"Observing
reality as it is, without any preconceptions, in order to disintegrate
apparent truth and to reach ultimate truth—this is Vipassana. The
purpose of disintegrating apparent reality is to enable the meditator to
emerge from the illusion of ‘I’. This illusion is at the root of all
our craving and aversion, and leads to great suffering."
(Below is summary of Day 10 Dhamma Discourse of Principal teacher Sayagyi U S.N.Goenka, during the 10-day Vipassana Course
A video/audio discourse at 7.15 p.m follows each day of
the 10-day course, after 10 hours of meditation in the daily timetable
starting 4.30 a.m)
Ten days are over. Let us review what you have done during these ten days.
You
started your work by taking refuge in the Triple Gem, that is, in
Buddha, in Dhamma, in Sangha. By doing so you were not being converted
from one organized religion to another. In Vipassana, the conversion is
only from misery to happiness, from ignorance to wisdom, from bondage to
liberation.
The entire teaching is universal. You took refuge not in a
personality, dogma, or sect, but in the quality of enlightenment.
Someone who discovers the way to enlightenment is a Buddha. The way that
he finds is called the Dhamma. All who practise this way and reach the
stage of saintliness are called Sangha. Inspired by such persons, one
takes refuge in Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha in order to attain the same
goal of purity of mind. The refuge is actually in the universal quality
of enlightenment which one seeks to develop in oneself.
At
the same time, in any person who progresses on the path there will
arise a feeling of gratitude and also a volition to serve others without
expecting anything in return. These two qualities were notable in
Siddhattha Gotama, the historical Buddha. He had achieved enlightenment
entirely by his own efforts. Nevertheless, out of compassion for all
beings, he sought to teach the technique he had found to others.
The
same qualities will appear in all who practise the technique and who
eradicate, to some extent, the old habit of egotism. The real refuge,
the real protection, is the Dhamma that you develop in yourself.
However, along with the experience of Dhamma there is bound to grow a
feeling of gratitude to Gotama the Buddha for finding and teaching this
technique, and gratitude as well to those who selflessly strove to
maintain the teaching in its original purity through twenty-five
centuries to the present day.
With this understanding you took refuge in the Triple Gem.
Next
you took five precepts. This was not a rite or ritual. By taking these
precepts and following them you practised sila, morality, which is the
foundation of the technique. Without a strong foundation the entire
structure of meditation would be weak. Sila is also universal and
nonsectarian. You undertook to abstain from all actions, physical or
vocal, that would disturb the peace and harmony of others. One who
breaks these precepts must first develop great impurity in the mind,
destroying his own peace and harmony. From the mental level the impurity
develops and expresses itself vocally or physically. In Vipassana you
are trying to purify the mind so that it becomes really calm and
peaceful. You cannot work to purify the mind while you still continue to
perform actions that agitate and defile it.
But
how are you to break out of the vicious cycle in which the agitated
mind performs unwholesome actions that agitate it still further? A
Vipassana course gives you the opportunity. Because of the heavy
programme, the strict discipline, the vow of silence, and the strongly
supportive atmosphere, there is hardly any likelihood of your breaking
the five precepts. Thus during the ten days you are able to practise
sila, and with this base you can develop samadhi; and this in turn
becomes the base for insight, with which you can penetrate to the depths
of the mind and purify it.
During
the course you undertook to observe the five precepts in order to be
able to learn this technique. Having learned it, one who then decides to
accepts and practise Dhamma must observe the precepts throughout life.
Next
you surrendered to the Buddha and your present teacher for the ten days
of the course. This surrender was for the purpose of giving a fair
trial to the technique. Only someone who has surrendered in this way can
work putting forth full efforts. One who is full of doubts and
scepticism cannot work properly. However, surrendering does not mean
developing blind faith; that has nothing to do with Dhamma. If any doubt
arose in the mind, you were encouraged to come to the teacher as often
as necessary for clarification.
The
surrender was also to the discipline and timetable of the course. These
were designed, based on the experience of thousands of previous
students, to enable you to work continuously so as to derive the
greatest possible advantage from these ten days.
By
surrendering you undertook to work exactly as you were asked. Whatever
techniques you might have been practising previously you were asked to
lay aside for the period of the course. You could obtain the benefit and
judge the value of the technique only by practising it exclusively, in
the proper way. Mixing techniques, on the other hand, could have led you
into serious difficulties.
Then
you started your work by practising Anapana meditation [from Day 1 to Day 3] in order to
develop mastery of the mind, concentration—samadhi. You were told to
observe mere, natural breath without adding any word, shape, or form.
One reason for this restriction was to preserve the universality of the
technique: breath is common and acceptable to everyone, but a word or
form may be acceptable to some and not to others.
But
there is a more important reason for observing mere respiration. The
whole process is an exploration of the truth about oneself, about the
mental-physical structure as it is, not as you would like it to be. It
is an investigation of reality. You sit down and close your eyes. There
is no sound, no outside disturbance, no movement of the body. At that
moment the most prominent activity within yourself is respiration. You
begin by observing this reality: natural breath, as it enters and leaves
the nostrils. When you could not feel the breath, you were permitted to
breathe slightly hard, just to fix your attention in the area of the
nostrils, and then once again you came back to natural, normal, soft
breathing. You started with this gross, apparent truth, and from it you
moved further, deeper, in the direction of subtler truths, of ultimate
truth. On the entire path, at every step you remain with the truth that
you actually experience, from the grossest to the subtlest. You cannot
reach ultimate truth by starting with an imagination. You will only
become entangled in greater imaginations, self-deceptions.
If
you had added a word to the object of respiration, you might have
concentrated the mind more quickly, but there would have been a danger
in doing so. Every word has a particular vibration. By repeating a word
or phrase, one creates an artificial vibration in which one becomes
engulfed. At the surface level of the mind a layer of peace and harmony
is created, but in the depths impurities remain. The only way to get rid
of these deep-lying impurities is to learn how to observe them, how to
bring them to the surface so that they may pass away. If one observes
only a particular artificial vibration, one will not be able to observe
the various natural vibrations related to one’s impurities, that is, to
observe the sensations arising naturally within the body. Therefore, if
one’s purpose is to explore the reality of oneself and to purify the
mind, to use an imaginary word can create obstacles.
Similarly
visualization—mentally picturing a shape or form—can become a barrier
to progress. The technique leads to the dissolving of apparent truth in
order to reach ultimate truth. Apparent, integrated truth is always full
of illusions, because at this level sañña operates, perception, which
is distorted by past reactions. This conditioned perception
differentiates and discriminates, giving rise to preferences and
prejudices, to fresh reactions. But by disintegrating apparent reality,
one gradually comes to experience the ultimate reality of the
mental-physical-structure: nothing but vibrations arising and passing
away every moment. At this stage no differentiation is possible, and
therefore no preferences or prejudices can arise, no reactions. The
technique gradually weakens the conditioned sañña and hence weakens
reactions, leading to the stage in which perception and sensation cease,
that is, the experience of nibbana. But by deliberately giving
attention to a shape, form, or vision, one remains at the level of
apparent, composed reality and cannot advance beyond it. For this
reason, there should be neither visualization nor verbalization.
Having
concentrated the mind by observing natural breath, you started to practise Vipassana meditation [from Day 4 onwards] in order to develop pañña—wisdom, insight
into your own nature, which purifies the mind. From head to feet, you
began observing natural sensations within the body, starting on the
surface and then going deeper, learning to feel sensations outside,
inside, in every part of the body.
Observing
reality as it is, without any preconceptions, in order to disintegrate
apparent truth and to reach ultimate truth—this is Vipassana. The
purpose of disintegrating apparent reality is to enable the meditator to
emerge from the illusion of ‘I’. This illusion is at the root of all
our craving and aversion, and leads to great suffering. One may accept
intellectually that it is an illusion, but this acceptance is not enough
to end suffering. Regardless of religious or philosophical beliefs, one
remains miserable so long as the habit of egotism persists. In order to
break this habit one must experience directly the insubstantial nature
of the mental-physical phenomenon, changing constantly beyond one’s
control. This experience alone can dissolve egotism, leading to the way
out of craving and aversion, out of suffering.
The
technique therefore is the exploration, by direct experience, of the
real nature of the phenomenon that one calls ‘I, mine’. There are two
aspects of this phenomenon: physical and mental, body and mind. The
meditator begins by observing the reality of the body. To experience
this reality directly, one must feel the body, that is, must be aware of
sensations throughout the body. Thus observation of body—kayanupassana—necessarily involves observation of sensations—vedananupassana. Similarly one cannot experience the reality of the mind apart from what arises in the mind. Thus, observation of mind—cittanupassana—necessarily involves observation of the mental contents—dhammanupassana.
This
does not mean that one should observe individual thoughts. If you try
to do that, you will start rolling in the thoughts. You should simply
remain aware of the nature of the mind at this moment; whether craving,
aversion, ignorance, and agitation are present or not. And whatever
arises in the mind, The Buddha discovered, will be accompanied by a
physical sensation. Hence whether the meditator is exploring the mental
or the physical aspect of the phenomenon of ‘I’, awareness of sensation
is essential.
This discovery is the unique contribution of the Buddha, of central importance in his teaching. Before him in India and among his contemporaries, there were many who taught and practised sila and samadhi. Pañña
also existed, at least devotional or intellectual wisdom: it was
commonly accepted that mental defilements are the source of suffering,
that craving and aversion must be eliminated in order to purify the mind
and to attain liberation. The Buddha simply found the way to do it.
What
had been lacking was an understanding of the importance of sensation.
Then as now, it was generally thought that our reactions are to the
external objects of sense—vision, sound, odour, taste, touch, thoughts.
However, observation of the truth within reveals that between the object
and the reaction is a missing link: sensation. The contact of an object
with the corresponding sense door gives rise to sensation; the sañña
assigns a positive or negative valuation, in accordance with which the
sensation becomes pleasant or unpleasant, and one reacts with craving or
aversion. The process occurs so rapidly that conscious awareness of it
develops only after a reaction has been repeated many times and has
gathered dangerous strength sufficient to overpower the mind. To deal
with the reactions, one must become aware of them at the point where
they start; they start with sensation, and so one must be aware of
sensations. The discovery of this fact, unknown before him, enabled
Siddhattha Gotama to attain enlightenment, and this is why he always
stressed the importance of sensation. Sensation can lead to reactions of
craving and aversion and hence to suffering, but sensation can also
lead to wisdom with which one ceases reacting and starts to emerge from
suffering.
In
Vipassana, any practice that interferes with the awareness of sensation
is harmful, whether it is concentrating on a word or form, or giving
attention merely to physical movements of the body, or to thoughts
arising in the mind. You cannot eradicate suffering unless you go to its
source:bodily sensation.
The technique of Vipassana was explained by the Buddha in the Satipatthana Sutta,
the "Discourse on the Establishing of Awareness". This discourse is
divided into sections examining the various aspects of the technique;
observation of body, of sensations, of mind, and of the mental contents.
However, each division or subdivision of the discourse concludes with
the same words. There may be different points from which to begin the
practice, but no matter what the starting point, a meditator must pass
through certain stations, certain experiences on the path to the final
goal. These experiences, essential to the practice of Vipassana, are
described in the sentences repeated at the conclusion of each section.
The
first such station is that in which one experiences arising (samudaya)
and passing away (vaya) separately. At this stage the meditator is aware
of consolidated, integrated reality in the form of gross sensations
within the body. One is aware of a sensation, perhaps a pain, arising.
It seems to stay for some time and ultimately it passes away.
Going
further beyond this station, one penetrates to the stage of
samudaya-vaya, in which one experiences arising and passing away
simultaneously, without any interval between them. The gross,
consolidated sensations have dissolved into subtle vibrations, arising
and falling with great rapidity, and the solidity of the mental-physical
structure disappears. Solidified, intensified emotion and solidified,
intensified sensation both dissolve into nothing but vibration. This is
the stage of bhanga—dissolution—in which one experiences the ultimate
truth of mind and matter: constantly arising and passing away, without
any solidity.
This
bhanga is a very important station on the path, because only when one
experiences the dissolution of the mental-physical structure does
attachment to it go away. Then one becomes detached in the face of any
situation; that is, one enters the stage of sankhara-upekkha. Very deep lying impurities—sankhara—buried
in the unconscious now start appearing at the surface level of the
mind. This is not a regression; it is a progress, for unless they come
to the surface, the impurities cannot be eradicated. They arise, one
observes equanimously, and they pass away one after another. One uses
the gross, unpleasant sensations as tools with which to eradicate the
old stock of sankhara of aversion; one uses the subtle, pleasant sensations as tools with which to eradicate the old stock of sankhara
of craving.
Thus by maintaining awareness and equanimity towards every
experience, at the level of sensations, one purifies the mind of all the deep-lying complexes, and
approaches closer and closer to the goal of nibbana, of liberation.
Whatever the starting point, one must pass through all these stations in order to reach nibbana. How soon one may reach the goal depends on how much work one does, and how large an accumulation of past sankhara one has to eradicate.
In every case, however, in every situation, equanimity is essential, based on an awareness of sensations. Sankharas arise from the point of physical sensation. By remaining equanimous towards the sensation, you prevent a new sankhara
from arising, and you also eliminate the old ones. Thus by observing
sensations equanimously, you gradually progress towards the final goal
of liberation from suffering.
Work
seriously. Do not make a game of meditation, lightly trying one
technique after another without pursuing any. If you do so, you will
never advance beyond the initial steps of any technique, and therefore
you will never reach the goal. Certainly you may make trials of
different techniques in order to find one that suits you. You may also
give two or three trials to this technique, if needed. But do not waste
your entire life merely in giving trials. Once you find a technique to
be suitable, work at it seriously so that you may progress to the final
goal.
May suffering people everywhere find the way out of their misery.
May all beings be happy!
Practice of Mettā Bhāvanā, taught on Day 10 morning of the 10-day Vipassana course
"As we practice Vipassana, we become aware that the underlying reality of the world
and of ourselves consists of arising and passing away every moment. We
realize that the process of change continues without our control and
regardless of our wishes. Gradually we understand that any attachment to
what is ephemeral and insubstantial produces suffering for us. We learn
to be detached and to keep the balance of our minds in the face of any
experience. Then we begin to experience what real happiness is; not the
satisfaction of desire nor the forestalling of fears, but rather
liberation from the cycle of desire and fear. As inner serenity
develops, we clearly see how others are enmeshed in suffering, and
naturally this wish arises, 'May they find what we have found: the way
out of misery, the path of peace'. This is the proper volition for the
practice of
mettā-bhāvanā."
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