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Go Jhana, go! Go... Jhana B. Goode
Jan. 26th, 2010 01:53 pmI recently finished reading Ajahn Brahm’s book “Mindfulness, Bliss, and Beyond: A Meditator’s Handbook”. I’ve got a lot to say about it.
The book is intended to be an accessible description of the jhanas, the most advanced states of concentration practice that Buddhists cultivate.
The jhanas are also somewhat controversial. Since they involve complete dissociation with the senses, the physical body, and the concept of self, many folks question whether the jhanas are real. The center where I practice goes to some lengths to direct students away from this kind of intense concentration practice, known as samadhi. But at the same time, the jhana states are repeatedly and persistently emphasized as the path to awakening throughout the Buddhist suttas of the Pali canon, which is why I was interested in learning more about them.
One of the most rewarding aspects of the book for me is the run-up; Ajahn Brahm spends seven chapters describing the path of practice that leads to the jhanas in a very progressive, step-by-step way. It’s really the first time I’ve seen meditation described as a linear process, rather than a bunch of diverse but unrelated practices to use at your own discretion. It’s nice to see what steps occur in what sequence along the path of increasing insight and wisdom.
And he hits it all. There’s detailed descriptions of the five hindrances, the sixteen steps of mindfulness of breathing from the Anapanasati Sutta, the four foundations of mindfulness from the Satipatthana Sutta, the feelings tones (vedena), the cycle of dependent origination, and the techniques of walking practice, lovingkindness (metta), and open awareness. He doesn’t even shy away from providing a description of what enlightenment (nibbana) is like once you get there! And all of it is related to specific steps along a documented path of developing one’s practice.
Ajahn Brahm divides that path into seven major steps.
The first step is simply to focus on the present moment, letting go of all thoughts about the past and the future. Step two is silencing the mind, letting go of thinking and the perpetual inner dialog that most people live with. The third step is to narrow one’s attention to the breath, which means giving up the awareness of input from the physical body and the five senses.
The fourth step is simply sustaining that degree of attention on the breath for a long period of time. Gradually, the doer—the person who intervenes and causes action to occur—fades into the background, allowing the knower to come to the forefront. Rather than living in a state of reacting to stimuli or being on the verge of doing something, the practitioner rests in the state of simple awareness. These first four steps are the easiest ones, and what most meditators focus on. And that’s probably as far as most practitioners take their practice.
Step five is where concentration really takes hold, and things start getting a bit farther from our normal experience, as even the awareness of the breath itself disappears.
Step six is the manifestation of the nimitta, a vision usually described as an unstable mental image of light. It’s unstable because meditators usually respond to its manifestation with either fear or excitement, which destroy the stillness of the mind the nimitta occupies. Eventually, one can resist this inclination and manifest a stable vision. Ajahn Brahm describes the nimitta as a reflection of the knower, an image of the mind itself. This is the doorstep of the jhana states.
The jhanas are the final, seventh step. When one enters the jhanas, one is no longer letting go of some thing or any mental object, but of the person doing the thinking: the observer, the knower. The doer is completely gone. That eventually includes the dissolution of the ego and an accompanying loss of control, will, sense input, thought, decisionmaking, and time. The first-person perspective falls away in favor of a broader sense of unity.
Ajahn Brahm gives such central importance to the jhanas that he describes them as the true meaning of the final step in the Buddhist Eightfold Path: right mindfulness. He also cites an example of a man who, while in a jhana state, was so unresponsive that he was rushed to the hospital and evaluated as having no brain activity and no pulse until he came out of the meditation. See what I mean about things getting a bit esoteric?
It’s no coincidence that in each of those steps I describe the meditator as letting go of something. Ajahn Brahm asserts that the whole Buddhist path is one of renunciation, culminating in letting go of everything. That process begins with a simple practice of generosity, then giving up harmful actions and speech through the training precepts; relinquishing thought, the physical body, and the five senses; then finally banishing both the doer and the knower and any sense of a separate, eternal self.
As such, he describes the main barrier to enlightenment as attachment to the body, the five senses, one’s thoughts, and the will to act; in short, the doer and the knower. These are what block access to the jhanas. While it’s easy to believe one is free of those attachments, it’s not as easy as it sounds. Concentration practice—the jhana states—are there to get you close enough to see the ultimate reality, at which point insight practice is what brings the final understanding that there is no eternal self—nor any self at all as we conceive of it—and what the implications of that realization are.
So, as you can see, after humble, mundane beginnings, Ajahn Brahm does indeed get way out there. Yet his is the most down to earth explanation of jhana practice that I’ve come across. That doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, though.
Along the way, Ajahn Brahm drops some pretty good bombshells in his prose, too. He asserts that belief in rebirth is an absolute requirement. He believes that our actions are purely the result of the conditions that preceded them, and therefore there is no such thing as free will or choice. He asserts that one of the first experiences one has as a result of jhana practice is the ability to remember past lives. He says that celibacy comes naturally, as one gradually lets go of desire. He goes so far as to say that psychic powers often come with enlightenment. Although at the same time, he points out that it is against the Vinaya, the Buddhist monastic code, to claim any particular level of enlightenment to laypeople (and that it’s also against the rules for monks to run).
On the other hand, he also provides some great suggestions and observations, as well. These include:
- He advises against the common meditation practice of mental
noting of what is arising, because it puts one clearly in one’s
head and reinforces the knower.
- He warns about how easy it is to overestimate one’s
level of attainment along the path. Such overconfidence leads
to more difficulties down the road, and that focus on achievements
reinforces the very ego that one is trying to overcome.
- He suggests that one defer all judgment of a meditation until after
the meditation period, at which point it is wise to review the
session and examine what came up and what one can learn from
it.
- He stated that restlessness arises primarily
because one is not finding enough joy in the present moment. It’s
a way of avoiding being present, and his prescription is to find the joy
that is happening right now.
- Finally, he also suggests that meditators examine their state of mind at the start of a sitting. He indicates that advanced practitioners are perfectly wise in selecting the particular meditation technique that is best suited to address their present experience.
So in the end, I have mixed feelings about the book. The introductory chapters are incredibly useful in terms of revealing the progressive nature of practice, and relating all the individual techniques to one linear path. For that reason alone, I would suggest it to longtime meditators. But while I have great faith in Ajahn Brahm’s ability to represent the jhanic states as described in the Pali canon, I retain a healthy dose of skepticism, and I will continue to be challenged to believe and have confidence in all the aspects of jhana practice that he describes.
And I have one final thought to share. Although it wasn’t brought up by the book, I did experience one revelatory insight around the same time.
Typically, we are taught that an ethical way to live is to look at other people and realize that they are just like you, with the same kind of thoughts, emotions, hardships, and aspirations. That is, they’re not just animate objects you manipulate to obtain your desired outcomes. You are supposed to cultivate compassion and empathy by realizing that everyone else you meet is just as deep and genuine and vulnerable as you are. In short, they’re as “real” as you are.
But a Buddhist might say that’s the exact reverse of the truth. The reality is that you are just as shallow, surfacy, and impersonal as everyone else appears to be. You are just an automaton, responding mechanically or instinctually to the stimuli you encounter, even though you’re convinced you’re “real”. If you look at yourself in this way, I think you’ll be much closer to the Buddhist point of view than if you force yourself to see everyone else as deep and complex.
Interesting thoughts.
