I'm also not sure how I got to that profound comfort and breathing change (nor do i think i had any control on those two things from occurring.)
In my opinion, that's exactly right. The personality - that which has a strong sense of being in the driver's seat making stuff happen - just needs a simple job to do. It also needs to have conviction that the job is worthwhile. The only way I know that the personality, the sense of resident director (e.g., Katy, me) gets to sample not being in charge and being okay, is when this personality, this sense of resident director of the body and mind, gets a bit tired of itself.
Here's an exercise to see what am I, Katy, directing and what is happening without any director:
- I plan to get up and get some water. So I plan to:
1. sit up straighter
2. stop typing
3. get my mug
4. turn on the water
5. pour the water
6. turn off the water
7. drink the water
8. put the mug down
9. return to the table
10. type out what actually happened
Okay. Here I go...
And I am back. Some things that happened without my direction. I see now it would be silly to write down several things that happened without my diction, but one unplanned novelty was the way I drank the water: The lips made all these little decisions on their own so that there would be no dribbling. The eyes took in a few unrelated things besides the water spout. The shoulders dropped.
So, there's a lot going on by itself. I am sure you know that. And yes, there's a lot of proper volition going on to: a girl's gotta stay hydrated, have some water now and then.
So what is happening in training the mind for meditation is not so much about making anything happen, it's gently bringing the mind in from wandering - in thoughts, feelings, ambitions, boredom - to an object.
It is not for everyone all the time.
Whatever object you admire and relax with can be a suitable object of meditation. I found myself regularly looking at light on water for several months. Moonlight on water. Sunset on water. This was great mental loosening. Then my mind did the same thing with listening to people as it did with watching light on water. Certainly not 100% of the time. But that's when my mind learned, "Hey, focusing on something that I naturally like and which is relaxing, sedates the provokable aspect of mind (strong thoughts and feelings) and lets other aspects of mind show themselves in greater relief.
It is like the topography of mind changes: first the
saṅkhāra faculty of mind is so dominant, a mountain range of volition. When the mountain range settles down it becomes a prairie, and now maybe the other aspects of the mental faculty come up: basic perception: ah, the noon bell is ringing in the tower; then that aspect may call and now there are just sensations coming in through the sense doors, but with the perception faculty subdued, who is there to name them: smell or taste? Feeling or sound? etc.
It is not a decision not to recognize the senses, the mind just enters that skhanda and in a few months the other aspect of mind, says, "Hey, wait, we call that sensation "smelling". And then the skhanda of volition (sankhara) comes up and says maybe, "Hey. cool. Who knew we could have senses without me there saying, 'now smell the wiff of cut grass in the air.' "...
wanted to start out little by little.
Excellent. It is minute by minute, with sincere focus. It is often reported, that mid-stream somebody had a big mental release. Sometimes it's in a breath, some people go into a yoga pose as one person and come out deeply changed - just one moment of focus. The mind was ready at some point to loosen some brain sphincter.
Story or "memory" is coming up and it may have actually nothing to do with luminosity coming through, but those memories don't typically come up for me often, so when they do, its kind of an indicator that somethings going on whether there is a making room process or what.
Okay, yes. I think that is related, like a napkin flying out of a car window. Sometimes the mind becomes quite clear about a memory, as if there. I remembered my middle school locker last year, very detailed. It was weird, like standing there again, knowing the feelings again. It was a little heavy for such a bland moment. There was equanimity knowing the weight of individuated feelings. Like the interesting light displays, I let my natural attraction to the memory occur and as that attraction grew in "wanting more" the concentration was already uprooted. That's natural and ok.
When concentration is uprooted the body may start to ache or just have the impulse to stop meditating. That's okay: can't sit around all day. "Wanting more" breaks the concentration; steady concentration depends on equanimity. To deprive oneself of a nice immersion into the meditative display (memory, lights, etc) can build up a tightness around "attainment", e.g., "must attain. Must focus. Avoid that stuff." That approach, I think, builds deprivation and is counterproductive.
This is why meditation can seem to take a long time and teachers want students to practice regularly, early a.m. and before bed. The mind needs time to taste, to have, then to naturally release objects of mind without a sense of deprivation. It is just like a young kid who is asked to pick which toys to keep. If it's possible, a lot of moms and dads just wait a few months or another year: the child will naturally let a toy go after it matures past it.
I just wonder why it "seems" to be difficult to get to such a natural state of mind. IF this is part of a minds natural state, it should be able to jump to it without trouble? Or has fetters clouded it so much?
This is the volitional aspect of mind that is lucky to have led a life in which it learned, "if I want it, I can make it happen." Now, for concentration, it must learn to just do something very simple and contentedly so.
Concentration is like all the
skhandas are getting tuned like a guitar. Let's say volition (saṅkhāra) is the E-string and perception (saññā, recognition) is the A-string: the E-string and the A-string have been played so long in great dominance. It's part of our social species to develop perception and volition aligned with our community. That is the safe thing to do.
But using two skhandas in such dominance also becomes like a repetitive stress disorder: carpal tunnel of the saṅkhāra and saññā. So people learn about meditation and say I''ll try that to de-stress. Really, we can go gardening, sitting on a bench, for a mountain walk, a dog walk, a quiet walk with a friend, and just practice, say letting the skandha of vedanā and the sense-doors lead. The volitional skhanda saṅkhāra has a very small job to do if I am walking in a familiar area; now vedanā can show pleasantness and even the recognition faculty vedanā that knows "breeze", "sunlight", "walking" can start to quieten. Naming can naturally stop.
Now meditation is asking that the mind get to show the other three strings: rūpa, vedanā, and viññāṇa. They are always there, but it's really hard to know them in the constant loud playing of perception and volition.
So it's important to find some space in which one is basically pleasant and relaxed. For me that was sitting by the water often at sunset and waiting up to watch moonlight on water. I also sit by the windows often and just enjoy a tree and sky. This already "loads" my body with some piti, some joy. It took me 4-6 weeks of this sincere pratice (I
knew I needed it] and then jhana arrived --- absolutely not from the volitional aspect of mind, not from me. From letting the volitional aspect placate, and letting the vedana and rupa aspects show themselves. Viññāṇa showed up on its own, so nature and everything started to seem crisp and bright and wonderful. I was incredibly fortunate to have a safe, pleasant environment in which to practice.
Should I at this point relax into that stuff and just watch to surrender to those thoughts. Or should I try to the best of my ability use them to observe their nature more closely. Only thing about that part is some pretty heavy emotion is carried in with those thoughts which is rather unpleasant. (I know, no one said it would be easy lol)
I think there's a very common issue of things getting a little tight as practice goes on without a clear release. What do you think of the above, about balancing the skhandas, enjoying the senses, delighting in them at a form-sensation level for a while? This means you may choose to abandon blogging for a while (again, it's a natural decision, not a force--somedays just are away from the computer, some days back at it reporting experience and mentation).
There's a real lingering note after playing the sankhara skhanda, just like carpal tunnal can ache during sleep. For people who've done well in life with intellect, it can take a while of letting that go and just delighting in the senses. When "delight" seems a little contrived, it is. But one is focusing the skhanda of sankhara to do one job: not conceive, not elaborate just focus on mild delight of the contact between sense-object and sense-door: Housemate's voice:: my ears = pleasant. Pleasant. Listening, pleasant. Seeing, pleasant.
Also, some excellent elaboration can happen when one focuses on the senses. (It is like those memories coming up: suddenly some "great ideas" happen, and some old fluff, too). So I am basically saying: one also can become too tight around sensate delight and too strictly reject the intellect. If a great urge to express and write comes, one can go for it! It's a totally dynamic process (and it can be so on the cushion, but this often feels deprived and too strict at phases) .[edit: correcting typos, re-formatting to aerate some dense paragraphs]
[edit: more words. yay.]