http://here-and-now.org/VSI/Articles/TheoryMed/theoryHow.htm
by Shinzen Young
An introductory overview of techniques for mental development within the Buddhist traditions of Theravada, Tantra and Zen and including reference to Christian contemplative practice.
The Buddhist world comprises three broad traditions. Much of Southeast Asia (Ceylon, Burma, Thailand, Laos and Cambodia) preserves an early form of Indian Buddhism, the Theravada. A very late and highly evolved expression of Indian Buddhism, Vajrayana or Tantra, has dominated in Tibet, Mongolia and Nepal. In East Asia, we find Buddhism greatly transformed at the hands of the Chinese. It is this "Sinified" form of Buddhism which enters Korea, Japan and Vietnam. Zen is a product of East Asia.
Within each of these three spheres, numerous schools, traditions and individual approaches exist for the practice of meditation. Yet concerning basic principles, there is remarkable agreement among Buddhists as to what is involved in the meditative process.
This distinctive Buddhist orientation towards meditation can be summed up concisely. Meditation consists of two aspects or components. The first, called shamatha in Sanskrit, is the step by step development of mental and physical calmness. The second, vipashyana1, is the step by step heightening of awareness, sensitivity and observation. These two components complement each other and should be practiced simultaneously. Some techniques develop primarily calming, others primarily clarity, still others both equally. It is of utmost importance, however, that one component not be enhanced at the expense of the other. To do so is no longer meditation. Tranquility at the expense of awareness is dozing; awareness at the expense of calm is 'tripping.'
Shamatha, if taken to an extreme, leads to special trance states; these may be of value, but they are not the ultimate goal of Buddhism. The practice of clear observation, on the other hand, if developed with sufficient intensity and consistency leads to a moment of insight into the nature of the self identification process. At that moment, awareness penetrates into the normally unconscious chain of mental events which gives us the rock-solid conviction "I am separate and limited." This insight brings with it a radical and permanent change in perspective . . . a refreshing sense of freedom which is not dependent upon circumstances2. The attainment of this perspective and the full manifestation of its implications in daily life are the goals of Buddhist meditation.
What follows will amplify upon the above ideas and describe briefly a few specific practices drawn from the three Buddhist cultural spheres of East Asia, Southeast Asia, and Tibet.
| Shamatha |  |
Shamatha is the practice of stilling the mind through letting go. In Buddhist usage, it is virtually synonymous with the term samadhi. This latter term is usually translated as "one-pointedness" or concentration. Unfortunately, the word concentration often carries the connotation of repressing the mind, forcing it not to wander from a certain object. Such a tug of war between the desire of the mind to hold an object and its desire to wander is exhausting and produces unconscious tensions. This is the very antithesis of the shamatha state.
The nature of concentration is detachment. Realizing this marks an important step along the path to the attainment of mental power. In real concentration, one simply rests the mind on the object at hand and then proceeds to let go of everything else in the universe. The mind then remains on that object until it is appropriate to shift attention. Thus, the ability to focus, to totally concentrate on one thing, is essentially equivalent to the ability to let go of everything. But, in order to do this, it is necessary to relax the body in a special way.
First one learns to keep the body upright and utterly motionless entirely through balance and relaxation, without using muscular effort. The ideal posture for this is the cross-legged lotus, although satisfactory results can be achieved with a variety of postures, including sitting in a chair3. The important thing is to align the vertebra, find a position of equilibrium, and simply let the body hang from the spine by its own weight. This feeling of letting go then extends to the breath and finally to the mind itself.
Since shamatha has the dual nature of letting go and one-pointedness, two approaches to the mind are possible. One is simply to allow the emotional and conceptual content of the mind to settle of its own weight. A way this may be achieved is through the elegant technique of "analogy." One feels a part of the body, such as the arm, relaxing, then discovers the mental analog of that feeling, i.e., what it feels like to relax thought.
The second approach is to rest the attention on a specific object and gently return it there each time it wanders off. Eventually this wandering habit weakens, then disappears. The object may be physical or visualized, outside the body or within. The so-called "elephant taming pictures" of Tibet portray this process in detail.4
It is common in all Buddhist traditions to give beginners some form of meditation which brings the mind to rest on the breathing. In Zen this usually involves counting the breaths or following the breath in and out. In the Theravada approach, one typically cultivates awareness of the touch feeling of the breath at the nose tip or abdomen. Here no attempt whatsoever is made to control the breath. But in Vajrayana, elaborate channels for the breath are visualized in the body, and cycles of inhalation, retention and exhalation in fixed ratios are practiced as in Hatha yoga.
Chanting is also common to all traditions. When done with proper posture and intention, it can be very tranquilizing. In East Asia, chanting the Buddha Amitabha's name is especially popular. The Chinese call this practice Nien-Fo, the Japanese Nembutsu, the Koreans Yombul and the Vietnamese Niem-Phat. Many Tibetans incessantly chant mantras aloud or silently. Even in Theravada countries, the chanting of special scriptures, called pirit, represents a major event in the monastic year, often going on unbroken for many days and nights. The mind-stabilizing nature of chant and mantra recitation was also recognized in Christianity as witnessed by the "prayer of the heart" so popular in Eastern Orthodox spirituality. Chanting has a strong shamatha effect, but, as usually practiced, there is little of the vipashyana component; thus its power to bring liberating insight is weak.
| Physical Effects | |
As body, breath and mind settle, a distinctive slowing down of the overall metabolism begins to take effect. One needs to sleep less, eat less, breathe less. In fact, spontaneous slowing of breath is probably the most easily observed physical barometer of depth of samadhi. Normal adults at sea level breathe about fifteen times per minute. During seated meditation, at a middle level of shamatha, the breathing rate may drop to only two or three breaths a minute. Because shamatha practice produces such conspicuous changes in the body's function, there has recently been a good deal of physiological research on meditators. A few results of this research will be summarized here.
Meditators' brainwaves are usually highly synchronized; typically this takes the form of increase in the alpha rhythm whose frequency ranges from eight to twelve cycles per second. This enhanced alpha production in meditators continues even when their eyes are open. In non-meditators, opening of the eyes normally stops production of alpha waves. Electromyography reveals deep muscle relaxation in spite of the upright, unsupported posture. Skin conductivity (GSR) decreases, probably indicating less sweating and hence decreased sympathetic activity. This too implies relaxation.
Researchers at Tokyo University made an interesting discovery about brain wave behavior in Zen practitioners. A group of meditators and a group of non-meditators were asked to sit quietly with electrodes attached to monitor brainwaves. A click sound was repeatedly presented to both groups. At first, both groups showed momentary "blocking" of alpha. This was as expected, for such blocking is part of the normal orienting response to a new stimulus. After several clicks, the non-meditator group no longer showed this blocking. This also is normal. They had accommodated to the stimulus: it was no longer new and fresh. But the Zen practitioners continued to momentarily block alpha with every click as if each time they were hearing the click for the first time. This fits nicely with the Zen ideal of "living in the moment." In India, a similar click experiment was done with some yogis. They showed no alpha blocking. Apparently, withdrawn in trance, they did not hear the sound.5
Shamatha is a continuum of states of progressive settling of the mind associated with growth in detachment, concentration power and a distinctive set of physiological changes. At the deep end of this continuum, these phenomena become extreme, and states, called in Pali jhanas (Sanskrit dhyana), are entered. In deep jhana, the drives to which everyone is normally subject are actually suspended, though not necessarily extinguished. This may last for a few hours or several days. One does not feel driven to move, eat, sleep or think. Indeed, the metabolism so slows that the breath seems nonexistent. The mind, which in its uncultivated state is like a torrential cataract, becomes a rippleless, limpid lake. The deepest jhana is a kind of trance, but by no means is every trance a jhana state. The characteristics of the jhanas are distinct and well-defined in a class of Buddhist literature called Abhidharma literature. In all, nine levels are distinguished.
| Development and Use of Shamatha | |
Shamatha is best developed by a daily, sitting meditation practice. What are the typical experiences of a person who takes up such a practice? - How is it likely to affect his or her day-to-day life?
At first, the body strains to remain upright during sitting, the breath is rough, piston-like. and the mind wanders terribly. One may even feel more agitated than usual. Actually, one is just becoming aware for the first time of the appalling extent and intensity of the chaos within. This awareness is really the first stage of progress. Until the mind has had a chance to really experience the discomfort caused by its habitual drivenness and fixation, there will be no motivation to develop different habits. In the Tibetan tradition, this initial sobering experience is called "realizing the mind as a waterfall."
As with any other art, however, time and regular practice bring skill at shamatha. Body learns to settle into the posture, breath becomes smooth and slow, and irrelevant thoughts no longer scream for attention but whisper and are more easily ignored. By the end of each half-hour or hour meditation period, one experiences a noticeable calm, lightness and openness. Then the task is to remember this calm state and to remain in it throughout the activities of the day!
At first, it may be possible to recapture this settling effect only during the simplest mechanical tasks such as walking, sweeping or gardening. The emphasis on manual labor in all forms of monasticism, East and West, is meant to provide situations wherein it is relatively easy to preserve inner silence while moving the body. After sufficient experience, the awareness of calm can be preserved throughout the day, though its depth may vary depending on circumstances. One can drive a car, make love, even have arguments and write books without leaving the shamatha state. One even dreams in it.
Even a person with no meditation experience can appreciate the advantage of a calm and concentrated mind in carrying out physical or mental tasks. With the deepening of shamatha, most activities of daily life are enhanced as one brings this ever more powerful, ever more stable mind to bear on them. In addition, the associated settling of the body produces an abundance of energy. Further, shamatha is a state of openness and acceptance, key factors in successful interpersonal relationships. Also, the detachment associated with shamatha makes it much easier to stick to one's principles and approach one's moral ideal.
For many shamatha practitioners, the events of the day are seen as a sequence of opportunities to deepen and apply skill at one-pointedness.
Peculiar inversions in values may take place. Normally unpleasant situations turn into gold.
Overwork and physical discomfort become "feedback devices". Uncomfortable? Go deeper! Chaotic and fearful situations are accepted as challenges to one's meditative prowess. Wasting time is no longer conceivable. Being unexpectedly kept wafting for an hour somewhere means an hour of "secret use, hidden enjoyment."6 The Sung dynasty Ch'an master Wu-Men summed it up when he said, "Most people are used twenty-four hours a day; the meditator uses twenty-four hours a day."
The states along this "shamatha continuum" from superficial calming to total trance are known outside Buddhism. Indeed, they are central to the systematic cultivation of mystical experience in all religious traditions. For example, in the Roman Catholic Church, cover terms for such states are oratio quies (prayer of quiet) and recollection7. Sometimes these states are referred to as "nondiscursive prayer" as opposed to usual prayer which uses words and thoughts. There is copious literature on the subject in both the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic traditions of Christianity. Different authors use different terminologies to distinguish benchmarks along the continuum8. The deepest trance level of prayer of quiet was sometimes called "infused contemplation" or simply "contemplation." After the 16th century, the practice of nondiscursive prayer declined in the Western church for interesting historical reasons. This, however, is beyond the scope of the present discussion.
The classical Raja yoga of Patanjali, another non-Buddhist system, distinguishes three stages along the continuum of settling which are referred to as the 'inner branches' of yoga. The first is dharana (holding on) during which the yogi strives to hold the object of concentration, returning to it each time the mind wanders. When the second stage, dhyana, is reached, concentration upon the object is unbroken, like a "flowing stream of oil." Finally, all mental fluctuations cease, trance is attained, and the yogi feels that mundane limitations have been transcended. Patanjali calls this last stage samadhi. Note that, while in Buddhism the word samadhi is usually used as a general term for any state of one-pointedness, here in classical yoga it refers only to the very deepest of such state.9
Nor is the experience of shamatha found only within the context of religious mysticism; it sometimes crops up in the arts, sports and other "secular" activities which require intense concentration and relaxation.
It is interesting to see how beliefs and attitudes influence people's perceptions of the shamatha process. The musician who sometimes experiences a light transient samadhi while performing will likely associate this state only with the art and, being unaware of its broader potentials, will not strive to deepen and maintain it. In this case, the artist's daily life will never be engulfed and transformed by the experience.
| The Value of Trance | |
Mystics in traditions with dualistic philosophical outlooks tend to see trance as the pinnacle and ultimate goal of the mystic path. This makes perfect sense. If you believe in the dichotomy of spirit versus matter as did the Neoplatonists of Hellenistic Europe and the Sankhya theorists of ancient India, then your goal will be conceived of in terms of freeing spirit from the trammels of matter. The absence of drives and extreme withdrawal which characterize the deep end of the shamatha continuum will allow you to do this but, of course, only for limited periods of time. Eventually one must come out of trance, at which time there may or may not be a permanent transformation of consciousness. Patanjali's Raja yoga is, in fact, simply the practice associated with the Sankhya philosophy, a system which postulates a radical dichotomy between purusha (spirit) and prakriti (matter). Likewise, if you believe in a God who stands outside creation, then the way to meet God directly is to pull out of creation for a while. Furthermore, it you are theistically inclined, you will likely perceive these states of tranquility, particularly the deeper one's, as special graces conferred by God. In her "Interior Castle", the 16th century Spanish saint, Teresa of Avila, vividly describes the various levels of prayer of quiet culminating in what she calls perfect union, which roughly corresponds to the very deep jhana in Buddhism or "samadhi" in Patanjali's yoga.
For Buddhists, the attainment of samadhi at its various depths is more a skill than a supernatural grace. Like piano playing or golf, it is something that can be learned reasonably well by most people with sufficient motivation and regular practice. Of course, it is a special skill because of its great generality and power. Most other skills are enhanced by this one skill. More important, it is special because of the changes it brings to one's life.
However, shamatha, no matter how deep, is not the ultimate goal of the Buddhist. The intensity and enrichment which habitual one-pointedness brings to daily life are but pleasant byproducts of the meditative process. Even the jhanas, though purifying and refreshing, are conditioned, impermanent and ultimately unsatisfying. They may even become a hindrance to realizing the true Buddhist goal, Nirvana.10 Shamatha is merely a tool which facilitates the attainment of Nirvana.
The word Nirvana literally means extinction. Not the extinction of self, but extinction of the kleshas, the "afflictions" which prevent happiness. The kleshas may be broadly grouped under three headings: raga, dvesha and moha. Raga (desire) is the drive to repeat pleasant sensations. Dvesha (aversion, hate or antipathy) is the rejection of unpleasant sensations. Moha is confusion and lack of clarity. Moha is responsible for our sense of limited identity and prevents us from noticing the subtle malaise and discomfort which underlie all experience.
Concerning raga and dvesha, there is an important point which is sometimes missed. Raga means hankering for mental and physical pleasure, not the pleasure itself. The serious Buddhist seeks to eliminate this hankering because it is a source of suffering. Pleasure of itself is most definitely not evil and need not be abjured. Likewise, dvesha is the reaction of rejecting, psychologically and physically. Fighting with pain causes suffering. Pain, if not frantically rejected, causes little suffering. One who has come to grips with raga and dvesha, then enjoys the pleasant without feeling frustrated when the pleasant cannot be had. Likewise, he or she naturally avoids hurt yet does not feel imposed upon when harm is unavoidable. Such a person no longer carries around that internal sword of Damocles under which the majority of humanity labors, i.e. the constant threat of hell within if we don't get what we want.
So Nirvana is what life feels like to a person for whom:
No matter how assailed, anger need not arise.
No matter what the pleasure, compulsive longing need not arise.
No matter what the circumstances, a feeling of limitation need not arise.
Such a person is in a position to live exuberantly, to experience life fully, and also to fully experience death. The former is called "Nirvana with a remnant," the latter "Nirvana without a remnant."
There are two ways in which shamatha serves as a tool for attaining Nirvana. Firstly, it confers a sense of letting go which aids in the gradual renunciation of desire and aversion. Secondly, it gives the mental stability and one-pointedness necessary for effective vipashyana practice. Vipashyana destroys moha.
Moha means basically not knowing what is going on within one'self. According to Buddhism, it is the fundamental kiesha, lying at the root of all our problems. The cure lies in extending clarity and awareness down into normally unconscious processes. This sounds like much of Western psychology. The difference lies in the fact that, in meditation, awareness is cultivated within the shamatha state, that distinctive profound settling of mind and body described above. This allows for an exposing of the unconscious which is far more direct, unrelenting and keener than that usually attained in psychotherapy. Not surprisingly, the results are different. Therapy, when successful, solves specific problems. Meditation, when successful, provides a general solution applicable to any problem, even "biggies" like guilt, loss of loved one's, failure, intractable disease, old age and death. Psychology tells us something about how a person's problems arise. Meditation reveals something about how the idea of "person" arises and, in doing so, frees one from the necessity to always identity with being a particular person. Within the context of such radical objectivity, personal problems can then be dealt with very efficiently.
| Liberating Insight | |
The term vipashyana is derived from three Sanskrit morphemes, vi-pash-yana. -yana is suffix used to form nouns denoting actions or processes (technically it is the "iotacized" or "y-" form of the common nomen actionis suffix -ana). Note the short 'a' in yana. It should not be confused with yana meaning vehicle. Vi- is a prefix connoting both separation and penetration just as its Greek counterpart dia- does (dia-critic "serving to separate," dia-thermy "passing heat through.") Both vi- and dia- are ultimately derived from the Indo European *dwi- believed to be related to *dwo- meaning "two." Pash is a shortened form of spash, which is ultimately connected both to the Latin stem spec- (as in spectacle) and the English word spy. It means simply to see. So vi-pash-yana means both to "see with separation," i.e. to discern clearly the components of one's experience, and to "see through," i.e. gain penetrating understanding into the nature of experience. Thus vipashyana connotes both the practice of investigation (mindfulness) and the wisdom that arises as the result of the investigation (insight). In the most general sense, vipashyana refers to the clarifying side of the meditation coin while shamatha refers to the calming side. In this general sense, all forms of meditation, Buddhist and otherwise, can be analyzed in terms of shamatha and vipashyana effects. But the term vipashyana (or its Pali equivalent Vipassana) is also used as a proper noun (hence the capital 'V' here). In this sense, it refers to a specific style (or more accurately, a group of related styles) of meditation practiced in the Theravada countries of South East Asia, South East Thailand and Burma. This style emphasizes systematic observation of the sense gates...infusing ordinary experience with precision and equanimity.
Sustained vipashyana leads to a moment of liberating insight when a huge mass of moha falls away like a chunk of concrete revealing a vista of freedom. In scholastic Buddhism, this is called "entering the stream of nobles." The Rinzai school speaks of kensho (seeing one's nature) or satori ("catching on"). Sometimes in English it is referred to as initial enlightenment or breakthrough. At that moment, the wisdom eye opens, but wider for some than for others. In any case, it never closes again. This is no "peak experience" which later fades. It is a permanent change in perspective, a revolution in the basis of the mind.
A breakthrough of insight into oneness sometimes occurs spontaneously to people who have never practiced meditation and may not even be particularly "spiritually" inclined. However, without some background in clarity, it is difficult to hold on to and integrate such an insight and the experience usually fades into a pleasant memory after a few moments, hours or days. Occasionally, such an unsought experience does work a permanent transformation, but, even then, without systematic practice it is difficult to realize its full implications in daily life.
Late in life, Saint Teresa de Avila came to an experience of God which was permanent and independent of trance. She called it spiritual marriage and says it was occasioned by an "intellectual vision." From her description, it seems similar to the initial breakthrough in Buddhism, though conceived of entirely in Christian terms, of course. Concerning this experience, she makes the remarkable statement, "There is a self-forgetfulness which is so complete that it really seems as though the soul no longer existed..."11 For another classical Christian source which clearly distinguishes "trance mysticism" and "insight mysticism", see "The Cloud of Unknowing" particularly chapter LXXI, which describes the fact "that some may feel the perfection of this work only in a time of ecstasy while others may feel it whenever they wish, in the common state of mans soul".
According to Buddhist concepts, at this first breakthrough, one realizes "no-self". But this expression, no-self, which Buddhists are so fond of, can be very misleading. At first blush, the idea seems uninviting if not positively absurd. It sounds like a negation of individuality, a frightening loss of controlling center, or a kind of deluded regression. But what is meant by no-self is becoming free from the perspective of "self as thing" (satkayadrishti). Conceptually this is not quite the same as losing self nor does it imply the absence of a "personality of self."
What is meant by "becoming free from a concept?" One is free from a particular thought or concept if that thought always arises without the slightest unconscious tension, repression or break in awareness of the thought as thought. Then one is experiencing the thought so fully that there is not time for the mind to tense and solidify the thought. And so the thought ceases to be in one's way. In other words, a thought, concept, mental image or memory has no hold over us if we always experience it totally (vipashyana) and yet remain relaxed (shamatha). This is no easy matter in any case. Initial enlightenment comes when we discover that it is possible to allow our deepest moment to moment image of "me and mine" to arise in this full, empty way. From then on, the distinction between self and other (or between enlightenment and nonenlightenment) loses its hold. This, of course, is but one of many ways of interpreting the experience.
Later tradition dilates upon the great merit and karmic resources necessary to achieve this. However, it should be strongly emphasized that, with skillful guidance, a person may well come to such an experience within a few years of highly motivated practice.
Most people, even after such a breakthrough, still find themselves becoming confused, doing wrong things, feeling bad, giving in to unwholesome habits, etc., though they are no longer constrained to identify with these negativities. So they continue to practice, even more assiduously than before, working to eliminate raga and dvesha, rooting out subtle remaining moha, eradicating the stubborn sway of old bad habits.
Along the way, as one moves closer and closer to complete Nirvana, there may come a point where priorities shift from "wisdom" to "compassion," i.e., from meditation to action12.
If you really feel oneness with everything, it is only natural to take responsibility for all your parts. Helpful words and actions begin to flow forth spontaneously.
Although in Mahayana, compassion (really love) is conceived of on a par with wisdom, in practice priority is usually initially placed on gaining liberation. Its just more efficient that way. Clearing away some moha first makes it less likely that one's efforts to help others will be misguided. Eliminating raga and dvesha makes it less likely that one's zeal will lead to aggressiveness and the sacrificing of principles for an end. Further, after one is free from the concepts of helper, helped and helping, there is less feeling of chagrin or loss of enthusiasm when one's efforts to help fail.
The specific direction which such activities take depends upon the culture, circumstances, abilities and personality of the individual. They range from wizardry to political activism.
To summarize what has been said so far, shamatha and vipashyana then are tools for attaining "enlightenment," insight into the nature of the sense of separate self. That perspective is a tool which, facilitates the achievement of complete Nirvana.
According to some Mahayana conceptualizations, Nirvana itself is a kind of tool, a tool which allows a person to effortlessly and efficaciously exert a beneficial influence on others. If you are completely free and if your influence is such that it helps a great many people to also become free (as did that of Sakyamuni), you are called a Buddha.
The following are a few specific techniques for developing the liberating awareness described above.
| Mindfulness Meditation | |
A common approach used in the Theravada tra
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