Tag Archives: metta

whole-life path (part 1)

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto.
Continued from last week:
“Like this, you relinquish. Can you mentally share whatever good has arisen, and release wherever dukkha has got stuck? Like this, you relinquish. Can you begin the day with a dedication towards bringing skilful qualities into being, commit to that and learn to not ask for results? If you develop a practice like that, do it more often: whatever comes into being in the morning … in the afternoon … in the evening – you relinquish it, you let it go. Or around scenarios: whatever arises with this project … with this event … with this conversation … And so on. Even as you’re doing it, in every act, relinquish the actor. This check-in with relinquishment restrains ignorance, so one’s awareness can shift to being a presence through which qualities can stream in response to what arises. The liberated citta doesn’t impose, or require, a lot of conditions.“

The full scope of this ‘no-conditions’ view is encapsulated in the teaching of the Four Noble Truths: of suffering, its origin, its ceasing and the Path to that ceasing. All of these arise through fine-tuned intention. It’s rather like using an X-ray or an angiogram to look into aspects of your body. You’re not looking to the normal self-image with its definitions. Instead, you’re exploring where you’re stuck, what you need to do about it, where you’re getting free and how to develop that. The Four Noble Truths present us with a map of the old kamma we carry, of how fresh kamma gets generated, of how it doesn’t, and of the kamma that leads to that ceasing.

As we work on our mental patterns and programs, we acknowledge the suffering and stress involved with identifying with them: First Noble Truth. This takes us into the Second Noble Truth: that dukkha has an origin – in the reflex of craving and aversion that powers sense-desire, becoming and not-becoming. This suggests actions to get the mind clear enough and firm enough to arrest those reflexes.

The Third Noble Truth, that dukkha can stop, brings with it the intention that the stopping is to be fully realized and made into a path. This means expanding awareness into the full range of experience. It’s subtle because our attention is partial. That is, we readily notice the pressure and the snags in the heart; we give great significance to the ‘wow!’ and the ‘why me?’ of our emotive patterns. But to acknowledge non-suffering and non-passion takes the intention to develop and linger in qualities such as spaciousness and evenness of mind. Can we acknowledge the times when we’re not constructing some future, past or present; or anywhere in our bodies or minds where we feel settled? Because the Third Truth is also an acknowledgement that the dukkha that we could end arises dependent on the distorting influence of craving. So instead of looking for what might or ought to be, why not notice more fully what’s already here? For instance, there’s always awareness.

The Fourth Truth, the Truth of the Path, carries the intention that non-stress is to be integrated into life. This intention integrates all the practices of ethics, of meditation and of understanding; it causes us to consider right view, right attitude, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness and right concentration. What is ‘right’ about all of them is that they are based not on feeling, but on bright intention. (And that does have an agreeable feeling to it.) So, intention is paramount, and to be developed within the range of one’s actions and interactions.

Whole-Life Path [Part 1]
You can curtail some stressful kamma through willpower, rather like rapping your knuckles when you’re about to seriously go astray. Willpower has its uses. If you’re hypnotized, don’t keep gazing at and meditating on the swinging pendulum – instead, use willpower to break free. So it is with addictive habits – don’t follow them. But that action has to be backed up with firm and committed resolve, and with addressing the causes whereby we get addicted. If you only operate from willpower, you get brutal and stupid – and addicted to willpower. Powerful people need to have something to get wilful about, because they feel disoriented without willpower’s galvanising effect. But the more wilful the mind is, the less receptive and flexible it is; and that limits its capacity for inquiry and learning. What’s really needed is a full range of intentions – such as learning to act cooperatively with others, reviewing assumptions, and breaking old habits. We also need to linger in and absorb the good, and to maintain patience with the unpredictable that is at the heart of life.

For the supreme skill of coming out of the outflows, the Buddha listed a range of intentions: to focus with deep attention; to restrain the sense-faculties; to use material resources and requisites only as they are needed; to endure the disagreeable; to steer clear of one’s weak spots; to cut off the torrent of unskilful thoughts; and to develop the factors of awakening.[55] It’s a range that can cover one’s life.

This whole-life Path is founded in deep attention: in seeing experience not in terms of self and becoming, but in terms of qualities that lead out of suffering and stress or into it. This sets us up to meet contact-impressions without reactivity; and that changes intention on a wider scale – away from getting things done on time, or my way, to one of a patient assessment of what is skilful right now. Also, the shifting of attention from inflammatory topics to ones that deepen the mind and open the heart, leads to a fuller and more balanced approach to life. Above all, when we shift our view from ‘me’ and ‘my way’ and ‘why is life so unfair?’ to one of ‘where is there stress, and where does it stop?’, suffering and stress get curtailed, some long-term programs get switched off and liberating wisdom arises. The axiom is ‘What’s getting in my way, is the Way’ – if we use deep attention. It’s the most universally applicable tool for stepping out of stress.

With that understanding, we approach life like a pilgrimage – first with the unspoken inquiry: what do we need to take with us? How much do we delight in, depend on and consume material things? It’s a far-reaching series of questions. The fever for more, springing as it does from the neglect of our heart-resources, consumes everything: one’s attention, one’s generosity, one’s compassion, one’s society – as well as aspects of the biosphere that sustain our lives. In terms of the pilgrimage, this ignorance is a death trap.

So, it’s worthwhile looking into how much one uses and exploring why that is. I often look at my belongings and think: ‘If I had to leave here, say there was a fire, could I carry all I really need with me?’ It’s a good exercise. Another one is to scan one’s living space and reflect: ‘I can either have this (book, item of clothing, etc.) or I can have the space. Which do I prefer?’ I have a box in which I put anything I haven’t used for a while. If I don’t take it out of the box inside a month – why keep it? Maybe someone else can use it.

Also look out for where you tend to get caught. Be truthful about the weak spots; linger and scrutinize the blur of habitual activity, or of acting on assumptions or social pressure. Within these, the outflows run – with ignorance acting as their cover. This is old kamma. To the extent that one’s mind has followed the consumer ethic of the mainstream; to the extent that one’s attention has been trained in the ‘business model’ of a narrow focus on external goals and minimal introspection; to the extent that one has identified with power and status, or got caught up with social trends – through any of that, the citta is bound to have acquired residual habits. It will also be undernourished in terms of deep attention and qualities that lead to awakening. This condition can change, but that does entail cultivating deep attention and keeping away from where the outflows stream. Meanwhile, don’t get fazed by the arising of old habits, but reflect on them to remind yourself to avoid old ways: don’t follow outdated maps and false guides. Of these, a good number will also crop up in one’s thinking mind. After all, this too is conditioned in terms of content (education, media) and in the authority we give to it.

Continued next week 19 June 2025

distortions and clear seeing

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Selected excerpts from “Kamma and the end of Kamma” by Ajahn Sucitto.
Continued from last week:
Isn’t it the case that much of life is the experience of trying to have an experience that we’re not having? Or trying to not have the experience that we are having? That underlying drive is outflow, its trigger is feeling and its drive is by craving. Therefore, any action – or decisive inaction – that goes against the craving, and any shift by which we see through the ignorance that obscures the failure of craving to give us fulfilment, must be crucial. That shift is away from regarding these outflows as the bases of our identity, and towards dispassionate inquiry. [53]

If there is dispassion, there’s the capacity to not blindly follow feeling. That allows the three characteristics to be verified. In terms of sense-contact, we can witness anicca not just with regard to transience, but also with how relative sense-contact is: how it just touches an aspect of awareness, and limits the ‘inner’ heart qualities. We can lose an essential part of ourselves in the senses. Furthermore, sense-contact is dukkha, in that it doesn’t satisfy and has to be reached out to.

Acknowledging these characteristics has an effect on intention; craving is checked and the outflow into the sense-fields gets arrested – not through becoming blind, deaf or brainless, but by softening or removing the mind’s automatic link to sense-contact. This brake on sensory attachment also arrests the current of ignorance: if we maintain awareness as the pull into sight, taste, thought and so on ceases, we can see through the current and notice that, where that outflow stops, it’s peaceful.

Therefore, through dispassionate seeing there’s an alternative to bonding to the caused and conditioned flux of sense-consciousness. Replacing that outflow with kindness, sharing and other aspects of goodwill is definitely more satisfying. So the shift to dispassion affects our source of well-being and of long-term motivation. It even changes who we seem to be.

The flood of becoming is more difficult. Our social lives run on it; this outflow carries the future, the past and our sense of identity. But when you look at experience directly, it’s obvious that all we are or have is arising in awareness right now; our memories happen now, the results of what we’ve been involved with happen now, and our projected future happens now. Yes, we have to plan and retain information; we have to acquire knowledge and adequate resources to keep going … but if one acknowledges that time brings with it uncertainty about the future (uncertainty being another feature of anicca), and the recognition that things are never complete (dukkha again), such an acknowledgement steadies and cools intention. As the future is always uncertain, we choose to pause, deepen and clear the blur of assumptions and expectations rather than keep running on autopilot. The mind then operates in an immediacy that allows its full resources to gather, and to be more discerning about specific action – or non-action.

Furthermore, this review of becoming means that the self-referencing that ripples on the tide of action can arise free of worry, expectations or compulsive duty. This gives the mind a way of lessening some of the tangles of identity, while getting a feel for the natural arising of good qualities. For example, faith and clarity arise ‘by themselves’: the less of the habitual ‘me’, the more the spaciousness and ease. In a world of unknowables, this is directly knowable – and positive.

Of course, in relationship to others, we orient around becoming a recognizable and reliable individual, even though heart and mind are ever-fluctuating. It’s good to have a responsible approach towards being with others. How then to handle that sense of becoming someone? How to distinguish between skilful motivation and craving? True enough, chanda and taṇhā do get mixed up – what starts as aspiration and motivation can easily slide into ‘I have to do … everyone depends on me … got to make it work!’ In the vortex of kamma, an understandable craving for a feel-good result has crept in – and ‘future’, ‘solid result’ and ‘self and other’ attempt to sail across an ocean that’s marked by anicca, dukkha, anattā. Stress and suffering are on their way.

This is because the wished-for results cannot be guaranteed. Maybe you don’t have the skills right now, or the scenario isn’t open to your input. Even the Buddha could only point the way – and his own cousin tried to kill him seven times. So he didn’t always get positive reviews. Therefore, be on the lookout for an intention that’s hungry for results, or expects people to understand and agree with you. That’s craving. Also, be attentive when circumstances change. Maybe there’s the loss of a partner or a job, maybe there’s illness or disability, maybe the great plan gets capsized, or the ability to make things happen is checked. Whatever … when the way forward gets blocked, it’s time to breathe in … and out … and attend to the citta. To the extent that there’s becoming, sorrow, anxiety or irritation wells up. But this can also be a learning moment: to what extent was I invested in the future? What condition was I relying on to be steady and “stable? Give deep attention to the citta: that’s the correct motivation; giving ungrounded attention to the feeling invites the taṇhā that will throw you into suffering. Seen in this way, the characteristic of dukkha is a pointer not to the cynicism of not-becoming, but to cultivating wisdom. Learn about dispassionate action. With that you act, but realize your actions occur in a field that’s not under your control.

Operating within a dynamic and sensitive context takes balance. But as you cultivate that balance, you get more sensitive to the things that go wrong, or the internal discord. The mind, or rather the force of becoming in the mind, tries to change all that, set things straight, tidy and right. So, it operates with the search tag: ‘What next? What should I do? What is right?’, as if there could be a knowable next, or an ultimately right way of doing things. Thus, it creates an anxious, agitated self – one who thinks that the unsatisfactori-ness of mind-states, actions, plans and people is going to get cured by their actions – ‘and then I can settle and be happy.’ This strategy never succeeds. The trajectory of becoming is always towards suffering, stress and a self who’s stuck in it.

The Unborn
‘There is, monks, an unborn, unbecome, unmade, unconditioned. If, monks, there were not that unborn, unbecome, “unmade, unconditioned, you could not know an escape here from the born, become, made, and conditioned. But because there is an unborn, unbecome, unmade, unconditioned, therefore you do know an escape from the born, become, made, and conditioned.’
(Udāna 8:3; Bhikkhu Ānandajoti, trans.)

Motivation, however, can aim towards meeting the unknown and fallible with a dispassionate openness; and it can gather the skills and strengths to do so. Present-moment agility and quick-wittedness are the qualities of a citta that’s fit for work. Just as someone walking a tightrope can’t succeed if they think of how they should walk or whether they’re good enough, so one has to switch from the thirst for becoming to the desire for balance. That desire, that Dhamma-motivation, is to steer the mind out of becoming and not-becoming, into a balance where the fog of ignorance and craving can lift.

Any scenario will suggest a range of possible outcomes; if there is ignorance, if I’m coming from a self-view, my attempts to make the possible into the actual run down the track of ‘me’ and ‘mine’. Then I have a fixed idea of a desirable outcome, I get impatient, even forceful, and probably overlook a few details or even people … so the flow of becoming creates a forceful self who feels frustrated and offends others.

A better way to proceed is to put aside time and identity, steadily. Can you relax the time boundary and its pressure, and trust good qualities to do their work? Can you go easy on what you should, will, or will never be; or what you feel others want you to be? As a memo: whatever you do, you could have done it differently; whatever you do, some will like it and some won’t; whoever they are, there will be a degree of confusion, conflict and separation in relationship to them.

You can discharge any waves of uncertainty and the pressures they can bring up by extending mindful awareness over the bodily and emotional effects. Then you have a base from which to step back from compulsive programs. As you sense the steadying effect of that, you’ve done the first important thing. You’ve checked the tide; and as a more dispassionate awareness opens around the feeling, the spin of doubt, pressure and agitation calms down. Then the citta can open.

With that clearer view, you can notice that what has become – that is, the present mind-state or scenario – is just that. It has a good or bad quality, but it isn’t an identity. If it were an identity, you’d be in that state from birth to death. Can you witness that quality rather than become it? What you can recognize is that it’s not the changeable and stress-inducing characteristics of conditioned qualities that are the problem you can solve – it’s the belief that they should be otherwise. Because  of this ignorance, there is becoming this or that – and no peace. Moreover, the problem isn’t that one hasn’t become an utterly effective and unwavering person, it’s the belief that body, feeling, perception, programs/formations and consciousness could assemble one. That’s another fantasy.

The Buddha called these beliefs (along with the belief that true beauty lies in the realm of sense-contact) ‘distortions’ (vipallāsā).[54] To get free from these distortions entails relating to what arises in line with the characteristics of anicca, dukkha, anattā – and to maintain that view as you act. This destroys craving – this is relinquishment (vossagga), this is letting go; it is the springboard to the Unconditioned.

Can you acknowledge at the end of a day that whatever becoming has occurred for you, it’s just that, and not a person, not a fixed state? That the praise, the blame, the elation and dejection are perceptions, felt meanings, patterns and programs? Meet them, know them, then settle the mind. Like this, you relinquish. Can you mentally share whatever good has arisen, and release wherever dukkha has got stuck? Like this, you relinquish. Can you begin the day with a dedication towards bringing skilful qualities into being, commit to that and learn to not ask for results? If you develop a practice like that, do it more often: whatever comes into being in the morning … in the afternoon … in the evening – you relinquish it, you let it go. Or around scenarios: whatever arises with this project … with this event … with this conversation … And so on. Even as you’re doing it, in every act, relinquish the actor. This check-in with relinquishment restrains ignorance, so one’s awareness can shift to being a presence through which qualities can stream in response to what arises. The liberated citta doesn’t impose, or require, a lot of conditions.

Continued next week, 12 June 2025

is there an end?

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

… with the destruction of craving
comes the destruction of kamma;
with the destruction of kamma
comes the destruction of suffering.
S.46:26 – ‘The Destruction of Craving

Do you ever wonder whether your practice is getting anywhere? Do you sometimes just step back from the fine details and consider: ‘Am I doing the right thing? Am I more at peace with myself? Am I doing enough for other people, or the world in general?’

Good questions. Well, some results of Dhamma practice are immediate: we’re more conscious of what impulses are running through our systems; and we get a sense for what to act upon and what to put aside. We establish and firm up values – ones that can withstand the pressure of busy lives and the biases of the media. And we learn some meditation exercises with which to calm the mind and warm the heart.

But if you just assess how you’re doing in terms of the conditions that arise in the mind, the conclusions aren’t that reliable. Daily life may find you juggling future gains and losses against present variables, or not being in agreement with your colleagues and neighbours. But with practice, you get less fazed by this; you don’t have to internalize and accumulate the world. That internal action can lessen and stop. So, here’s one big test: can you be free from conditions, even whilst in the midst of them?[49] That release comes through insight-fully witnessing that however things are, they will change, and no plan can be utterly reliable; that conditions are always precarious, stress-inducing and unsatisfying; and through realizing that there is no unchanging self who could control, be found in, or get out of, this predicament. Sounds miserable? No, these three characteristics – changeability (anicca), unsatisfactoriness (dukkha) and not-self (anattā) – are keys to liberation. This acknowledgement is not a nihilistic move. It’s a pointer to signs that will motivate the citta to relinquish a basis in the unsatisfactory field of kamma. And that means that, not rooted in that field, the citta can operate within it like an obliging guest, with compassion. This release from the field of kamma is possible because the ‘true home’ of the citta is an ‘unconditioned, unbecome’ that the Buddha referred to as ‘the Deathless’.

Exit From Samsara: Turning Off the Outflows
The Path to that unconditioned begins with disengagement and dispassion.[50] But bear in mind that the disengagement is not disengagement from the heart, but from actions, or the basis of actions, that one sees as being unskilful or pointless. And the dispassion is towards feelings and their basis that would trigger passion in an untrained mind. You have to know the details for yourself, but the result of that skilful disengagement is greater ease, mental/emotional agility and freedom from burden.

It was from this mode of citta, steadied, settled and directed, that the Buddha reviewed the causal field and experienced three profound realizations. First, there was the witnessing of the field as being more than a matter of personal history; it was a veritable ocean that extended beyond the life-span that he was engaged with. The second realization was that the direction of the currents on that ocean was determined by an ethical undercurrent, or ‘kamma’. This pushed the heart towards bright or dark abiding places dependent on the quality of its intention. But what brought him liberation from all push-and-pull places was the third great realization.[51]

This realization is expressed in terms of terminating the driving currents of that tidal ocean. In so doing, the seeker became ‘Buddha’, the Awakened One. These ‘currents’ are the outflows (āsavā) – the psychological tides that roll out a flow of moods, aims and memories bound to a field of changing sensations, energies and social interactions. It all seems so personal. And in a way it is: at any given moment, that apparent ‘person’ is a snapshot of the outflow and involvement with sensuality (kāmāsava), the nagging search for, or resistance to, feeling based on sense-contact. That ‘person’ gets stressed as he or she acquires the further pressure of the ongoing attempt to get solid, and get established as a discrete identity – this is the outflow of ‘becoming’ (bhavāsava). And what keeps this outflow unexamined and unquestioned is the resultant lack of deep attention. That is, because we’re occupied with, in fact swept along in, the wrong search, the citta is running on automatic. This is summarised as the outflow of ignorance (avijjāsava).[*]

The Buddha had the meditative skills to calm those currents; and he recommended that others develop those skills. He described the bright, refined states that resulted from such development as ‘the best basis for clinging’, while adding that a more significant development is possible: ‘this is the Deathless, the liberation of the mind from all clinging.’[52]

The gist of this is that such states have a refined attention and intention, provide great firmness and offer relief from disagreeable feeling – but these form a basis for liberation, and not a final abiding. With such qualities, the mind can be gathered into imperturbability and see clearly – and it is through directing this clear seeing towards the destruction of the āsavā, rather than through delighting in refined ease, that complete liberation occurs.

Much of this may seem remote. However, as far as the perspective on kamma goes, the point is that aspects of the causal field, namely the identity and the stress that are bound up in it, are a result of outflows that can be switched off. This switching-off is the kamma that liberates: ‘the kamma that leads to the end of kamma is the Noble Eightfold Path.’ (A.6:63)

The Noble Eightfold Path presents that kamma as a Way that covers all aspects of our lives. A simple tip as to where to work on these outflows is to go wide and deep. What moves you along from this to that? Isn’t it the case that much of life is the experience of trying to have an experience that we’re not having? Or trying to not have the experience that we are having? That underlying drive is outflow, its trigger is feeling and its drive is by craving. Therefore, any action – or decisive inaction – that goes against the craving, and any shift by which we see through the ignorance that obscures the failure of craving to give us fulfilment, must be crucial. That shift is away from regarding these outflows as the bases of our identity, and towards dispassionate inquiry. [53]

Continued next week: June 05, 2025

meeting space

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

Standing Meditation

Stand with your feet body’s width apart, feet parallel, and give the weight of your body over to the ground through the soles of your feet. As the body is accustomed to being propped up, or leaning on something, it often ‘forgets’ how to stand on its feet! Therefore, you may need to consciously relax the knees, the buttocks, and the shoulders and release any tension in the jaw and around the eyes, in order to let your feet carry you.

Bring up the sense that where you stand is completely safe and supportive. You may know this in your head, but not in your chest, throat or shoulders. So gradually survey the body, then sense this through the skin, being conscious of ‘touching’ the space around you. Allow the body to fully feel and acknowledge that the space in front, then above, and then behind, is unobstructed and non-intrusive. Develop the theme; for example, ask yourself: ‘What is behind me?’ And then reflect: ‘Behind me is strong support. Nothing to ward off. Acknowledge that above your head is perfect open space. Relax around your forehead and eyes and try to sense that space through your scalp. Linger in the realization: ‘Nothing holding me down.’

Check the posture from time to time to keep the legs, chest, shoulders and abdomen from tightening up; keep the knees soft, letting the ground beneath you carry the body’s weight. Let the body explore the sense of being supported by the ground beneath. It will relax, find stability, and the breathing will become fuller and its rhythms will help to receive and release any stress. A sense of fully occupying the surrounding space will arise. You may feel a little larger and more at home.

Stay with the general sense of the body, without losing the sense of being ‘in’ a space, and without attending to any external phenomena in particular. Keep your attention where the sense of your body meets the sense of the space. The mind will probably want to go into something, either into the body, a thought or an attitude, or out to some visual object. It will want to have a purpose, or something to get hold of; there may be a struggle to get rid of moods and feelings. However, keep simply focused on the bodily energy, or on moods that arise at the sense of meeting the space around you.

Bodily energy may be experienced as rising currents, or shakiness; it may be felt across the chest or in the abdomen. Naturally there may be corresponding emotional states such as excitement, or nervousness. You may experience flushes of tension that move into release. Attune to the upright axis of the body by imagining that there’s a thread connecting the soles of the feet to the sacrum, to the spine, and on up through the neck and the crown of the head. Extend that thread down into the ground and up through the crown of the head into the space above you. Let your body be like a bead on this thread. Breathe out and in to provide a sense of steadiness and ease.

Don’t go into any bodily or emotional states, but keep aware of the whole thread, the axis of balance, or as much of it as is possible. Within that extended sense of the body, allow energies and moods to move as you very slowly sweep your awareness down through your head and over your throat and upper chest. Use the activity of ‘bringing to mind’ and ‘evaluating’: that is, think or bring to mind ‘forehead’ and then consider how it feels in terms of elemental qualities. Is it firm, solid or tight (earth)? is it warm or cold (fire)? Are there movements of energy or pulses in that area?

You may detect subtle tensions across the eyes, or around the mouth, or across the throat and upper chest. If so, slow down, centre again on the axis of balance and slowly widen your attention across the area that you’re focusing on and into the space immediately around your body. Practise meeting whatever arises without going into it. Instead, if a sense comes up that is tight, emotive, or agitated, connect to the axis of balance, and soften and widen your attention.

Develop the sense of being seen in that open state, in a simple and appreciative way. Simply attend to that and how it feels. Allow yourself the time to feel, take in and enjoy the sense of being in a benevolent space. Images of being in light, or in warmth, or in water, may be beneficial. Is there any boundary to that space, anything outside it? Acknowledge that whatever boundary arises, arises within awareness.

Practise in accordance with your capacity; then when you feel like concluding, spend some time clearing the space of images and impressions, then focus on the skin again, discerning its boundaries all around the body. Then without losing the overall spaciousness, sense your spine and bodily centre within that bounded space. Come out of the meditation by acknowledging the sounds in the room around you, the visual field and then the specific objects around you. Move lightly, orientating yourself through the sense of touch.

To be continued.

 [Note, one section of the text not included here, “Exploration and the Inner Friend” please check on the original: Chapter Six, The Kamma of Relationship, page 362. You can download your pdf copy of the book, click on the link below – this is a Dhamma publication so it’s available free of charge.]

https://storage.googleapis.com/dhammabooks/Ajahn-Sucitto/Kamma%20and%20the%20End%20of%20Kamma/Kamma%20and%20the%20End%20of%20Kamma%20-%20Ajahn%20Sucitto%202021.pdf

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 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