kalyāṇamitta

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto

Kalyāṇamitta is the Buddhist concept of “admirable friendship” within community life, applicable to both monastic and householder relationships. One involved in such a relationship is known as a “good friend”, “virtuous friend”, “noble friend” or “admirable friend” (kalyāṇa-mitta, -mitra)

Kalyāṇamitta as a Practice

The direct practice of kalyāṇamitta begins with finding someone who models stability, empathy and clarity. A person who does more than say some well-meaning things, but also has the capacity to listen deeply without getting fazed or reactive. If you resonate with such a person, other qualities flow on: you meet, take in and feel the gist of what the speaker is saying. There is a non-attached engagement. Sometimes this is all that’s needed: to be able to speak, be heard and give deep attention to what occurred as one spoke. A kalyāṇamitta may or may not act as a teacher, but in any case, has the respect to not barge in with lectures and ‘what you need to do is …’ This is because a true kalyāṇamitta understands that the citta can only learn from its own deep attention; that the purpose of wise companionship is to help us to listen to ourselves with dispassion. Kalyāṇamitta is thus about encouraging the Dhamma that’s ‘knowable in oneself’ (paccataṃ) and not about giving lectures.[48]

The trust of another helps us to learn to trust our own capacities. It is an act of faith. Otherwise, becoming and conceit come up with the assumption that there’s something wrong with ‘me’, and I have to do something to make myself other than I am. This self-view can’t succeed. But clearing ignorance and imbalance “doesn’t happen through simply affirming that ‘there’s nothing wrong with me.’ That’s just another self-view. Moreover, conceiving based on fortunate states such as ‘I am a genius/enlightened’ keeps needing more of the affirmation, approval or adoration of others. That’s also imbalanced. Clearing these imbalances only comes through suspending the assumption ‘I am’ for a while, and giving deep attention to qualities and energies that cause or release stress. So, if you want to be a true Dhamma friend to another, encourage this – and model it.

As heart-energy settles, you can extend the quality of that trust and benevolent intent into all the tissues and structures of the body; then extend that into the space around you: ‘May all this be free from harm or stress.’ You can then more specifically extend that to impressions of other people, especially those who mean a lot to you, both good and bad: either friends, or people you have difficulties with. Through meeting the qualities that come up as you attend to self and others, you cultivate value; you appreciate, release and forgive.

The mind that looks out from that fullness of heart can also inquire into any conceit, any notion of ‘I am this’, ‘she is that’. Is the president that commanding entity that we like or dislike when he or she is asleep, or sick? How would we see them if they lost a child? Who is the comedian when they’re in deep stress about their mother’s dementia? How evil is the criminal who acted like that because they were abused by their parents, had little education and felt left behind by the mainstream of society? And, to bring the focus back home, when the mind/heart is conceiving people in critical or stereotyped ways, how deep is the attention?

If we’re brooding over the faults of others, the heart is constricted and it can’t access the energy that supports full awareness. If there is a negative conceit, our hearts narrow and close down. On the other hand, a conceiving that blindly adores other people reduces discernment and sets us up for wanting more contact with the one who will make life perfect. Then again, we may indeed wish to avoid relationship altogether – but that sets up another negative relational quality. After all, we do share the planet with seven billion (and rising) other humans, and there’s only so many dogs, mountain tops and computer games from which you can derive a comfortable relational experience before there are problems with the neighbours, with the weather and with your own mind. The good times alone won’t set you free. What is needed?

A Mutual Life

Any self-view needs some solid ground, some ideological viewpoint or fixed mood or context to stand on; it craves solidity in what changes. And what is the success rate of that search? Do you ever get five stars? Does anyone? Is there such a thing as a self that has become solid? And yet is any self contented with being an ever-changing flow of qualities? The only free space and open ground is in the heart that knows letting go.

What hinders access to that are fetters (saṃyojana) that form a self, where there are only changeable qualities. These fetters come in clusters, of which the first three – ‘personality (or ‘self’) view’ (sakkāya-diṭṭhi), ‘uncertainty’ (vicikiccā) and ‘fixation on systems and customs’ (sīlabbattapāramāsa) – bind the heart to personhood. And personhood is insecure. That is, our personality arises dependent on social interactions that are always subject to change, so we can never guarantee that we’ll arrive at a comfortable and approved-of state in the future. Hence uncertainty and anxiety arise – so, to make our lives predictably “steady, we grab hold of socially-approved systems and customs. The result of this tangle is stress – because all conditions change.

In terms of Dhamma practice, these fetters bring around clinging to the neat structure of one’s ideas rather than penetrating the nature of thought and concepts. This provides the individual with an intellectual standpoint, but far from releasing the mind, it limits the Dhamma to that person’s opinions. If, on the other hand, we disengage from trains of thought and attend to thinking as a process, we notice that ideas dazzle and stir the mind; they are attractive and they do give rise to a sense of certainty – but in themselves they come and go. They only provide certainty if they’re held onto – and that both generates conflict in those who have other ideas, and tightens energy in the head. In the grip of ideas, people can get dogmatic and generally obnoxious.

A deeper sense of confidence in the Dhamma arises through seeing things as they are; that they arise and pass into something wordless and open. Since that experience is peaceful, the restrictive and constructed nature of conceptual experience loses its attraction. Thus, there can be a letting go of fixed positions, and the arising of harmony and balance.

The search for a secure standpoint for the self is also the drive behind bonding to systems and customs. We get to know the ‘right way’ of doing things, and even of practising Dhamma, and the mind hangs onto it and looks down on others. The ‘right way’ is the way I see things; it’s the proper, fair and effective system or custom according to my conditioning – and there’s a self-view in that. This view doesn’t always stand out; it’s not as if we are mentally intoning ‘mine, me, this is my self.’ In fact, it’s often the opposite: as Buddhists, we think: ‘this is not “me” or “mine” – but things should be this way, this is right.’ This is because the way things should be, or seem to be, qualifies how I sense myself – as in touch with the truth or on the winning team. If I uphold that ‘right way’, then I gain value. I may even gain others’ respect by sacrificing my apparent self for the sake of the ideals that I have projected onto the group. But we can get attached to that self-denial view, and then feel affronted when others aren’t as heroic. ‘How come she’s so laid-back and finding it all so easy!’ ‘Why isn’t he practising as intensely as I am!’

For example, from time to time we have people in the monastery who are very diligent in the meditation hall … but difficult to work with in the kitchen because they have to have things done their way. That’s not right, is it? Yet generally their actions are based on what they find to be the most efficient way of operating in order to provide food for the community. So that sounds right. … Then maybe someone talks during times of silence … which is wrong! But they felt that someone needed some contact, or that some light-heartedness was good medicine. … Action based on compassion sounds like a wise point of view – right? Then someone wants to sit when it’s walking time, walk when it’s a sitting. … Maybe that’s what’s right for them. But we might feel: ‘We had an agreement to operate in a certain way to strengthen the group resolve and minimize disturbance, and people are expected to let go of their personal perspectives.’ That’s right too! ‘Right’ carries a very powerful energy, doesn’t it? You can get really convinced and really angry with ‘right’! But when that righteousness rushes in, notice the loss of groundedness, empathy and clarity. We swap relating to our fellow-humans for clinging to views.

Now I’m not saying that matters of behaviour aren’t to be addressed; that’s one of the values of spiritual friendship. But it’s the values of integrity and empathy that have to be steadily practised, not clinging to ‘law and order’. Nor is this about understanding others, or being understood by others: that also is an impossible wish. No one can view another’s kammically conditioned mind-set; it’s difficult enough to get some insight into one’s own. The correct approach is to replace these aspects of self-view with a mutual exploration of what arises in any situation or with any intention. This is right view: it rules out proliferating over a specific piece of behaviour and turning it into the view that ‘only this is right,’ or ‘she’s one of those, or ‘if I follow the rules I’ll be safe and no-one will find fault with me.’ Not so: the fault-finding mind will object to your smile, or to what you didn’t say, or to your non-smile. Believe me, it happens!

All of us like to have things go ‘my way’ because we know how to operate within those parameters. But that isn’t going to get us out of our habits and kammic programs. Sooner or later people and events won’t follow ‘my way’; so, the unawakened mind feels disoriented; then latent ill-will arises, to flavour the heart with blaming ourselves, others, the leader, the past – and so on. Therefore, we practise kalyāṇamitta and develop trust. Otherwise, we can’t get past our attachment to our position, or certainty, or being in control. The heart contracts and clamps down, and the end result is the proliferating program of ‘should be’, which leads to frustration, irritation – and views about self and other.

To be continued

the relational vortex

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto

‘Self and other’ is a divisive program, for sure. And it begins with birth. With the arising of consciousness (viññāṇa), our sense of being something is established on the sense of being within something: a womb, a family, a nation, a world-order and so on. This is how it happens: operating through the physical senses and the object-defining mind, ‘consciousness’ is ‘consciousness of’ – a sight, sound, touch, thought and so on. Consciousness therefore gives rise to contact. With contact, comes the experience of being contacted – heart-impressions occur. Thus, relational awareness, citta as ‘heart’, gets activated: the heart experiences feeling and felt sense, and wants to be safe, stable and comfortable. As the affect-and-response program of citta-saṇkhāra forms a subject that’s being affected by an object, it kindles a psychological craving to solidify into a subject who feels secure and comfortable. Then, as this craving for being something (bhava-taṇhā) is contextual, it orients around oneself and one’s body, oneself and one’s territory, oneself and one’s role or job – but above all, it orients around oneself and other people. We want to know who we and others are, and where we stand – not just to learn how to work together, but in order to establish a secure identity. From this relational vortex of ‘self and other’, there thus arises the notion of a personal self. Holding a body as a boundary, and being locked into programs that juggle with the variables of the social world, is self-view (sakkāya-diṭṭhi).

Becoming, Conceit and Proliferation

Craving to be or to become also extends into how secure I will be in the future, and into making notes on self-impressions from the past in order to determine ‘that’s who I am.’ This identity program begins as citta clings to my appearance and actions and “goes on to cling to what is felt, conceived and programmed. Then becoming gives rise to an identity, and ‘I am’ is born: ‘I am an ageing, middle-class man who can’t understand the internet.’ Or ‘I am a shy person when it comes to public gatherings.’ And as if that isn’t enough, the citta is also flooded by the urge to not be (vibhava-taṇhā) as in ‘I want to get out of this situation/mind-state/experience of being incompetent’; ‘let me not be seen.’ So, there can be tidal flows of ‘wanting to be’ and ‘wanting not to be’ as the urge to be accepted and liked by others builds up performance strategies and anxiety to become the winner, to the point where a person wants to be left alone or escape – through drink and drug if need be.

The heart is relational by nature and so the references and programs that get established through relationship are pivotal. If what we’re born into is giving us messages of welcome and trust, then our references and programs get formed on a foundation of basic confidence in being here. But if it’s the other way around … if we have been fed biases, exaggerations and falsehoods; if we’re told by our family or society that we’re worthless, a threat or an expendable burden – we become insecure and confused, and possibly violent. If we get the message that we have to be productive, intelligent and attractive – then even though we may personally acquire those qualities, we do so from the basis of anxiety, and hence still experience that ‘not good enough’ sense.

So, if our intrinsic worth isn’t valued, we have to seek value through achievement, know-how, physical appearance, rebellious independence and so on. In such cases, the relational basis is replaced by strong individuation – ‘do it and get it by yourself’ – with a weak feeling for sharing, empathy or integration with others. But how can a self be separate from others? Instead, the urge for a strong, successful and independent self is a condition for narcissism, arrogance and relational dysfunctionality. History is full of brilliant but neurotic geniuses, ego-centred powermongers, and psychopaths with formidable powers of mind.

It’s worse still if we can’t achieve value through our own individual efforts: we experience ourselves as worthless. And if the judge of self-worth is our own performance-driven psychology, there’s always a ‘better’ or ‘higher’ that we can imagine becoming. So, we never come out as winners. This loss of worth, or sense of being driven, can result in breakdowns, depression, substance abuse and even suicide. If, that is, the underlying relational quality is one of the desire to be a perfect self who gets their way, is never criticized and who feels understood.

Although such self-views are often the case in societies where there is considerable stress on individual achievement and little sense of innate belonging, not all societies operate this way. I remember reading an account of a game played by a tribe living in the Amazon basin. The British field-worker who was observing the game couldn’t understand the rules at first. He noticed that the players of the game would split into two teams, who were not necessarily equal in terms of numbers or apparent strength. Each team would grab a large log, and, hoisting it onto their shoulders, start running towards a point a hundred metres or so ahead. The logs also were not the same size or weight. As he watched, one team would draw ahead of the other, and as it did so, a member of the leading team would leave his or her team and join the other team. If a team was in the lead, members of that team would peel off and join the losing team. As the “finishing line drew into sight, the excitement would rise until the teams crossed the line, often with very little distance between them. Eventually the field-worker found out the aim of the race: it was to have both teams cross the line at the same time! That aim was carried out through attention and strenuous effort, but with an overriding benevolent intent to arrive at a place with no winners and no losers.[46]

Expanding our attention and intention to include others gives us plenty to work on. But bear in mind that relationship also includes how we relate to ourselves. One can avoid or suppress anxiety or self-criticism to a degree, but that gets more difficult to do when one meditates – if, that is, instead of jumping into a “meditation program, we open attention and listen in a receptive way. For many people, that open regard evokes uncertainty: ‘What should I do? How am I doing? What comes next?’ This is the uncertainty that also plays out in relationship with others: ‘Am I acceptable to him or her? What do they see me as?’ Then the thirst for becoming forms self and other based on anxiety.

This crystallization is what the Buddha called ‘conceit’ (māna), the process that weaves qualities that arise in one’s awareness into entities that apparently exist independently. Along with conceit come the comparisons and shifting hierarchies that form the view (diṭṭhi): ‘I’m this and the other is that.’ Or ‘I’m feeling this, but I should feel something else.’ And from that foundation of thirst, conceit and the view that ‘I’m this, but I should be that,’ the process called ‘proliferation’ (papañca) spins out narratives.[47]

The Good Friend

‘He gives what is beautiful,

hard to give,

does what is hard to do,

endures painful, ill-spoken words.

‘His secrets he tells you,

your secrets he keeps.

‘When misfortunes strike,

he doesn’t abandon you;

when you’re down & out,

doesn’t look down on you.

‘A person in whom these traits are found,

is a friend to be cultivated

by anyone wanting a friend.’

(A.7:36; Thanissaro, trans.)

Making and adopting views of self is a basis for mental kamma; and mental kamma, for good or bad, is no small matter. Moreover, for the unawakened heart, this mental kamma occurs by default; that is, the kamma of becoming and conceit takes its cues from the old kamma of the mental tendency that is dominant at the time. In the case of someone who grew up in a family or society that didn’t see value as being intrinsic to being human, but rather gave the message that what you are isn’t good enough – the tendency is to feel anxious and unwelcome. And that affects the way you configure yourself and others.

To give an example: somebody makes a remark and that stands out. We notice it and think: ‘That sounded hostile to me.’ Obviously, we are all programmed to be sensitive to threat; based on that program, a felt meaning of those words occurs that will shape our actions and reactions around that experience. (A similar process could of course occur over them not expressing the gratitude or the consideration that we expect: here the bias is our sensitivity around not being welcomed or respected.) In either case, if such impressions are not filtered by deep attention, the underlying bias is not revealed and checked: ‘True, there can be threat. But is this actually a threat, and what is threatened?’ ‘Does this really mean I am unwelcome?’

Bearing in mind the fact that a lot of actions are not accompanied by deliberate intention but by muddled impulses, a review is worthwhile. Otherwise, if there is inadequate attention to the qualities that are affecting the citta, the mind conceives self and other based on that felt meaning. Then it proliferates and magnifies the experience in line with the intensity of the initial impression. And we get overwhelmed with proliferating views – such as ‘deliberate’, ‘aimed at me’ and ‘he always’. A fatalist view can also get established: ‘I always have to put up with inconsiderate people.’

If we act and react psychologically, verbally or physically in accordance with these views, our minds stir up a sequence of thoughts and strategies that firm up the bias of those felt meanings. Eventually the process solidifies into a self-view: ‘I’m seen as stupid or weak’, ‘me, the despised, me the victim’, ‘him, that pushy, insensitive pig’. Old programs run out that define ourselves and others, and our attitudes and actions take shape around them. Thus, through unmediated engagement with a perception, an existing bias is confirmed, a self and other established, and the basis for dark kamma laid down.

We could see things another way. We could shrug off the incident and decide not to engage with our interpretation: the remark was just a remark. But more to the point is to put aside adjudicating over the situation, and instead look to clearing the proliferations. True enough, if we feel that others are being disrespectful or downright hostile – well, maybe they are! But can we refrain from the proliferations that stick in our heart and add more negative patterns? What is more accurate is not that ‘she’s always like this’ but that ‘this habitual experience (of mistrust, etc.) arises when she says that, or when I look at that expression on her face.’

Through attending deeply, you can notice that although proliferation floods the citta with details, it deprives you of full presence: steady bodily presence gets lost, as does your ability to respond carefully and mindfully. That loss is a mark of ignorance; it robs you of groundedness, empathy and clarity. What is needed then is mindfulness of the heart, with the patience to allow a compassionate response – to self and other as these arise in awareness.

To be continued

the kamma of relationship

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto

‘And how is it, bhikkhus, that by protecting oneself one protects others? By the pursuit, development, and cultivation [of the four establishments of mindfulness]. It is in such a way that by protecting oneself one protects others. …

‘And how is it, bhikkhus, that by protecting others one protects oneself? By patience, harmlessness, lovingkindness, and sympathy. It is in such a way that by protecting others one protects oneself.’

S.47:19 – ‘At Sedaka’

Even when meditating on your own seems fine, you may notice that social contact stirs you up. Opinions about others, concern, attraction, irritation: how to resolve all that? How do we establish guidelines to help form healthy relationships? Is skill in relating to others even necessary for liberation?

The Community of Value

Well, we exist due to relationship; we all needed several people to even get born, let alone to survive infancy and learn about being human. We model ourselves on other people, from whom we learn a language and any kind of moral behaviour. A life without good friends is narrow and bleak; and families, friendships and communities thrive or splinter dependent on how skilful the relationships are. Our lives as individuals are blessed by good people: we can’t see our own blind spots, so it takes wise and compassionate companions to point these out in a way that is supportive rather than judgemental. For this reason, the Buddha greatly valued spiritual friendship (kalyāṇamitta), and considered association with wise people to be one of the requirements for ‘stream-entry’, the first level of awakening. [43]

Given the variable nature of social relationships, the most reliable thing to belong to is a field of value such as this. To belong to the group no matter what it’s doing, or to follow a leader because they make promises is unwise: we enter a relationship of infantile dependence or of being dumbed down. Not only is such false association personally unreliable – given the power that comes with group belief and action – it can be a danger to humanity. We can all attest to the destructive ideologies that masses of people have adopted – often incited by promises of wealth, or by the power of a charismatic leader. So, we need to personally connect with a Way, a Dhamma, that is free from contaminations and offers clarity and integrity. When this freedom is accessed by anyone who cultivates that Way, the community of value arises as a collective that enriches and is for the welfare of all.

Kalyāṇamitta is therefore not just a matter of friendship; it’s about a shared commitment to values that don’t harm or exploit others. It grows through cultivating relationships that steadily bring integrity, compassion and inquiry into a living focus. Such aspiration, effort and benefit from the spiritual communion that has involved millions of people throughout history. This living and ongoing legacy of skilful actions, aspiration and understanding is a ‘field of value’ (puññākhettaṃ) that can keep extending its boundaries. To belong to such a community entails steady practice. It means that rather than compete, compare and focus on each other’s personal idiosyncrasies, we attune to the bright kamma in ourselves and others, and develop through acting and interacting in its light. To see and respect the good in ourselves and to be keen to live that out – this is conscience (hiri); then to see and respect the good in others, and to be keen to live in accordance with that – this is concern (ottappa).

Conscience and concern are called ‘the guardians of the world’ – and as long as we listen to their advice, our personal world is aligned to the integrity and empathy that support awakening.

We can lose touch with that integrity and empathy if we neglect valuing our own actions and those of others. This devaluing occurs when we see each other, not as fellow subjects, but as objects compounded of wishful fantasy or anxiety. This seeing of another through one’s own tinted lens is the ‘self and other’ program. In this, we might expect other people to embody our ideals – and consequently get critical when they don’t live up to them. We might also project our fears onto others; or imagine that everyone else is enlightened or near it, and we are the laggards of the group. Or that people expect us to be something we’re not. All of these are negative mental kamma: the mind has adopted a view that divides ‘us’ into ‘self and other’ rather than directly relating to another with respect, appreciation and compassion: just as we would like to be related to.

Of course, it’s not that all aspects of anyone’s behaviour are flawless, or that we ourselves always see things from an undistorted perspective – but how else can good qualities arise if we don’t acknowledge our potential for them? It’s not as if we can make goodness appear where there isn’t a basis. So, the field of value offers the common ground in any misunderstanding. That common ground is remembered and brought into play whenever we touch into the qualities of integrity and empathy in ourselves, and ask another to do the same. Then there can be a dispassionate expression of how we see things, and a similar listening.[44]

 Mutual respect and equanimity can show us where we’re mistaken, or where ignorance has taken over the heart – and at the same time present trust and friendship.

So, when there is deep attention in the relational experience, the heart also finds access to the inspiration and compassion that give it strength. We all have a measure of good-heartedness, and as we tune in to that capacity in ourselves and others, it grows. Then we can enjoy the nourishment of kindness, or the protective care of compassion, or the joy of appreciation, and the equanimity to hold the space that allows emotions to arise and pass. These measureless qualities soften and even eradicate notions about self and others; they are even called ‘doors to the Deathless’.[45]

To be continued

knowledge and action

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto

[Note: This part of the text is the conclusion of the section on latent tendencies, leading to disturbing states of mind, and their release through guided meditation.]

There are dependently-arisen states that lead to suffering, solidification of world and self; and there are dependently-arisen states that lead to release. The former depend on ignorance; the latter arise in accord with Dhamma (dhammatā). [42] Dependent on factors of awakening, the biases are removed from the mind that gave rise to a sense of inadequacy, feeling hard done by, frustration, worry, uncertainty about what one is or should be, and the planning that is supposed to make one’s world comfortable. And so on. With the fruition of Dhamma, one’s world doesn’t arise: there is an end to that kamma.

But to integrate that relinquishment of self-view in terms of action, the ongoing path of our lives is to maintain the spiritual values that benefit the shared domain. As you clear the layers of assumptions about life in the world – that it should always feel good, make sense and provide you with fulfilment – you place your trust in good heart and association with good people as being the foundation for engaged life. To see and bring forth the good in others, you cultivate good heart; to cultivate good heart, you associate with good people. We acknowledge the parents who kept us alive and psychologically intact for years; we acknowledge the great gift of receiving teachings, and of having a teacher. And without having taken precepts, having committed to a convention and a practice, would the crucible for liberation have been set up? Without training the mind in meditation, would the chemistry that transmutes kamma into liberation have taken place?

What arises from such inquiry is the wish to serve; to follow what calls forth good heart. To have regard for the world and for healing its suffering: this is compassion. To regard it steadily: this is dispassion. Regarding the world takes a bright, still mind.

Meditation: Meeting Your World

Establish a supportive bodily presence: a sense of uprightness, with 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 the time that you need to settle in. As you settle, let your eyes gently close. Attune to the bodily sense in any way that encourages stability and ease.

If you feel unsettled – by thoughts, stirred-up moods or sagging energy – 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 sunk or flat.  As you come to a sense of balance, bring to mind a current situation in your life. It may well be the case that if you ask yourself: ‘What’s important for me now?’ or ‘What am I dealing with now?’ a meaningful scenario will come to mind. It could be about something at work, or to do with your close friends or family, or your well-being or your future. Just get the overall impression of that, without going into the full story. It could trigger a flurry of expected possibilities, or a heavy sense of having no choice; it could be the ‘so much to do…’ or the ‘I really need this…,’ or ‘he she/they think this about me and it’s not true.’ Try to catch and distil the emotive sense: burdened, eager, agitated – or whatever. As it becomes distinct, feel the energy, the movement of that (even if you can’t quite put it into words). For example, is it a racing sense, a buoyant one, or giddy, or locked? Keep triggering that sense by bringing the scenario to mind until you feel you have the tone of that.

Then contemplate that sense in terms of the body. Notice whether, for example, you feel a flush in your face or around your heart, or a tightening in your abdomen, or a subtle tension in your hands or jaw or around your eyes. If the topic is very evocative, you may feel a flurry and then be filled with such a flood of thoughts and emotions that you lose awareness of your body.

If so, open your eyes, breathe out and in slowly and wait for things to become steady again. Then as you re-connect to, or sustain, your embodied awareness, sense that emotive affect again … which area of the body is affected? And as you focus on the bodily effect, what mood does that bring up? Is it positive, something that there is an eagerness for, so that the body sense seems to rise up and open? Or is it negative, accompanied by a sinking or tightening in the body? Whatever it is, create an attentive space around the experience: can you be with this for a little while?

Let the awareness of, the ‘being with’, fully feel the tone of that experience. It may settle into an image – such as a bright stream, or something dark and heavy, or something twisted and stuck. Ask yourself: ‘What does this look (or feel) like, right now?’ Then, as you settle with it for a few seconds, bring up the question: ‘What does this need?’, or ‘What does this want to do?’ Follow with attention anything that happens to that sense of reaching out, or sinking back, or tension. There may have been an emotional shift – of relief or compassion. Perhaps parts of your body were affected: say you experienced a tightness in the abdomen and when you attended to your topic, lines of energy were experienced in your chest. Be with the enlarged experience, noticing any changes in the emotive sense. When things feel freer, ask yourself, with curiosity: ‘What is this response?’ Does something now seem obvious to you?

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. You may sense a letting go, or a firming up of your intentions.

Return through the body: to the central structure and the softer 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.

To be continued

factors of awakening: release

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto

Note: this section of the book places ‘Release’ in the context of the Seven Factors for Awakening. For readers unfamiliar with this subject, click on the link below.

https://www.spiritrock.org/practice-guides/the-seven-factors-of-awakening

What is often most disturbing about latent tendencies, particularly when they rise up as ‘outflows’ (āsavā), is that they appear as out-of-control states where we become other than who we think we are.

 These outflows can flood the heart with infantile rage, or create a self who is a victim of fear. This is because these tendencies are rooted at a reflex level, a psychological ‘place’ that precedes our personality. Even a baby has these.

It’s also the case that we’re not always clear about what tendencies remain latent and unresolved. Most obviously, ignorance, the loss of stable awareness, is a fundamental tendency that, by definition, we’re not clear about. So, we might feel quite balanced and at ease … but then, over an exchange as to who does what in the kitchen, experience a threat to our territory, or a loss of status – and up springs ill-will, self-view, a search for the ‘right’ way, the ‘fair’ system … and so on. The lesson is that unless we give up the ‘naming’ out of which all states arise, the latent tendencies to doubt, to views, to becoming and to identification remain unresolved.

What’s needed then is to penetrate the ‘naming’ process and what it’s based on. This comes down to maintaining mindfulness and investigation around the arising and passing of feeling, perception and intention. Conducted with ongoing persistence, this mindful inquiry leads into other factors of awakening – rapture, tranquillity, concentration and equanimity. These all feel agreeable, and they do a good job: they can resist clinging and clear ignorance.

As these factors are developed, you can see how mental feeling, perception and programs in particular rise up and condition each other. This is all cause and effect, kamma, and not a self. And even if craving remains hidden as a justifiable need or casual interest, when these factors of awakening have been cultivated, the activity of clinging stands out. Because when you have a reference to tranquillity, spaciousness and inner silence, you can know clinging by how it feels – as a certain tightening in the body/mind. You also recognize the voices – the self-interest, righteousness, or sneakiness – through which it speaks.

Through contemplating any of these signs, you understand that clinging isn’t owned: ‘I’ arises as a result of the action of clinging, rather than before it. I don’t decide: ‘I’ll cling today, and see how much suffering I can create for myself.’ So it’s not the case that ‘I have a lot of attachments, and cling a lot’; it’s just that the origin of clinging has not been seen. Clinging is an action, not a person. Understanding this encourages us to find out how to stop that grasping reflex.

The factors of rapture and tranquillity are important in relaxing that grasp. They help to ease up one of the thirsty issues of self: can I feel good? But there’s more to them than a little ease: the way they occur in meditation also relaxes the self as do-er. You don’t do rapture and tranquillity; they come to you, when the mind is settled in its meditation theme. The experience is rather like being a boat that’s beached in the sand: as the tide comes in, first there’s the gentle touch of something uplifting; then as this gradually increases, the boat floats. But it’s not capsized. So, we can let go of ‘self as do-er’, without having to be ‘self as impervious’ or ‘self as collapse.’ And then: what does that feel like? How is that quality of openness furthered? Tranquillity gives you the ease and sensitivity, and there’s the need to develop that so that the psychologies based on ‘me trying’ give up. The required action is psychological: to stay with and trust this meditative process. As mental and somatic tensions relax, the factor of samādhi arises with the unification of bodily and mental energies. With that steady sensitivity, that old kamma of defending and struggling can be released.

This release is as much at an energetic as a psychological or emotional level. The causal field is a web of energies that can form blockages and numbness or exert pressure – even cause headaches. These energies are embodied at an involuntary level where we’re ‘not ourselves.’ In other words, release is not only dependent on attitude or understanding; it also depends on switching off the momentum of habitual programs. Release takes factors that are not about me trying or me doing it; it entails going into the reflex for craving, clinging and becoming in our wiring, and letting go right there. To sustain that letting go, “we need the cumulative effect of all the factors of awakening, and not just some mindfulness or understanding.

The power that samādhi instils in awareness holds calm and ease at this reflex level; then it allows awareness to see how things are (yathābhūtaṃ ñānadassanaṃ). What is seen is that becoming and self are unfulfilling programs; in knowing this, the mind stops following them. There is the stillness of equanimity, the final factor of awakening, and release from self-construction: relinquishment (vossagga). Awareness is the stillness. This is the place of giving up – where nothing need be said or done.

So it’s not just a clinging to sense-input or systems or views that needs to be dissolved. It’s a matter of dissolving the basis of ignorance and thirst: that ‘naming’ basis of mind.[41] This is how one’s world ends.

To be continued

four bases of clinging

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‘Selected excepts from Kamma and the End of Kamma’ by Ajahn Sucitto

This world, Kaccāna, for the most part depends upon a duality – upon the notion of existence and the notion of nonexistence. But for one who sees the origin of the world as it really is with correct wisdom, there is no notion of nonexistence in regard to the world. And for one who sees the cessation of the world as it really is with correct wisdom, there is no notion of existence in regard to the world.

‘“All exists”: Kaccāna, this is one extreme. “All does not exist”: this is the second extreme. Without veering towards either of these extremes, the Tathagata teaches the Dhamma by the middle: With ignorance as condition, volitional formations [saṇkhārā] come to be; with volitional formations as a condition, “consciousness. … Such is the origin of this whole mass of suffering. But with the remainderless fading away and cessation of ignorance comes cessation of volitional formations; with the cessation of volitional formations, cessation of consciousness. … Such is the cessation of this whole mass of suffering.”’

(S.12:15; B. Bodhi, Trans.)

……………………………………..

One thing led to another, and after three years of practising in solitude, I returned to England for a visit. I stopped off in London, where Ajahn Sumedho was leading a small group of monks. In that community, there was more emphasis on action and interaction, “on a detailed training in terms of ethics and frugality, and on mindfulness with regard to using requisites. There was a lot of that kind of attention given to daily life; no competition, and no achievement. It demanded energy: all-night group meditation was a weekly practice, with its too brief highs and too long lows. ‘Patient resolve’ was the watchword. All this broadened equanimity and deepened awareness. And we were all in it together, so that generated friendship – even when people got stirred up and argumentative at times. That was understood and accepted, and we were encouraged to explore the cause of conflict and stress. The overall theme was to be mindful of whatever the mind brought up and investigate where the suffering was. It made life into a practice of pāramī; I made a resolution to stay with it – even though that meant getting stirred up pretty often. It was easy to see and feel where the challenge lay: clinging to my way and wishes. Holding on goes deep.

…………………………………..

The Buddha spoke of clinging as having four successively deeper levels: 1) clinging to sense objects, 2) to rules and customs, 3) to views, and 4) to impressions of what we are.

The first is fairly obvious – it’s about hanging on to possessions, and feeding on sights, sounds and the rest of it. In the monastery, with the limitation on sense-input, and with a good amount of physical work going on, most of this intensity would gather around the one meal of the day, or the hot drink and occasional sweets at tea-time. The very energy of clinging to the felt meaning of getting fed would sometimes send so much energy through the system that to patiently wait for everyone to gather, patiently file through to receive the food, patiently wait for everyone to get back … then, after chanting the meal-time blessings, to patiently wait for the senior person to begin eating – was quite an achievement! The food itself was nothing special – sometimes I hardly noticed what it was. Moreover, the degree of satisfaction derived from eating was nothing fantastic and was offset by feeling dull afterwards. The passion was all around the idea, the felt meaning, of eating. But that impression of gratification, and the appealing nature of the food could shift within minutes. On contemplating the whole issue, it was apparent that the intensity was just around the set of feelings and drives that clinging made solid and real – for a while. Clinging was just clinging to its own interpretations.

I could experience the same clinging occurring in terms of the second level of clinging – with reference to the rules and customs of the monastery. Everyone uses rules and customs to regulate their lives or occupations: forms of etiquette, customs around what food to eat at what time on what day of the week, or around how I like my office to be arranged, as well as religious observances and social taboos. But there’s a tendency to go into automatic, or to get dogmatic about one’s own system. One feeling I had about committing to Buddhist practice was to get out of this – to be more spontaneous, to live in the here and now. But after about three years with nothing to do, nothing to belong to, and therefore nothing to be spontaneous about, I really appreciated things like morning chanting every day, observances around handling and washing your alms-bowl, and a training in conventions that helped to keep me focused in daily life in a way that wasn’t about me achieving or being rewarded. The training just kept placing awareness ‘here’ in what I was doing.

It was the same with the system of meditation that I was using; even if I wasn’t always good at it, it defined where I was. I got to feel solid. But then there’d be a hunger to get even more solid; to be part of a highly-disciplined outfit and be someone who could sit like a rock with unwavering mindfulness of breathing. So, the snag that I hit was that a subtle condescension crept in for people who weren’t so solid, or couldn’t keep up; and an outright dismissal of those ‘here and now’ types who were sloppy and clearly had no sense for resolution.

However, Ajahn Sumedho, the leader of what was supposed to be the crack troop, did from time to time cancel routines, either if he thought people were struggling, or just for a break. Or maybe it was just for us to see what our minds did. He also lessened the intensity of some of the observances, allowing an early-morning mug of porridge because some people weren’t so well … And as for a system of meditation, although he sat in meditation a lot, he didn’t use much more of a technique than a basic focus on breathing for starters. The main theme was one of letting go.

It was a complete turn-around from how I had been practising, so it was very confusing for a few years, but it was to the point, and very direct. Let go of clinging. Yes, you do get to recognize that taking hold of a system, firming up and getting righteous about it, carries the same feel and passion that you can get around a bar of chocolate. It’s clinging … and it means you’re about to suffer. And probably to inflict some suffering on someone else.

Much the same thing occurs with the next layer of clinging to views, typified as views of ‘becoming and not-becoming’. These are the ways we extend out of direct experience to conjure up a future. That is, we either add continuity, purpose and a trajectory in life, or deny that there is any purpose; we either get involved with action or development, or declare that nothing can really be done – that everything’s impermanent so there’s no point. This is the underlying view of ‘becoming/not-becoming’ (bhava-vibhava) that makes us unable to relate to the ongoing and uncertain nature of conditions. Those views solidify and spin, sometimes with great conviction. They carry the passion and thirst that initiate kamma, so you don’t get out of cause and effect by following their signals.[38] The harder you work at getting things finished and solid, the more that craving for becoming sets up new goals. But saying that there’s no goal, that it’s all an illusion and let’s not bother with the future – also has its negative effects. Failure to consider cause and effect has definitely affected and continues to affect our environment. Results inevitably proceed from action. So, the more immediate goal is to find balance; and act from there.

Our attempts at getting enlightened can follow the becoming/not-becoming bias. Is it about having the Ultimate Experience of Deathlessness; or is it about the Final Cessation of Nibbāna? Either way, the clinging to these ideas comes from views that configure either some Timeless Ground of Being or a Blissful Oblivion as the goal. And these depend on whether the self-view inclines towards becoming or towards not-becoming. We probably switch from one to the other “dependent on whether we’re feeling upbeat or fed-up, or just as our energies fluctuate. Of course, it doesn’t make sense because the underlying bias varies: one moment we want an experience, and the next we want to get away from experiencing anything. A good question to ask dispassionately is: ‘Who’s doing that?’  and that takes us to the fourth layer of clinging – clinging to self. Clinging to the tendency of becoming or not-becoming generates the self who will be, or who will be eliminated. But any idea of self arises within awareness. And it changes all the time, such as from confident and relaxed to anxious and tense. Notice the itch and the thirst to be successful – or even a failure – a s long as you’re being something. “As this urge affects the mind with regard to any form, any thought and any scenario, so feelings and impressions get clung to and become solidified into a self who is the agent or victim of the world. And that world, whether it be a sublime, immaterial ‘Ultimate Reality’, or the ‘authentic, pure Buddhist tradition’, or the benighted and unjust world of geopolitics, is then regarded as a foundation for a view and inclination with regard to the world it’s created. Essentially, ‘self’ and ‘world’ arise interdependently as two ends of the same designation process; my self is embedded in my world. With this, skills and advantages get tainted with conceit and the urge for more, and negative conditions arouse despond or irritation. There’s plenty of room for suffering, and no end to the goings-on that occur around identification.  So, the four bases give us windows through which to contemplate clinging. In themselves, material food and the rest of it are useful. Rules and customs are useful guides, and in order to do anything well, you have to have a point of view and take into account your own energies, inclinations and skills. But there is also a need to witness and contain the passion and clinging around all this. This is the purpose of cultivating pāramī: to check, witness and move through the mind’s assumptions and resistances. Then, if you stay focused at the place where the mind lets go, there is a sense of ease and spaciousness. You get a glimpse of non – clinging.

However, you don’t resolve and clear these programs with pāramī alone. Cultivating pāramī develops one’s intent to the point where one can have a choice over whether to act upon them or not; but the tendencies remain as potentials in the mind, ready to engender more problems. To clear the tendencies of ignorance and becoming takes the factors of awakening (bojjhanga.)

To be continued

latent tendencies

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Selected excerpts from Kamma and the End of Kamma by Ajahn Sucitto

Taken as a whole, the practice of pāramī sets up values that skilfully direct the mind. Attitudes and energies that go towards self-aggrandizement, manipulation or distraction are cut off. And, as intention gets free of those biases, we notice different things – because what we look for affects what we look at. With worldly conditioning, the mind is focused on material gain, status and superficial appearances. That always brings the need for more, and the fear of losing what’s been gained: i.e. stress. But if we look at life in terms of what we can give, rather than gain; if we incline towards valuing patience and resolution rather than quick, short-term results; and if we prioritize our integrity rather than speculate as to whether we are admired or ignored – we notice bright or dark kamma. And we notice how stress arises and how it ceases. Our ‘naming’ of the world shifts to designate it as a vehicle for value and liberation, rather than a me/them, gain/loss ride on a roller coaster.

However, as you hold to the values of a skilful life, that purifying process reveals dispositions and tendencies that are latent and unresolved. These latent tendencies (anusaya) include basic inclinations such as sensual passion, irritation, opinionatedness and conceit – which may not be revealed as such in ordinary life because our ways of operating avoid a thorough investigation of our inclinations. This is why we resolve not to follow the casual slide into worldly values. Instead, we make commitments to acts of value and integrity.

In this respect, Buddhist practice isn’t about peak moments. It’s about training. It’s about strengthening and broadening commitment to standards and virtues, even when the peak experiences aren’t rolling in and your unacknowledged tendencies are rising up. In fact, the ordinary situation of living with others is a great opportunity for developing pāramī. Through aware interaction, we get to see that our ‘naming’ – our interpretations of what is normal or friendly, our attitudes around leadership and independence, our sensitivity to other people – differs from other people’s ‘naming’ in the same situation. Responding to this takes a lot of patience, goodwill and commitment in order to clear biases. That gives life a transcendent purpose: it’s about freeing the mind from narrow-mindedness, concerns over status, and fault-finding – to name a few aspects of ‘self-view’.

I’ve grown to appreciate this integrated approach, especially as I didn’t start my practice from this perspective. In the monastery in Thailand in which I began my training as a Buddhist monk, there was a section set aside for intensive meditation practice. Monks in the monastery would go into this section in order to review and deepen their understanding of Dhamma. They’d generally spend a couple of weeks in there and then return to what they were part of. I was one of the few Westerners; the three or four of us there were all new to Thailand, meditation and monastic life. We had nothing to do, no get-togethers, nowhere to go and no way of returning to what we were part of. Conversation wasn’t allowed. It was, as you might guess, pretty stressful being in a small hut all day trying to meditate and watching the mind jump over the monastery wall for hours at a time. The one thing that we did do together was go out on alms-round, in silence, every morning. It was our only occasion of being together in the entire day; it should have been easy, just walking along receiving offerings. But instead, all kinds of stuff, stuff that wasn’t on the enlightenment script, came up.

The first person in my life who said he’d like to kill me, with an axe, if possible, was a fellow-monk. Well, I did walk on alms-round at a pace that he felt was too slow, while he had to walk behind me … As for myself, I can’t recall having much of a violent impulse until I became a serious meditating monk … but now here I was feeling violent towards a monk (another one) walking behind me! After all, the Buddha said we should walk quietly, making little noise, so that we could be calm and focused in order to get enlightened – but every day that monk behind me kept on clearing his throat as we walked along … That’s justification for murder, isn’t it?

Naturally, we didn’t act on these impulses; we let them pass. Which was a little bit of awakening. There was enough bright kamma to have a sense of morality, and even of mindfulness. However, they blew apart the idea that you don’t have ill-will just because in solitude no-one’s pushing your buttons. So, in terms of the big picture, a murderous impulse was useful: I had to let go of my idea of being a reasonable, easy-going person, and focus on the tendency of ill-will. And further, when I acknowledged that my solitary practice hadn’t made it any easier to share the planet for a couple of hours with another harmless human being who shared my interest in awakening, the paradigm of mind-cultivation had to shift. I began to understand that you don’t get out of kamma by avoiding it.

To be continued

stable ground: the pāramī

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto.

Many of the Buddha’s teachings are based on generating bright kamma in daily life. He taught the Eightfold Path to establish purity of intent. If you work with this with regard to people, duties and events, you can live with self-respect, gladness and equanimity. You don’t get caught up in the judgements of success/failure, praise/blame; instead, you establish your Path, linger in and savour the good, and work with what arises.

However, we often do get caught up in the judgements of success/failure and one’s assessment gets internalized so then craving is driving the mind: ‘How long is it going to take me to achieve my goals?’ That’s the world arising, right there; it’s a race that can never be won, because the thirst to achieve creates the goal and the self who hasn’t achieved it. You climb one mountain, then you need to climb a higher or more risky one. What’s driving you? This process will always create stress. Stress can end, however, in accordance with the degree with which one can relinquish that thirst, that goal-orientation, that self. This is what is meant by purifying the intent. It means letting go of the search for fulfilment in terms of ‘world’.

Does this mean that there’s nothing to seek? Not really. Maintaining balance does take some doing; and for the citta to find any balanced ground there has to be motivation (chanda) towards purity, integrity and harmony. And this does give a reward in terms of one’s innate value or puñña, with the stability and good heart that this brings. Accordingly, the persistent cultivation of bright kamma is encouraged. In Buddhist cultures, a useful list of daily life trainings is that of the ten ‘perfections’ (pāramī or pāramitā).[36]

 Pāramī are also referred to as ‘qualities that cross over [the world]’ because by practising them in the everyday world, the mind brings forth bright qualities rather than seeking worldly gain. Avoiding the spin of gain and loss, these pāramī give you stable ground.

In the Theravada tradition, the pāramī are listed as generosity, morality, renunciation, wisdom/discernment, persistence, patience, truthfulness, kindness, resolution and equanimity. All these ask us to bring forth skill in response to what we experience; it’s a response which has liberation as its aim. It’s good to remember that liberation is not some ‘out there’ state; it just means the Path and Fruit of letting go of any degree of greed “aversion and delusion – and of the basis on which they arise. Through the practice of pāramī, we cultivate action that places qualities, rather than self-image, as the guides on the Path. It’s pretty fundamental; without that view, and without sustaining that aim and resolve, you don’t have a reliable foundation from which to meet life.

Generosity is about sharing – and not just in material terms. It’s an attitude to life; it’s a response to the interrelatedness that is the basis of all life. Most importantly, you share Dhamma by advice, and by example. Aiming one’s concern and goodwill for the welfare of others as much as for oneself helps to shift the ‘self-view’ to one in line with co-dependent arising. Action based on that view of interdependence generates a shared blessing. The giver feels joy and the receiver feels the effects of kindness: everyone gains.

Morality leads to self-respect and the trust of people around you. Renunciation draws you out of the grip of the materialist energies that control much of society. Discernment cuts through the blur of feelings to tell you coolly and clearly what qualities are skilful and what aren’t at this moment. Such discernment is required to steward and moderate energy so that it isn’t frittered away on the one hand, or strained on the other. The result is right persistence. And that brings around patience – to not rush, to allow things to move at a harmonious rate, and to bear with the tangle of social and personal conundrums that we face. Patience is great for wilful ‘got to get it done’ mind-sets. There’s a whole life of cultivation in this pāramī alone.

These pāramī are not always on display in the world; nor does their cultivation mean that you become a success in worldly terms. Take truthfulness: it may seem unlikely that you will become the leader of a political party or of a global corporation through such kamma. But maybe. A friend of mine in business told me that, years ago, he vowed to only deal honestly with clients – no false promises, no granting of favours, no illegal dodges. At first his business declined a little, but after a while, as people realized that they could trust that what he said was what he meant, they began to prefer that straight way of dealing and his business increased. Ethical business can make sense. At any rate, you always gain in terms of having self-respect, a clear conscience and friends that you can rely upon. Furthermore, goodwill and resolution will get you through the tough times. When the economy crashes or your health fails, when you’re bereaved or blamed, knowing how to live simply and be an equanimous witness to experience are real life-savers. “Taken as a whole, the practice of pāramī sets up values that skilfully direct the mind. Attitudes and energies that go towards self-aggrandizement, manipulation or distraction are cut off. And, as intention gets free of those biases, we notice different things – because what we look for affects what we look at.

To be continued

Editorial Note: Hello readers. Some of you will be wondering what’s been going on at this end, what with all these infrequent postings since end of October last year. So, looking at the most recent event, I’m putting together this piece of writing using the microphone rather than the keyboard (voice enabled text) … my voice in an empty room with words appearing on the screen – too fast. I need to find the right way to make a beginning…

Start here: Sunday February 2, I tripped, fell and landed on my hip while visiting one of the oldest temples in Bangkok, Wat Po. It was the week of Chinese New Year and crowds everywhere. I was taken through heavy traffic, mostly huge tour group buses to Vichayut hospital.

The worst pain wasn’t the fall itself, my friend Tristan got me up and helped with the agonized steps to where there was a cab. It was quickly decided to take a cab to the hospital rather than wait for an ambulance to find its way through all the narrow streets and people everywhere. When we arrived at the hospital, it was not in the emergency reception point and there were no medical professionals to get me on a stretcher, I had to kind of slide down from a raised seat in the cab and unknowingly landed on the injured leg.

The pain was the most immense I’d ever experienced; I was like a large trapped animal howling, suddenly and at high volume. In the mind’s eye the overruling thought was of punishment, something from childhood and I burst into tears. There were other times when the injured leg was pushed and the involuntary howl would be released again. They finally got me on to a wheeled stretcher and I was speeding along through wide polished corridors to the examination room then to the Xray department. Later the orthopaedic surgeon showed me a picture on his phone of the Xray image showing a long fracture in the upper femur.

The only way to go was Total Hip Replacement, no real alternative. So, sign the relevant forms, intravenous tubes inserted, received morphine and drifted off on a sea of fluffy green clouds.

Woke up next day afternoon in a hospital bed after they took me out of ICU and Jiab was there, told me it was done. Lying on my back thinking my body was not my own anymore, there’s a piece of platinum in my bone structure that’ll set off the alarm in Xray machines at the airport so I have to tell them before I pass through. At the time it felt like the whole of my right side was stiff and unresponsive. It wasn’t ‘my’ body now, in a sense the upper leg had been recreated by the surgeons and the team. Gratitude, for these karmic blessings and a good insurance that gets it all to spring into action.

But there was also a feeling I was a prisoner, held like this for hours and days and weeks lying immobile with all the pads and the tubes inserted; forced to sleep on my back. I never feel comfortable falling asleep while lying on my back, I usually turn foetus-like on my left and still the inclination is to turn on my side… but that’s a big no-no; instant pain. So that’s how it’s been for the last 6 weeks, sleeping like that but I got used to it. Many times, I thought so this is how it is, I can lie on my back and investigate the state of the body and the location of the pain and try to find some ease in there – it was all about stressed muscles and connecting nerves…. is there some ease to be found anywhere here? Or just riding with it, and see where that gets me. Then there are times when I arrive at a pain-free plateau and all my senses fall into a relaxed state. The tendency then is to let go and fall asleep but sometimes I remain there but it’s not an ‘I’ that remains, it’s just how it is. Without a sense of self, it’s not ‘my’ pain. The agony and the ache are rolling and tumbling across the landscape when I’m asleep, physical feelings are changing all the time. No ongoing happy or distressed state it’s just drifting along with variations between the two.

Now, I’m okay but unaided walking is more of a stumble than a walk so I still depend on the walker-frame which the physio-therapist says will become obsolete as I complete the remaining weeks of exercises. He says my walking gait will return to how it was before the event; the collision with gravity in Wat Po. Yes, the physio-therapist was a nice man although the exercises he put me through were agony and I’d have a sleepless night on the day of his visit, then the next day there’d be less of an ache. The day after he’d be back again – sessions 3 days a week for 4 weeks.

He had a sense of humour and I learned so much from him. Soon, I began to see an improvement; the muscles that were completely stuck before,began to move.

People would ask me if I’m on painkillers? What use are pain killers when there’s a man in a white coat fixing a 1 kilo cuff weight on my ankle with Velcro straps and insisting there’s a purpose behind all the pain so I have to stretch out my leg and lift the foot 10 times. He insists it’s a worthwhile and an honourable effort to get everything started again. Whatever… the thing is I slowly began to see an improvement; the muscles that were completely stuck were sending out the pain and he’d ask me where exactly this pain was and he could identify which is which and he’d do some massage with his fingers and get me to do an exercise for that particular muscle and that’s how I got to know where they were and to move each one.

I have to end now, there was an earthquake here: Friday 28 March 2025. The house wobbled maybe twice but no damage or harm. There’s so much more to say about the event and maybe I’ll return to this if I can cope with the microphone, voice enabled text function and the on-going editing process. That’s it, I hope all is well where you are, stay well. Best wishes

Tiramit

the process of clearing the past

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Excerpts from Kamma and the end of Kamma by Ajahn Sucitto

With regard to what we can do to clear our inner world, the process of clearing the past as outlined by the Buddha is twofold: first, to acknowledge the results of action, and to determine not to act in such ways again; and secondly, to spread inclinations of goodwill through the whole system and towards anyone else connected to the action.[27]

What needs to be cleared occurs on three levels: there are active programs – actions we keep doing; there are involuntary tendencies – patterns that lie dormant but come to the surface under stress, or as the mind unfolds in meditation; and finally there’s the self-view – the aspect of self-construction that refers to how we habitually regard ourselves. In all cases, the method entails accessing the patterns and programs in the mind, and revealing their tracks with deep attention. And then being mindful of and fully sensing how these conditions manifest. Then we need to meet them skilfully so that a response arises from the intelligence that begins to return through not following the old track.

In brief, we establish and firm up a reference to a healthy pattern, and then expand awareness so that that bright quality receives, meets and smoothes out residues of fear, rage, self-hatred, grief – or whatever the citta hasn’t been able to discharge. This may sound like a lot, but because many impulses and programs move along a few basic tracks, clearing the past is not a matter of focusing on every wild pig that’s charged through the heart – it’s more a case of straightening, uprooting, or leaving its tracks.

At the most obvious level, that of acknowledging actions and of changing how you’re going to act in the future, you own up to any unskilful deed you feel you’ve done, and with deep attention, discern the underlying pattern. (Remember, it’s a pattern, not a self.) Widen attention so that the citta can step back from that pattern. At the same time, stabilize the mind in the energetic feel of resolve, so that awareness is strengthened – then a resolution that’s made will stick. In this way, you block off access and nourishment for that bad habit, and its track begins to fade.

Following on from that, the general theme of practice is to spread kindness (mettā), compassion (karuṇā), appreciative joy (muditā), and equanimity (upekkhā) into the citta’s field. Collectively, they’re called ‘the measureless’ (appamāno) or a ‘celestial abiding’ (brahmavihāra). In more down-to-earth terms, accessing them means touching into the felt sense and tone of these empathetic qualities, then lingering in and strengthening the citta with them. When the heart feels full, it’s natural and easy to steadily extend its awareness towards beings you feel you may have affected – and towards your own heart if it has become infected in some way or another.

So: you recollect an unskilful deed you’ve done towards another, considering how you would feel if you were them – or towards the person you may have been at that time. And when you remember being the object of others’ abuse or lack of empathy, you do much the same. You take the impression of who you feel you’ve been, and who you feel the other has been, and suffuse the entirety with goodwill; or at least with non-aversion.

The practice covers both ourselves and others, because in the heart, ‘self and other’ are just forms that arise from saññā-saṇkhāra. They are also interdependent. That is, our personalities are established and moulded dependent on who we’ve customarily interacted with: such as parents, peers and colleagues. And it is through the eyes of our personality that we regard and define others. When the personality has an embedded mistrust or hostility pattern, it projects that onto others. Granted, many people can exhibit forceful or intimidating mannerisms, but when your buttons get pushed by a few words, or a glance, or even just by their status, then you know that you have stuff to clear – otherwise you’ll keep that track of inferred hostility open and well-trodden.

The process of clearing entails our capacity to suffuse (or ‘pervade’) the citta with healthy ripples and waves. This entails a soft and slow expansion of awareness through body and heart. It’s a meditative training based on the understanding that where awareness goes, energy goes; awareness is the primary intelligence of citta. It’s through this that ignorance is removed.

In terms of practice, you don’t go into the tangling energies of ill-will, craving or despond, but stay wide and steady around them. With reference to the bodily aspect of patterning, you slowly extend awareness through the entire body, so that the refined energy of breathing and the uncontracted quality of awareness clear hindrances. This generates the bright states of rapture and ease; and the mind settles in samādhi. In terms of heart, the suffusion is of the intentions of kindness, or compassion, or appreciative joy, or equanimity – so that the contracted or sour heart-energy unfolds into a beautiful abiding: ‘abundant, exalted, immeasurable, free from hostility and ill-will.’[28] Although they have different approaches, their combined cultivation is the kamma that generates the ‘great heart’.[29]

In referring to the brahmavihāra states, the Buddha uses the simile of someone blowing on a conch to evoke the way that these radiate and suffuse the atmosphere.[30] Exactly what ‘tune’ one plays depends on the distortion one is healing. There is the bleak ‘have to do it on my own’ hardness that needs the nourishing quality of kindness; at other times, it’s the heart’s irritability or vulnerability that calls for compassion, the protective energy. Sometimes it’s the case whereby we recognize the harm that comes from neglecting what is good in ourselves and others, or even through taking others for granted. Then the intent to appreciate goodness can arise. It’s important to not neglect this: the stream of good deeds that you did do, the kind words that just seemed natural, but were the right thing at the right time, the acts of courtesy or generosity that other people manifest. It’s important not to overlook appreciation – because we often do.

Equanimity holds the empathetic space and allows things to unfold. It doesn’t ask for results, but attunes to how things are right now. It is where the issue of self comes to an end as we understand kamma. With this, we realize that ultimately no-one did anything: it’s just that patterns and programs get established based on reckless actions, and on what each person has had done to them.

In the world in general, there’s a huge inheritance of psychological programs based upon violence and deprivation – and who knows where all that began. Under the pressure of desperate need and hopelessness, in a context that is starved of goodwill, or is abusive, citta can get so distorted and compressed that it only experiences relief in the blaze of rage and brutality. For example, say your father got brutalized by being in a war; this led to his bouts of depression, explosive rage and drunkenness. You picked up the results of that, were insecure and became abusive towards yourself and insensitive to others. Where and when do these cycles of violence and punishment and revenge end? Only when we can regard our own and other people’s actions empathetically in terms of cause and effect. That regard is equanimity, the most reliable base for action.

To be continued

meditation on goodwill

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Excerpts From “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto.

Establish your presence in the place where you’re sitting, putting other concerns to one side. Then ask yourself, ‘How am I right now?’ Consider this, with a listening kind of attention. Even as bodily sensations or mind-states change, attend to the more continual overall feeling of how you are with any of this.

If the mind starts spinning with ideas about what you should do or be, widen your awareness around that spin. Don’t fix or fight it. Think slowly: ‘May I be well’ over the span of an out-breath. Add ‘May I listen to all this, spaciously …’.  You may need to go slowly, with long listening pauses, but this could be all you need to do in order to resolve a dilemma.

If you want to take the practice further, consider: ‘What would it be like if I was in the presence of someone or something that was regarding me with warmth?’ (You can even recollect your dog.) Introduce the thought: ‘What would that be like? How would I sense that?’ and attend closely to any resonance in the heart. Attune to the tonality of an image and an approach that fits. Listen to that, spaciously.

Recollect any time in your life when someone was glad to see you, did you a favour, gave you some kindly attention, or enjoyed your presence. How is that, now? Ask: ‘Does my body know that?’ Attend to any drop in tension, or lift in energy – particularly in the face, and in the heart region.

Put aside more general reflections or memories of that person or that time, and return to any specific goodwill moment and how it felt for you. You may repeat this with a few people and several incidents.

When you can establish that process, linger in the heart and bodily effect and lessen the thinking accordingly. Gradually simplify and consolidate the process until you arrive at a simple image (of warmth or light, for example), or a bodily sense – of ease or joy. Sit in that, sweeping it through your body like a massage. Expand your awareness of the feel of that in terms of your overall disposition until there’s no need for the thought process.

As you settle into that, breathe it into your presence. Then expand it out through the skin into the space immediately around you. You may wish to express that benevolence to particular people, or to other beings in general. Notice who easily comes to mind – someone who you readily feel goodwill towards.

Then bring to mind someone whom you have no strong feelings for. Consider seeing them out of the context in which you normally encounter them. Imagine them enjoying themselves, or worried, or in distress. Spend some time rounding out your impression of them in a sympathetic way. ‘May he/she be well.’ Expand your awareness of the feel of that wish; notice how it affects your overall disposition and body tone. Enjoy feeling more empathically attuned.

Let the feeling and effect of that settle. Then consider someone you have difficulties with. Focus on an aspect of their behaviour that you don’t find difficult. Consider them out of the context in which you normally encounter them.

Imagine them enjoying themselves, or worried, or in distress. Spend some time rounding out your impression of them. Feel what it’s like to not feel frightened of, or irritated by, this person. As you sense your own relaxation, bring to mind the thought: ‘May we be free from conflict.’ Expand your awareness of that wish and energy.

Now it may be possible to just be with, rather than in, yourself. Explore the felt sense of who you take yourself as being; that is, your moods, energies and thought-processes. And however, you may be at this moment: ‘May this be heard. May I listen to this, spaciously.’

When you wish to conclude, return to the simple presence of the body – the sense of having a centre, with the rest of the body extending around it to the skin boundary. Settle and stabilize these before you open your eyes.

As a further practice, set up an occasion to listen to  another, spaciously and quietly. Let yourself receive the mood and tone as they speak. If need be (agree upon a procedure or a wording before the occasion begins), you might suggest, when they pause: ‘How is it to be with this?’ Also note to yourself how you’re being affected. Remember, this is not a conversation, nor an attempt to explain or change anything. It’s about opening an empathetic space. That will have its own effects.

After ten or fifteen minutes, swap the roles.

To be continued