Due to being conditioned by our surroundings or peers to believe that having an inquisitive mind or investigating things leads to better results, many meditators tend to overcomplicate their practice. There are two main reasons for this over-complication:
(a) they want the practice to be 'too personal'—my practice, my experience, my object—or in other words, they unnecessarily develop a sense of 'uniqueness' with an attached identity of 'self,' often unknowingly, and
(b) they think they are not doing enough.
So how do we combat the first problem: attachment towards a sense of 'uniqueness'?
A common problem that can be found among meditators is the desire and strong sense of 'uniqueness' regarding their practice. They want their practice to be as unique as possible: different from others, distinct in experience, unique in questions, ideas, and even in suffering. This mindset is one of the key issues that can lead to stagnation or even regression in practice.
All the innumerable Buddhas that have appeared taught only three main principles: to refrain from evil, to cultivate wholesome deeds, and to purify the mind. In order to purify the mind, we should not become too attached to our own ideas and desires—products of defilements—to the point where we no longer know what we are doing. One of the main reasons this occurs is because some are raised or conditioned with the belief that they are unique and must be unique, and this is a prevalent phenomenon. Having grown up with the idea of standing out from the crowd to remain competitive, this habit carries over into their meditation practice, and this is where problems begin.
The Buddha’s teachings on meditation, from samatha to vipassanā (and even supernormal powers), have already been laid out systematically and meticulously by His Great Wisdom. The chief disciples, great disciples, and the Saṅgha passed them down, generation by generation, to prevent them from being altered—this is the essence of Theravāda. Whatever the Buddha said, we must follow. Whatever is mentioned in the Tipitaka—the Sutta, Vinaya, and Abhidhamma—we must follow. Whatever is mentioned in the commentaries by the prominent disciples of the Buddha, who were Arahants, we must follow respectfully. Why? Because we do not have the ability, capability, or capacity to realise the Four Noble Truths on our own. Therefore, when it comes to following these guidelines laid out by the Buddha and his great disciples, it is important to adhere to them word for word, without personal interpretation. One frustrating tendency I have noticed in (some) Western meditators is their desire to make the practice 'personal'.
In the Mahasatipaṭṭhāna Sutta: "Ekāyano ayaṃ, bhikkhave, maggo sattānaṃ visuddhiyā, sokapariddavānaṃ samatikkamāya, dukkhadomanassānaṃ atthaṅgamāya, ñāyassa adhigamāya, nibbānassa sacchikiriyāya, yadidaṃ — cattāro satipaṭṭhānā." Translated into English, this means: "Monks, this is the one-way path for the purification of beings, for the overcoming of sorrow and lamentation, for the disappearance of pain and distress, for the attainment of the right method, and for the realisation of Nibbāna, that is to say, the four foundations of mindfulness."
The Buddha laid out the Noble Eightfold Path with his Omniscient Knowledge because he knew that this is the only way out of saṃsāra—the only way out of dukkha and toward the purification of the mind. Therefore, we must have complete faith in this ancient path, which was discovered through Omniscient Knowledge we will never possess (unless we aim to become a Buddha). We must not alter or retract aspects of the path, nor modify techniques simply because we find them difficult or because they don’t feel personal. There is only one way to realise Nibbāna, and if you cannot follow it, you are bound to experience more dukkha. The problem is not the technique or the meditation object—the problem lies within the mind. The more one follows the inclinations of an undisciplined and foolish mind, the more dukkha will arise.
There is a craving for uniqueness because people mistakenly believe that pursuing unwise actions will lead to sukha (bliss/pleasure). However, this is a misguided view, driven by 'moha' (delusion) or 'avijjā' (ignorance), which cause the mind to perceive what is wrong as right and what is right as wrong. Therefore, one must be very mindful not to fall into this fallacy perpetuated by ignorance.
Although every Buddhist understands the 'non-self' (anatta) nature of all realities, it is extremely difficult to truly develop the perception of non-self when one has not yet seen nāma-rūpa (mentality and materiality) in their ultimate form. The true wisdom that knows and realises anatta can only arise when one has seen nāma-rūpa and their respective causes. As a result, it is hard for most people to pay wise attention to the 'anatta' nature of realities, especially if they are still in the initial stages of concentration development. So, the second important point to be stressed here is the need to repeatedly reflect on the reality that there is no 'I,' 'self,' or 'mine'—only the five clinging aggregates. When one desires the practice to be personal or unique, there is a strong sense of 'self' involved. This craving for a unique experience is often so intense that one fails to recognise it. By consistently reflecting on the impermanence, suffering, and non-self nature of the five aggregates—and understanding that there is no such thing as 'I'—this defilement can be significantly reduced.
Thirdly, too much information is not always beneficial. Due to the ease of access to information from various sources, there is a mental tendency to crave new information in the hope that it will be helpful for the practice. While it is good to be discerning, one must also know their limits. When we practice, there needs to be a good balance between faith and discernment. Too little faith in the practice can lead to skepticism and result in a loss of concentration during meditation sessions. Therefore, one must be mindful to strike a balance between faith and wisdom.
Fourthly, do not 'baby' the mind too much or follow its defilements because the mind is consumed and submerged by defilements almost all the time and because of that, we still remain in saṃsāra. The fact that you are reading this indicates that you aim to be freed from the rounds of suffering and eventually attain Parinibbāna by realising all Four Path and Fruition Knowledge. Since the path toward the realisation of Nibbāna involves liberation from the intoxicants of the mind, it is essential to be very mindful and heedful in resisting the pull of defilements to avoid becoming entrapped in the cycle of saṃsāra once again. Thus, the key practice here is mindfulness: you must not coddle the mind excessively, but you should be gentle when necessary; you must not follow the defilements and must strive to cultivate wise attention at all times.
The fifth factor worth mentioning is the cultivation of the perception of impermanence (anicca-saññā). This sense of uniqueness is often tied to māna (superiority complex), a desire to feel superior or at least 'different'—even in terms of suffering. The Buddha taught that the perception of impermanence can dispel māna, so for those who frequently encounter this type of defilement, it is crucial to cultivate this perception.
Lastly, do not approach the practice aimed at Nibbāna with the intention of becoming 'whole' or 'unique.' If you do, you will never succeed. There is no 'you' or 'I'—only the five aggregates. It is also important to remember that the practice toward Nibbāna is centered on renunciation, not self-gratification.
So to combat this state of the mind, there are three habits you must cultivate:
Know the object: This means to simply recognise the object as it is. If you are practicing Ānāpāna, it means to know the breath. If you are practicing Kasiṇa, it means to know the kasina object. Focus on the object, and develop the intention to simply know it.
Be simple and honest: Do not investigate the object unnecessarily. Have faith in the object; know it as it is, regardless of how it manifests. Your job during meditation is simply to stay with the object. Lastly, understand that there is no room for fraudulence or deceit in the practice: do not lie to yourself.
Accept discomfort: The reason the mind often shifts between objects, concepts, analogies, and examples may be due to the fear of discomfort that arises with restlessness or the fear of staying with the object itself. It is your responsibility not to entertain this restlessness or add fuel to the fire by developing aversion toward it. Accept it, welcome it, and gently set it aside by nurturing a simple intention to stay with the object.
Don't worry: Worry can lead to doubt in your practice. Be patient with yourself, be patient with the object, and most importantly, be patient in the practice. Your task is to keep practicing so that favourable conditions align for fruitful results to arise at some point.
So how do we combat the second problem: the worry over not doing enough?
When it comes to both samatha and vipassanā practice, we need to cultivate two key qualities: "to know the object", and "to know what we're doing".
Knowing your object: This means to simply recognise the object as it is, without trying to shape it to fit your expectations.
Knowing what you're doing: This involves understanding and reflecting on moments of restlessness or distractions and at the end of your meditation, distinguishing what to do and what not to do. What to do is to stay with the object, and what not to do is to follow the distractions. If you find yourself following distractions, gently redirect your attention back to the object.
When the mind is unable to stay focused on a single object, many thoughts arise and if paired with lobha, māna (an inferiority complex) can occur and the feeling that one is not doing enough arises, subsequently resulting in kukkucca (remorse or worry). Because of the restlessness being "root" for this defilement to arise, the mind starts to jump from one thought to another, one object to another and so on to satisfy the 'craving' of doing enough.
To combat this, you need to ask yourself two things: 'Am I meditating diligently?', and 'Am I not meditating diligently?'
If you are meditating diligently, it is essential to practice patience and contentment. Patience is a crucial aspect of the practice, as it enables one to cultivate equanimity and accept things as they are, without interference. Consider a scenario where you are at a restaurant—not too hungry or too full—just waiting for your food to arrive. During that time, you neither rush for the food to come quickly nor feel averse to its arrival; your mind is simply ...okay..., waiting for the food to arrive whenever it is ready. Similarly, when practicing, one must cultivate contentment with the object as it is—not craving for the object to lead to concentration nor being averse to how it manifests. Instead, be open to the object as it is, allowing progress to unfold in its own time. When you can practice in this way, you cultivate patience, equanimity, and acceptance simultaneously. By doing this with each session, the knots of internal struggle will loosen, leading to greater peace in your practice. Lastly, reflect on the progress and changes no matter how small they are and rejoice on them as this can lead to development of further wholesome states, cultivation of muditā (altruistic joy) and motivation for practice.
If you are not meditating diligently, it is important to reflect on death and the preciousness of this life in practicing the Dhamma so as to a greater sense of urgency. If you find yourself neglecting your practice due to familial duties and responsibilities towards partners, parents, or children, try to incorporate the fulfilment of the ten paramīs into your daily life. This way, you can ensure that each moment for practicing Dhamma is not wasted.
What to ultimately realise:
We cannot cling to the object with the expectation that concentration will arise instantly, nor can we grasp at objects of vipassanā with the hope of achieving Path and Fruition immediately. This approach will never yield the desired outcome, as it is rooted in 'self' and 'māna,' manifesting as thoughts and beliefs like "I want this to be this way" or "I want this to happen now."
We cannot force a seed to sprout into a tree, we can only create and maintain conducive conditions for the seed to grow into a strong tree with care. Similarly, we cannot force our minds to attain jhāna or the Path; we can only cultivate the right conditions for these fruitful results to manifest in due time.
Understanding this, your responsibility is to practice diligently so that favorable conditions align for eventual fruitful results; when or how the outcome will occur is not your concern. Your focus should be on persevering. Additionally, throughout your journey, you must hold yourself accountable for your practice and actions, for ultimately, as the saying goes, 'attāhi attanō nātho'—the refuge lies within oneself. As the Buddha stated in AN 10.48: 'I am the owner of my actions, heir to my actions. Whatever actions I do, whether good or bad, I will be their heir.' Recognise that no one can walk this path for you; your success depends on how you walk it and the effort you commit.
May you all be simple.
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