Reflections on Right Concentration

Now that Hurricane Frances is finally kicking in, I finally found the time to read the following email today. It's actually a couple of days old, but well worth sharing:

From: John E.
Subject: Reflections on right concentration

Greetings all!

I have been so bold as to actually post something on the disciples discussion board at the ASZC interactive site - http://aszc.workports.com/aszc/DesktopDefault.aspx - so I thought I'd explain my motives. I began writing this piece - "refection on right concentration" - in an effort to sort thru my own experiences following the talk by Liz Hulsizer at the July sesshin, and it sort of grew into this article. I have gotten some feedback on my thoughts from my friend and fellow disciple Claire H., but thought I'd like to get further response from you, so asked Sensei about posting it. He seemed to think it was a good idea, so I tried it. The discussion board apparently is not intended for such long discussion, so I had to break the piece up into parts, but it's simple to navigate thro them using the arrows at the top, as I tried to explain in response frames.

I'd love to hear from you, either in response thru the message board or in direct e-mail comments! I'm also working on another piece, which is probably too long for the discussion board, based on my conversations with Sensei about the practice of teaching as Zen..."School is Zen". If anyone is interested in reading and commenting on this, I could e-mail it. I have been working toward this as a possible magazine article and eventual book which would be published to support Sensei's Matsuoka book project. I'd love to have comment and suggestions on it as well.

Gassho!
=Hoyama John E.


Reflections on Right Concentration

What is true practice?

Buddhist practices are many and varied. In Zen we consider sitting to be primary, but include walking and chanting as secondary practices, along with minor use of other practices, such as bowing. In other sects there is more emphasis on chanting and prostration. Mindfulness is much emphasized in the Theravada sects, and may be considered a separate practice, or may be seen as the aim or fruit of all the practices.

As I search for true practice for myself, I realize more and more that whatever my spiritual aspirations and personal practices may be, mindfulness in daily living is an essential aspect of the lived experience of Buddhism. It is the point where my personal spiritual practice touches the social realm, the world of others. In light of the Buddha's emphasis on compassion, how I live my life must be of concern. Although we avoid the gaining idea of practicing for self-improvement, if our practice is not making us better spouses, siblings, friends, co-workers, citizens, and world-dwellers, then something is probably wrong with the practice. If my hour of sitting is an hour of enlightenment, then my interaction with the others of the world will show it. If my morning vows are heartfelt and genuine, they will influence how I act as I go through my day.

So, it seems one measure of a true practice is that it would make things better for others as well as for me. Certainly it must be one that could be universally applied; i.e., it must be a practice which, if followed by all, would bring the social realm into greater harmony. Our practice is not about the kind of "living well" that seems to be the moral compass for most of those around us - a compass that points only to the good for me, regardless of the cost to others less fortunate, less aggressive, less cunning. As Buddhists, as humans, we must realize that there are no individual solutions.

As I look for teachings that will help me actualize my practice in daily life, things that will help me follow through on my morning vows to pursue compassion and put others before self, I find several sources that point to awareness of arising thought/emotions as primary - what Buddhists text translations usually refer to as "mental formations." As I understand the term, a mental formation is roughly what we might refer to as an emotion, and is probably best described as a thought that has feelings attached. You can think about your shopping list or what to wear to work today without too much emotional involvement, but many thoughts come with the extra baggage of anxiety or anticipation that connects them to a feeling state, essentially chemical responses of the body to expectations of pleasure or pain. These kinds of thoughts are what Buddhism refers to as "mental formations."

Mental formations are quite normal, natural and useful. In fact they could be regarded as just as essential to our survival as the higher intellectual processes. They are also what cause us most of our problems in dealing with other human beings. Thus, they become a focus of practice that will help us bring our practice and its aspirations into the flow of everyday life.

In a recent dharma talk, Buddhist teacher Liz Hulsizer, of A Single Thread Zen Center, spoke about Dogen Zenji’s teachings on Right Concentration. Dogen, she said, taught that Right Concentration is focusing without distraction on the teachings. If the slightest amount of like or dislike arises, Dogen says, one becomes unstable. The phrase "slightest amount of like or dislike" has stuck in my mind like a mantra, and as I go about my daily life it pops up with its remarkably clarifying perspective on mental formations: "If the slightest amount or like or dislike arises, I become unstable." There are worlds of wisdom in that deceptively simple statement.

Its depth and power become evident over time as I see its application to various situations that arise. For example: my wife asks what we want for lunch, offering the choice between a Caesar wrap and fruit with yogurt, and my daughter says, "I want a wrap." If my preference inclines me toward the fruit, the situation becomes unstable. If I can remember "the slightest amount of like or dislike," it helps me be aware of the dynamics of the situation. If I am attached to my preference for fruit - which means I allow it to influence my actions - I lose concentration on the teachings and become part of a conflict. If I can release my preference, the situation stays fluid and soft, and lunch goes smoothly.

Each time some situation arises and I view it from Dogen's perspective, I learn more of how my preferences make me likely to tip one way or another and unbalance things, increasing potential for conflict. Thus the principle of "the slightest like or dislike" illuminates both the personal and the social. Especially in more intense circumstances where issues of power and control come into play and the emotions are more powerful, the degree of awareness of one's own likes and dislikes can make the difference between war and peace. Let's look at how this works.

The process of this practice - for it can be seen as a practice in itself - is to be aware of each emotional attachment that arises, following the emotion as it develops, seeing clearly the preferences that form around it, the thoughts that begin to stream through the mind connected to the emotion, and then releasing that attachment, not allowing those emotions, preferences and thoughts to control our actions. A simple, but very dense, formulation. Let's break it down into steps.

First, I must notice that I am having an emotional response to something that is happening or something someone is saying. This noticing is often in the form of awareness of bodily changes: the breath, muscle tension, blood pressure, skin sensations and temperature. Then I must see the preferences, the "I like/don't like" behind the emotion, the selfish thoughts and wants that are making me feel upset, or perhaps just leading me to take a rigid position on something. If I can identify and label or categorize those preferences, and at the same time be aware of the physical manifestations in my body and focus on them, that will help me to uncouple from the emotions so they have no power over my actions, words, or direction of thought. Then I can allow those emotions to dissolve like whipped cream on hot coffee.

In the teachings of Ajahn Chah, this is made explicit: "Most people still don't know the essence of meditation practice," he says. "They think that walking meditation, sitting meditation, and listening to Dhamma talks are the practice. That's true, too, but these are only the outer forms of practice. The real practice takes place when the mind encounters a sense object. That's the place to practice, where sense contact occurs. When people say things we don't like, there is a resentment; if they say things we like, we experience pleasure. Now this is the place to practice. How are we going to practice with these things? This is the crucial point. If we just run around chasing after happiness and running away from suffering, we can practice until the day we die and never see the Dhamma. When pleasure and pain arise how are we going to use the Dhamma to be free of them? This is the point of practice" (from Food for the Heart, p. 53).

I don't think it can be made much clearer than that: practice with your likes and dislikes. Ajahn Chah further describes practice: "The practice of Dhamma isn't something you have to go running around for or exhaust yourself over. Just look at the feelings that arise in your mind. When the eye sees forms, ear hears sounds, nose smells odors, and so on, they all come to this one mind: the one who knows. Now when the mind perceives these things, what happens? If we like that object we experience pleasure; if we dislike it we experience displeasure. That's all there is to it."

His instructions as to how to think of these mental events are simple: "If we know the truth about them, we reflect, 'Oh there's nothing to this feeling of liking here.' It's just a feeling that arises and passes away. Dislike too is just a feeling that arises and passes away. Why make anything out of them?" In this way, he says, "you can practice the Dhamma every minute of the day."

The key to this practice, which is not so simple, is in Ajahn Chah's conditional: "If we know the truth about them." How do we come to know the truth about these feelings and thoughts, this mind? This is truly the heart of the Buddha's teachings, the "pure and spotless Dhamma-eye" of the Tathagata's first sermon: "Whatsoever is an arising thing, all that is a ceasing thing."

Though we may begin with an intellectual assent or some faith in the Buddha's words, it is in silent meditation that one may come to direct awareness of this truth. Being told that it is the truth is not sufficient for most of us. In silent meditation, we quiet the distracting activity of the mind long enough for insight into its essential nature to arise. From those insights, those "seeing directly" experiences, it becomes clear to us that all these feelings, and the mind that experiences them, are impermanent, transitory, and empty of independent existence. As Johanna Macy says, what the Buddha awoke to was pattica samupada, the dependent co-arising of all phenomena - oneness. When we awaken to that truth for ourselves, then our practice is to apply it consistently to every mental formation as it arises in the course of our daily lives.

Another Theravadan teaching, the Anapanasati - the ancient sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing - speaks of the practitioner observing thoughts and emotions, "clearly understanding his state, gone beyond all attachments and aversions to this life, with unwavering, steadfast, imperturbable meditative stability" as part of the process of coming to a perfect mindfulness which leads to "true understanding and complete liberation."

In his book on this sutra, Vietnamese Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh (whose sutra translations I have quoted above) writes, "As soon as any psychological phenomenon (a mental formation, cittasamskara) arises, we should breath in and out and identify it. As we continue to observe it, we can see its connection with the whole of our mind." He describes the mind as a "river of psychological phenomena," and suggests that identifying these phenomena as they arise is part of meditation practice. "Once our mind is able to identify what is happening, we will be able to see clearly our mental formation and make it calm. Just that will bring us peace, joy, and stillness."

We humans seem to feel that our preferences define us and give us our distinctive personality, so we often exaggerate them and propound them enthusiastically to others. Hanging out with high school and college students for any extended period of time will make this achingly clear. In truth, our preferences set us up for disappointment, frustration, and anger. Getting over them, getting beyond our "attachments and aversions" is liberating because we can then accept what is actually happening to us without such resistance to problems or such grasping of pleasure - or dangerous suppression of either.

This is the middle way of the Buddha. Right Concentration, true practice. In the long run, by whatever spiritual path we arrive at these truths, it is the only way to live our lives peacefully and happily. And a world of people living their lives in this way is likely the only way to universal peace and harmony.

- John E., Sept. 2004