You know how a book can sit on your bookshelf for years, and suddenly you notice it like for the first time? That just happened with me and "Vipassana Meditation: as taught by S.N. Goenka", the very first book on the subject I ever read.
Six years ago, it kick started my lifelong interest in all things contemplative, giving me for the first time, an actual set of tools to dig deeper on my inquiry into the nature of things.
Through studying that book, and putting into practice its methodology, I learned how to follow my breath into my body and experience the sensations there on an increasingly subtle level, eventually beginning to recognize the emptiness of our seemingly concrete bodies, a space filled only by vibrations, made up of the continual rising and dissolution of experience within ourselves.
That was a nice start, and gave me a little bit of perspective. Stuff like not freaking out so much when I'm in pain. A couple of years after beginning Vipassana, late one night I got a splinter in my eye. I was alone, with no friends to call on, and no doctor I could get to, just me and the excruciating pain.
Remembering the practice, I decided to lie there in the dark, and focus on the sensation of the pain. When I did, it almost immediately became manageable. True, it still hurt like hell, but what happened is the conditioning in my mind, related to the experience of pain, began to fall away.
I discovered for myself the basic truth that my mind embellished the experience with its own level of imagination, i.e. karma 101. This helped me to cut through the amplified mental reaction, and experience the pain for what it really was, a signal to focus and send healing to the place that hurts.
Instead of pushing away the pain, I tried to embrace it and enter into the experience. As S.N. Goenka says, "once we start to investigate our true nature, the running away must stop. We must change the mental habit pattern and learn to remain with reality."
A specific practice that helps to focus the mind, so that it is not led away on the wild horses of the imagination, is known as samatha (Pali / Sanskrit), or zhiné (Tibetan). The term means "calm abiding", and the exercises teach you to concentrate and focus your mind.
The first level of calm abiding practice is to sit in the meditation posture and stare at an object. Whenever the attention wanders, which it does continually, bring it back to the object. I use the flame of a votive candle, or sometimes even the plumes of smoke from a cup of hot tea. Truly, anything you can look at without attachment will work.
In other words, images or objects that evoke strong reactions are probably not good candidates for developing zhiné. This beginning practice is known as "forceful" zhiné, because it requires effort to bring the mind back to the object.
Eventually you will get to the next level of practice, where your attention is focused in a more diffused manner, without the aid of an object. This is known in Tibetan practice as "natural" zhiné. But, I get ahead of myself.
Last night, I woke up midway through the night, and my mind almost immediately became filled with a jumble of thoughts, racing in all directions. At moments like that, I wonder what benefit these practices bring to me. But, just as quickly, I began to ride the thoughts, experiencing them as vibration, noticing them rise and fall, and see them for the immaterial phantoms they really are. That helped me to calm down, and eventually, fall back to a dream filled sleep.
And this is the end game of the whole practice, learning to recognize the impermanence and interconnectedness of all of our experiences, and to relax into that base of pure non-dual awareness which is always there, our true nature, or rigpa (Tibetan).
That sounds good to me, especially the part about cutting through the mental conditioning and reactions. I'm gonna keep on trying it: zhiné, for the win!
Six years ago, it kick started my lifelong interest in all things contemplative, giving me for the first time, an actual set of tools to dig deeper on my inquiry into the nature of things.
Through studying that book, and putting into practice its methodology, I learned how to follow my breath into my body and experience the sensations there on an increasingly subtle level, eventually beginning to recognize the emptiness of our seemingly concrete bodies, a space filled only by vibrations, made up of the continual rising and dissolution of experience within ourselves.
That was a nice start, and gave me a little bit of perspective. Stuff like not freaking out so much when I'm in pain. A couple of years after beginning Vipassana, late one night I got a splinter in my eye. I was alone, with no friends to call on, and no doctor I could get to, just me and the excruciating pain.
Remembering the practice, I decided to lie there in the dark, and focus on the sensation of the pain. When I did, it almost immediately became manageable. True, it still hurt like hell, but what happened is the conditioning in my mind, related to the experience of pain, began to fall away.
I discovered for myself the basic truth that my mind embellished the experience with its own level of imagination, i.e. karma 101. This helped me to cut through the amplified mental reaction, and experience the pain for what it really was, a signal to focus and send healing to the place that hurts.
Instead of pushing away the pain, I tried to embrace it and enter into the experience. As S.N. Goenka says, "once we start to investigate our true nature, the running away must stop. We must change the mental habit pattern and learn to remain with reality."
A specific practice that helps to focus the mind, so that it is not led away on the wild horses of the imagination, is known as samatha (Pali / Sanskrit), or zhiné (Tibetan). The term means "calm abiding", and the exercises teach you to concentrate and focus your mind.
The first level of calm abiding practice is to sit in the meditation posture and stare at an object. Whenever the attention wanders, which it does continually, bring it back to the object. I use the flame of a votive candle, or sometimes even the plumes of smoke from a cup of hot tea. Truly, anything you can look at without attachment will work.
In other words, images or objects that evoke strong reactions are probably not good candidates for developing zhiné. This beginning practice is known as "forceful" zhiné, because it requires effort to bring the mind back to the object.
Eventually you will get to the next level of practice, where your attention is focused in a more diffused manner, without the aid of an object. This is known in Tibetan practice as "natural" zhiné. But, I get ahead of myself.
Last night, I woke up midway through the night, and my mind almost immediately became filled with a jumble of thoughts, racing in all directions. At moments like that, I wonder what benefit these practices bring to me. But, just as quickly, I began to ride the thoughts, experiencing them as vibration, noticing them rise and fall, and see them for the immaterial phantoms they really are. That helped me to calm down, and eventually, fall back to a dream filled sleep.
And this is the end game of the whole practice, learning to recognize the impermanence and interconnectedness of all of our experiences, and to relax into that base of pure non-dual awareness which is always there, our true nature, or rigpa (Tibetan).
That sounds good to me, especially the part about cutting through the mental conditioning and reactions. I'm gonna keep on trying it: zhiné, for the win!
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