Is this truly a quest for truth? Ven. Aluthgamgoda Gnanaweera Thero

Is this truly a quest for truth? Ven. Aluthgamgoda Gnanaweera Thero | Nihada Arana

We have two written questions then.

Let's discuss those two.

Devotee: Permission, Venerable Sir. I always understood that the first, second, third, and fourth Jhanas arise during seated meditation and similar practices. However, during your discourse the other night, it became clear to me that it's as if one remains in those Jhanas throughout the day. Venerable Sir explains the manner in which one progresses to Jhanas during seated meditation. Is this something that then persists throughout the day? I respectfully request a clarification on this.

Ven. Thero: This is how it is. Now, even though we explain it by taking those words, don't get too caught up in thinking, "I'm in Jhana one, I'm in Jhana two," or similar. If you do, you're just adding unnecessary complexity. "Oh no, I fell from Jhana two." That kind of thinking. Then, again, it feels like it might just damage the simplicity inherent in meditation.

There's a certain effortless quality in meditation, isn't there? It's very simple, very... almost like a smooth, flowing "vibe mode."

That's the problem that arises when you take suttas and try to analyze them. After taking the suttas and understanding that meditation through them, people quickly start searching: "Is this Samatha? Is this Vipassana? I'm thinking, 'there aren't such things'."

The mind gets agitated. Because as soon as you take something to explain it as "one, two, three, four, five," we start thinking there's a "one," there's a "two." Then the convention becomes a truth. That's the core of it. That's the most dangerous aspect of the suttas. As soon as you grasp that, consciousness within us, in a terrible way, quickly re-establishes a "one, two, three" as in "I'm supposed to be in Jhana two now, I was in three." And then there's a tendency to grasp and cling to that. There's a tendency to grasp and cling to that. So, because of that, just a little...

Just like the other day, I heard someone asking, "Is this Samatha Vipassana you're talking about?" I told them, "I don't understand those things." If you cling to something and feel the need to find out, "Is this Samatha?" or "Is this Vipassana?", that's what's called madness. The book becomes primary. The point of the book is to discuss and understand this experience, not to have the mind immediately try to categorize it: "Okay, we are Vipassana cultivators now. We are Samatha cultivators now." Or "I am a person in such-and-such a Jhana."

As soon as we look at it that way, we don't understand. Then next comes comparison. Then our mind starts comparing us. "I've been in Jhana two. Oh, that person has been in three. This one in four." So, the 'self' (mamaya) gets caught. The 'self' gains stability. Because what we want is to inflate this 'self', isn't it?

That is, what we want is... we come and sit here, and even though it's "you and I," what we truly want underneath is to find something to grasp onto from these retreats, from this monastic life, from this meditation life, to feel like "something has been gained," "something has been created." If you feel you have grasped something, understand that what you have definitely grasped is suffering (vedana). If what you have grasped is a grasping, then understand that it is (just) a certain Jhana, a certain Samatha, or a certain Vipassana.

Even though we don't realize it, where we've grasped onto something, that's suffering that's clung to. It's because of suffering that we crave. It's because of suffering that we say, "I am in such-and-such Jhana, I am in such-and-such Jhanic experience." This is a tendency to grasp suffering, a tendency to cling to suffering.

So, that's why, even though we use this language, even though we take these suttas and discuss them, I'm saying, don't get caught up in it. We use language because we need to describe something. But as soon as it comes to language, the whole thing gets complicated. There's a tendency for it to establish a certain stability, a permanence, when we bring the Dhamma into language, presenting it as a definite 'thing'. That's why I don't understand it; it's the mind. Because as soon as we hear it in language, we feel like we've found a place to firmly establish ourselves, like "Okay, I've achieved that state," or "I'm experiencing such and such a thing."

So, on this journey, that's what we need to be careful of. That's why, for me, I don't understand any such talks. I don't understand them in terms of experience. When one is in the experience, these conventional talks don't make sense. Vipassana talks don't make sense. There's no understanding of "one, two, three, four." One should simply go with that very simplicity. That very simplicity is the path here, the fact that there is no path is the path.

Otherwise, without our knowing, we become conceited. Without our knowing, we start comparing impermanent phenomena. And we try to attain something. We try to reach something. That's when the 'self' (mamaya) immediately gets a foothold there. Why does the 'self' get it now? Because up until now, the 'self' was just aimlessly wandering, seemingly without purpose. Now, "Oh my God, here in this sutta, here's the stuff! There's one, two, three, four!" When I hear these things, the 'self' that was previously idle and without anything to grasp onto, the 'self' that was 'dying' (metaphorically, meaning struggling or lost) – that 'self' gets a treat, like candy. "Ah, now I know where I was! Now I'm sure I was in Jhana four or five!"

That's why I'm repeating this again and again: you have to be careful about all of that. It's fine to learn that sutta. I'm not saying that those discourses are false. But we take it in a way that fertilizes the 'self'. It's as if the 'self' has gained some status. As if I've reached some particular place. If you think you've "received something," or "gained something," that is the 'self'. That is suffering.

Because even mindfulness (sati), if grasped, is suffering. Even mindfulness, if grasped with a sense of 'self', is exertion. Then, you cling to it. That's why, when there's no ground to establish even a 'present moment', or 'mindfulness', or 'concentration (samadhi)' in a place of impermanence, in a flow, in a moment – as soon as you establish a 'moment', or a 'Jhana', or 'such and such a thing', it's over. There is instability, there is impermanence, there is flow.

In such a place, you're trying to gain stability. You're trying to establish a stable nature. That's the clinging, that's the fear and craving seeking some kind of existence. That's what I was discussing with someone last night too: most of the time, what I understand is that people aren't really trying to find the truth. They're trying to come here and gain something.

Now, if we were to say, run an advertisement, "If you do this, your third eye will open. You will connect with universal energy. Or the law of attraction will draw things to you, just watch." If you put out videos like that, people will really start getting attracted to it. That's how it is. It means our mind is so greedy to attain some state, to gain something: power, attention.

So, imagine, there's such a greedy mind, a preta-like mind, a mind that wants to grab any piece it can, inside us. That's the 'self' (mamaya) trying to raise its head from somewhere. Trying to lift its horns, trying to lift its two horns. To be "someone who has achieved," to be "someone who has achieved." That, then, is the nature of craving (tanhā) and ignorance (avijjā). Craving and ignorance are not a fault of the individual. These two, craving and ignorance, always work to make one smart. They don't want to be ordinary. They don't want to be a grain of sand among sand grains. They want to be a gem among sand grains.

So, finally, we have even used this Dhamma, this meditation, in an un-noble way, to heal some inferiority complex we had since childhood. Maybe we were ostracized at school, or perhaps we didn't get very good marks in class. Something happened, and we weren't able to reach the high place we wanted to go. Meditation becomes a way to fill this inferiority complex, this pain. Now, if you really look closely at this lie, you'll understand.

Look at many bodybuilders, for example; ask them their stories. Often, those who were marginalized as children, now they do bodybuilding, and they inflate their bodies and do this, as if to say, "Look at me! Just look at me, you! Look at my nature too!" That inferiority complex in the unconscious mind — it means they lack confidence in their unconscious mind. They lack awareness. Because they lack confidence in their unconscious mind, they don't understand where this urge to become a bodybuilder comes from. "Where does this drive to become a bodybuilder come from for me?" When you note this, you'll understand. Even a politician, ask them. In every instance, they've been made to feel like a "small person" at some point, and that pain of inferiority is sometimes what drives them. Haven't you heard some very successful people say, "I succeeded today because when I was little, our relatives didn't even buy us a book. They didn't teach us English. They put us down, saying, 'You can't do these things, you don't need to learn these things.'" Then, you see, it was born out of hatred. That's what they took with them. "I made a determination that day, and I will show them," they say in interviews, "and I learned English to a level where I could teach it to a native English speaker." "It was that very 'I can't' that they imposed on me that drove me to the top today." So, the anger that came when they were told "you can't" is what ultimately provided the motivation.

See, to drive them forward. It's like that. Sometimes, even though we say it, what has taken us to a higher place is an incident from our past where our unconscious mind, where we ourselves, were put down.

That pain that came from being put down, that anger, that feeling of inferiority from being made to feel small, that very inferiority makes us read countless books and then say, "Look, I know such-and-such suttas! Look, I've got it!" And then they write endlessly on Facebook. They don't even know why they're writing so much.

If they were writing knowing why they write, it would be fine. But it's a question whether there's truly so much to write about in this. As meditation progresses and deepens, there are fewer words and phrases. It's like in Zen, isn't it? In Zen, it's not about words, just simple... like there's a story: a teacher asks his student, "What did you learn from me on this path?" The student picks up a saucer that was there and removes it. The teacher asks, "How much?" The student then brings the saucer back closer. "Ah, then you are the next teacher," the teacher blesses him. It's right, it's straight to the point. The whole story. As the meditation experience deepens, you see how much was learned just by removing the saucer. Then, how much was learned when the saucer was brought back closer. See, the message in that, how many thousands of pages would you need to write that story? He just removed a small saucer. Then he brought the saucer back closer. That's all. The teacher said, "Right. You have learned something. I appoint you as the next teacher."

Right. As one progresses further and further in meditation, this talk of "where am I?", "what have I gained?" doesn't come. "What have I achieved? Am I in Samatha? Am I in Vipassana? Am I in Jhana?" None of that. It becomes very simple. And gradually, their language becomes very short and sweet – meaning they only speak to the point. What needs to be said to the point is said, and that's it. It doesn't go further than that. Just a few words. Whether they're talking about something or doing something, they speak to the point. They do what's necessary. That's all.

They attain such a state, such a mood internally. Then there's nothing to prove either. That's why I say, you need to look carefully. Sometimes, it's some unresolved issues in our unconscious mind – "I missed out," "I didn't get it." Look, some people chase after love with a kind of madness. If you ask them, their unconscious mind holds that "I grew up without a father; I didn't receive a father's love." Or, "My family didn't raise me like that at home." It's that inferiority complex in the unconscious, "I didn't receive enough love," that makes them seek so much love and suffer so much. That's why I said sometimes we don't understand what force is truly driving us. Sometimes what motivates us for this spiritual path might be an unconscious inferiority complex.

It's like thinking that becoming "someone" is the easiest path. The easiest path to becoming a special person is like politics or becoming a religious leader. The mind can be shown it, but it's not easy. You only understand once you get involved. You realize the hardship involved. From the outside, it looks easy to be a politician, but it's not as easy as we think. The suffering you have to endure is immense, even though from the outside, it seems like they have more power.

It also looks like religious leaders receive a lot of respect. So, we immediately tend to choose that path. You need to carefully observe what force is driving you towards such a narrative. Is it true spirituality that I want? So, am I truly on a quest for truth? Or is it perhaps something in my unconscious mind, gaining some status and then trying to manifest through that status? Am I trying to be smart by gaining some status? Is this 'self' (mamaya) trying to become like a superhero, like Spider-Man, Superman, Night Riders, Robin Hood, that we saw in our childhood?

Is this a kind of super-mentality that we've absorbed? These things are unconsciously instilled in us through cartoons, through TV dramas, they put these role models into our heads. "This person is a complete royal model, even though he's from a royal family, he gave it all up." Or, like Princess Diana, "Even though she was from royalty, she thought about the people." It's like that. Those characters are made to seem so special in our minds, like superheroes, like Spider-Man. They don't even exist! Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest, that was in England, right? But it was just a place where they shot the movie. So, these things have truly seeped into our unconscious to that extent. Without our knowing, this super-mentality sometimes leads us to even seek Buddhahood, not truly for liberation, but after hearing about the energy, the powers, the light emanating from Buddhahood, we're not sure if we're trying to achieve that radiance. That's the attempt we're making inside.

That is, the truth... well, it doesn't matter. It's valuable that we've come this far. But after that, we need to understand a little about our unconscious mind: Is my original mind a mind that seeks gain, honor, fame, and praise? Is it a mind that grasps out of some greed? Or have I come here to let go of what I already have? To let go of even the little I'm holding onto?

So, on a journey meant for letting go, Jhanas one, two, three are not useful, are they? Being in one, being in two, being in three, being in four, being in five – there's no need for such talk. If, on this journey of letting go, we realize that things we were holding onto are falling away, that's enough. That's all. It doesn't matter if it's Samatha. It doesn't matter if it's Vipassana. Otherwise, we'll just complicate our minds further by coming on this spiritual journey to gain something.

Then it's, "Oh, I don't know if I'm still in Samatha." Because Vipassana is often glorified a bit. Then it's, "Oh no, okay, we're the Vipassana crowd, that's always over there, inside that thing." That's why I say, meditation is the best thing. Meditation should be made very simple. It's not about gaining something. The true story is that day by day, what we held onto completely falls away. If you were holding onto anything, those things too, through this practice, start becoming tiresome and begin to leave. If you formed any aspirations, those targets also become tiresome. Even the goals become tiresome. Finally, even the people around us become tiresome. Now, if you're holding onto whatever little you have, what you had will fall away, and you'll have nothing to show your relatives back home. We want to show our relatives how we let go and succeeded in the world.

There's nothing to show your relatives. If they truly ask, "What do you have to take away from coming here now?" If we had something to take, if we were holding onto something, thinking "I know, I know," that too would be revealed as false. If I was going around proclaiming "This is spiritual!" while outside, that too would turn out to be a lie, that's all. It was just an illusion I had conjured up. Just some more fantasies I was holding onto.

The Emptiness of Attainment

At that point, a small question arises for us: "What can we show our people now that we've come back? What have I gained?" But even the thoughts we had about what we gained simply disintegrated like a shockwave. The sense of ownership we had imagined, like a receipt, those experiences are not even found after this.

So, I brought up these points to remind you, because we always need to look at that original mind. Otherwise, if I don't know this spiritual journey, then we shouldn't just look at it like, "I've come to Sri Pada mountain, am I really going straight to the peak, or am I just wandering around the forest?" You have to look at that too. The original mind: if we set out to climb Sri Pada and end up wandering lost in the forest, there's no point, is there?

The Path of Mindfulness and Jhana

Ven. Thero: "Am I going correctly on this journey that I came on?" That's what we keep reiterating, that there's no hurried inquiry into the path. We just contemplate and reflect as we go on that journey. Otherwise, am I truly going in the direction I set out for, or am I getting lost on side roads? Am I getting lost as I go? So, you need to look at that too. Look up and see, "Am I on the right track, or are my footprints straying left and right?"

So, regarding that initial part of the letter, that's why I felt that there was a subtle attempt by the 'self' to come alive again with a small thought like, "Ah, I'm in such-and-such a place." I saw a little of that tendency, and that's why I mentioned those points during that report. It's a slight tendency for the person to go towards gaining something again.

The next point is the other thing that was asked in the next part. Could you please read that again? Then we can delve a bit more into those questions.

Devotee: "Venerable Sir explains the manner in which one progresses to Jhanas during seated meditation. Is this something that then persists throughout the day? I respectfully request a clarification on this."

Ven. Thero: Yes, we need to understand this point: when you say it persists throughout the day, let me give you an example. When you initially practice mindfulness (sati), when we first practice it, it's like I've already explained it using an analogy of an old five-cell torch. With those old five-cell torches, when you turn the beam to one side, the light narrows, doesn't it? When the light narrows like that, it becomes like a laser, you can focus it on one spot. So, when the light is narrowed, it becomes like a laser beam. You must have seen lasers, or maybe the old torches; I don't know if modern ones have that, where you can narrow the light and focus the diffused light onto one spot.

Then, when you turn it, the light starts spreading out again. It's similar to that. When you start practicing mindfulness, when you start training in mindfulness, we give the practitioner a meditation object, don't we? We give them a meditation subject and tell them to keep their attention on this one thing continuously. Whatever sounds, thoughts, or whatever you experience as the fundamental object, keep your attention on it continuously, continuously, continuously.

You are told not to pay attention to other things. When you're told to focus on one thing and not pay attention to anything else, let's say they sit continuously. They focus on one point, whether it's the posture, the breath, the rising and falling (of the abdomen), or whatever it is, maintaining attention with lightness and relaxation. So, when this attention is maintained continuously, there is a meditation object, isn't there?

When the mind is continuously focused on the meditation subject, let's say we manage to grasp that practice somehow. Gradually, we start to become capable of it. The mind begins to settle on one object, forgetting the others, reducing the tendency to chase after other things. Or rather, this chasing tendency diminishes, and then, as we keep watching this object, we begin to understand that the object gradually disappears, yet mindfulness remains. But even though mindfulness is there, what is it looking at? It becomes impossible to find out. That's what happens as you continue to meditate, it's what develops for the meditator. We say that the meditator cannot understand what they are focusing on once they sit down.

This means that as soon as they sit, the posture has subsided, the breath has subsided. You cannot focus on an object by trying to "see" it anymore. Sometimes, after two or three days of meditation, as you watch the object, after two or three days, you reach that blank space. But it's like this: that blank space exists in every breath, between every exhalation and the next inhalation. That blank space has been there from the very first day. However, on the first day, we didn't perceive it.

This means the middle space, the space between two breath waves, is something that has always existed everywhere. But we've been trained to look only at objects, haven't we? Because we've been trained to look only at objects, when we always look at the sky, we haven't seen the emptiness of the sky, have we? We saw the stars, we saw the moon. Look, no one writes poems about the emptiness of the sky, do they? "How beautiful is the empty sky?" No one writes that. They don't appreciate it. They don't write essays about it. Everyone writes about "how sweet is the moon that shone in the sky," "how beautiful is the moon," "how beautiful is the sky filled with stars." You see, our creativity is always filled with self-conceit. That means we want to look at something. We want to describe something, to make something a phenomenon.

In a place where there is nothing, we are covered up. That space is invisible to us. Look, even now, in this hall, what mostly exists is space, isn't it? We don't focus on that; we focus on you, the microphone, the Buddha statue, the objects. We directly focus on objects; that's what we look at. Why? Because we haven't trained ourselves to look at empty space. When you look at empty space, there's nothing to mark or identify, no shapes or forms. Therefore, the 'self' (mamaya) cannot exist there. The existence of the mind ceases there. And because the existence of the mind ceases, the mind doesn't like this. So the mind immediately tries to find an object to focus on.

For example, look now, as you watch me, try to focus not on me, but on the empty space between you and me. See what happens. Your attention will be on that space between you and me. Look, what happens when you keep looking at the space? What happens, Amitha? When looking at the space? See? You can't focus on it as a 'thing.' Both the viewer and the viewed disappear, don't they?

What is it? I mean, don't focus on me, focus on the space in between. What happens when you try that? Ah? Ah? Then, the existence of both the viewer and the viewed disappears. That's why I said we are accustomed. Our consciousness is accustomed to being shown an object, and then it constructs a blank space between the two objects. Why? Because the 'self' (mamaya) cannot exist there. As soon as it goes into that middle ground, it's like falling through the floor. As soon as it focuses on the middle, as soon as it's placed in that space where things wear away, the illusion of 'self' loses its existence for it. It can't cling to a place. It can't remain in a place.

Therefore, we quickly remove it, quickly process it, and then quickly grab onto an object again, onto you. We grab onto you. Then look at that. That's when you understand this trick. This trick of consciousness – it beautifully covers the middle and then connects the two ends. That's what the Buddha called the 'seamstress.' It covers the middle. As soon as you look into the middle, the middle is empty (sunya), isn't it? You can't focus on a middle because there are no signs, no marks, no forms in the middle. No sign, no mark, no form. So, there's no time for it, no place for it.

Therefore, this defiled mind, the mind that seeks objects, shows a great aversion to this. So, that's why, every time we meditate, we try to grasp an object. Now, observe carefully in walking meditation; it becomes very clear. As soon as one foot is placed, we immediately grab the next foot in the transition. We don't perceive the space in between the placement of this foot and the shifting to the next. The way that shift happens between the two, without being caught by time or space, without any specific feeling of that transition. That's when we understand that there's a game being played by covering a card.

From somewhere, it's covering a card on us. That means it covers one place. It makes it dark, it obscures it. It makes it invisible. This is clearly understood: as soon as you look at this hall, your mind quickly goes to the objects in the hall, not to the space. But it's because of the space that all these objects are visible. If there were no space, nothing would be visible, would it?

Now, consider the true value of this hall; it's the emptiness itself. Now, think about these walls – they are not the walls themselves. Walls have no inherent value. If there were only walls, you couldn't live inside them. We are all able to exist within this space. Within this space. Now, I'm not saying this is Nibbana or space or anything like that. I'm not talking about Nibbana. The mind immediately tries to compare, "Is that Nibbana?" Don't go there. I said that for now, the mind is accustomed to focusing on objects. The mind seeks only signs. As the mind becomes signless (animitta), what happens to it? It evades it. It cuts it off. It just covers it up for us.

Even when looking at the breath, observe: every breath ends in an empty space before the next breath begins. Matter becomes empty, and from that emptiness, matter reappears. But we don't become aware of that empty place, do we? It's covered from us. To say it's covered and we become aware means you cannot grasp it as an object. When you become aware of it, that very awareness of it disappears in that moment of awareness.

Therefore, that blank space is covered, and there's always a tendency to grasp the next object. It's just like I said, even when we look at the sky, we look at the stars, but stars are tiny. If you gather all the stars and put them aside, and then consider the space, there isn't even 0.001% of stars compared to space. The amount of stars is very small relative to space.

The Dominance of Space and the Mind's Aversion to Emptiness

It's like that. What we call "matter," the physical, is far less than "anti-matter," which means emptiness (sunyata) is much greater than complete physicality. Everywhere, the nature is space. Look now, if we take this land, the space is greater than the trees and plants. However, there's a tendency in us to dislike this quality of space. There's a problem: the consciousness that has become accustomed to grasping objects for some reason tries to evade this. It tries to forget this.

Now, what is done in meditation, giving one object and saying, "keep looking at this continuously," is not just about that. When you keep looking at it continuously, you connect with that space. It's like striking a bell; if you listen until the sound of the bell fades away, the bell also connects to that place where there is no object. If you listen carefully...

[Music]

The Mind's Trick and the Nature of Craving

It's like that. When we meditate, just like initially focusing the torch beam on one spot, we put our attention on the sound. The sound is an object that can be focused on, isn't it? When we focused on that sound, what happened? Gradually, the sound faded away, worn out, and that empty state emerged. And as that empty state emerges, our mind plays tricks. Instead of settling peacefully with that empty state, it tries to hear another sound. It goes looking for another object. Because in the state of "nothingness," it starts to think, "This is uncomfortable." It tries to go into the world of thoughts. When it's calming down, calming down, it doesn't want to become aware of that calm.

It doesn't want to become aware of that calm. Because at that point, it's a bit like boredom. Like, "What should I look at next?" You can't figure it out. "What is my meditation object now?" You can't figure it out. There's always a doubt about this experience that arises in the mind. "What should I look at now?" "What is the next meditation object for me?" Because that meditation object, like the sound that ended, that meditation subject has worn away. After that meditation subject has worn away, what is called the 'self' (mamaya), what is called self-view (sakkāya-diṭṭhi), is now looking for something. It looks around for an object to cling to. Why? Because it's not used to that state of having no object. That's when a kind of bewilderment or confusion comes over it. "What should I do now, venerable sir?" That's when it's like, "Hold on, you've been doing something all this time, looking for something, doing something." This mind is greedy; it keeps looking for something, looking to see something. It needs to be taught to connect with that state of nothingness for a little while. So, to the extent that it can become aware of that state of having no object...

When it attempts to become aware of this, various things happen. Yes, then from here, it starts to go and pick up ants. Various things come and try to destroy the awakening to that state of objectless-ness. It tries to stir us up, to make us grasp an object again from the objectless state. It means a complete agitation starts to arise.

The Transition to the Fourth Jhana and Beyond

So, what the meditator needs to do is this: to the extent that there is no object. That is, when I try to meditate, I don't perceive such a meditation object anymore. That's exactly how the Fourth Jhana happens: the object wears away, the object disappears at the level of the Fourth Jhana. So, don't try to label it as "I'm in the Fourth Jhana" or similar.

However, grasp this experience: gradually, the object begins to disappear without you noticing it. The object starts to wear away. It's precisely here that it's said that meditation is like a mess. There seems to be no order whatsoever. Sounds are heard from here, thoughts arise from here. But at the same time, one begins to understand that being in this state now, for some, is very unpleasant, very uncomfortable. Because they are not used to it internally. They are not used to being in a relaxed state.

So, what we need to do here is, at this point, it's like the light from the torch now starts to spread out. Mindfulness (sati) is there, but it's spread out well. Even though mindfulness is there, it's not focused anywhere. Mindfulness is not directed towards any specific point internally. It's not aimed at any place. There's just bare mindfulness; we call it complete, complete like the light from the torch that's spread out. When the light is spread out, we can't figure out if mindfulness has increased or decreased. Why? Because when you look intensely at one thing, everything appears sharply. But once it starts to spread out, we can't figure it out. "Has my meditation gone right? Or has my meditation started to increase?"

We start to reach a point where we can't figure it out. But then, we need to understand well that at that time, we don't try to grasp an object again. However, you realize it's a "mess." There's no specific object now. No specific object. But you know there are sounds. Now, imagine, in this space, sounds are heard. There are trees. Now, listen to this discourse. Sounds of construction are heard over there. Sounds of drilling are heard. Now, if you ask, "Where is this space focused?" Where is this space focused? Space is not focused anywhere. Space is not directed anywhere.

The Nature of Space and Judgement

However, even though space is not focused anywhere, you feel the wind within this space. Similarly, you hear the sounds of construction and drilling. You hear the discourse. Then, it's like, for a moment, think that you are this vast space. If for a moment you become this space, and then if you're asked, "Where are you listening from now? What are you listening to?" You can't say. But everything is felt, heard, perceived. But what's the difference? The difference is that this space doesn't get agitated like we do, does it? We don't realize that space isn't trying to escape. It doesn't judge. There's no "judgment." That means in space, there's no "Oh, a person killed someone today, that's a bad thing." Or "Oh, the discourse is being heard today, that's a good thing." Those judgments disappear, don't they? Space gives us the understanding that it doesn't have that. We are the ones who judge. That's when we realize we are living within a culture that has taught us.

The Influence of Culture and Human Evolution

We are living within a culture that has taught us. As we evolved within culture, humans adopted some notions of right and wrong. This human evolution – meaning, the evolution of humanity from being forest dwellers to gradually becoming city dwellers, urbanized. As we came to the city, we created our own civilization, that's what we are in.

Now, from wearing clothes onwards, animals don't have so many troubles, do they? Animals don't have so many troubles. We've thought within our evolution, or rather, can we truly say whether wearing clothes is civilized or uncivilized? You can't. It's something that humanity considered good within its evolution. Wearing clothes. So then, can you say animals haven't evolved? You can't. If we explain it to them, animals might say, "These humans are crazy! Why are they covering their whole bodies?" "Instead of living freely, they're wrapped up here and there." It's like that.

The Nature of Space and Non-Judgment

Similarly, as we progress in meditation, that space doesn't categorize anything. Nothing is relevant to that space. And just as if a plane crashed into space, space never turns black permanently, does it? It turns black for a moment, and then it simply disappears within space. No matter what colors you put in, space begins to disappear. No color can remain in space, can it?

No color remains in space. Similarly, when we meditate and reach that state of awareness, even though we have no meditation object, we understand that no object can be established from anywhere. No sign can be established internally. No object or sign can be established.

Beyond Judgment and the Dissolution of Distinctions

However, despite that, nothing is judged internally like before. Previously, there was a lot of judgment within us. Our inner self measures, weighs, and judges everything it hears. But after this transformation into the nature of space, internally, I'm not saying that self-view (sakkāya-diṭṭhi) is completely finished, or that the 'self' (mamaya) is completely gone. I'm not saying that. However, when you go into this experience after the Fourth Jhana in this meditation – that's what the question was, wasn't it? You say that this Fourth Jhana then exists in daily life. I understand it, but not by the word 'Jhana.'

I understand it as the nature of space within. The nature of space prevails internally. You don't perceive two things like "thoughts and mindfulness." You don't perceive two things like "sounds and mindfulness." That means the act of separating, the dividing lines, begin to disappear. Initially, we looked at the meditation object, the breath, and thoughts as two separate things, didn't we? We looked at feelings and mindfulness as two separate things. There was a primary meditation subject.

The Dissolution of Boundaries and the Emergence of Non-Judgment

Now we understand that as mindfulness grows, like light expanding, like light spreading, we lose awareness of the boundaries. What is the line between mindfulness and thought? What is the line between feeling and mindfulness? What is the line between 'me' and 'the other'? What is the line between a mind of craving (raga) and dispassion (viraga)? These lines vanish. These lines disappear. That means we now have no judgment. There is no verdict. We understand that every judgment came through the cultural framework instilled in our minds.

The Discipline of Space and Unconditional Compassion

However, for a beginner, that is necessary. For instance, even if we come to a meditation center or become ordained, we are given precepts, aren't we? We are told to observe these training rules. That's how one begins. But beyond a certain limit in meditation, once you meditate until the meditation object wears away and you enter that spatial state of awareness, then there is a discipline that comes with that spatial state of awareness.

No, not condemnation; I said discipline. Discipline here means that after one becomes aware in that spatial way, after transforming into a mindfulness that has no object, everything is clearly felt. It's not like things are dissolving away, or that mindfulness is disappearing. In that very state of awareness, in that very mindfulness, there is a certain knowing (ñāṇa). There is wisdom (paññā) inherent in that mindfulness, relevant to that mindfulness. This means, as I understand it, a person who has become this spatial mindfulness, I don't think they would unnecessarily break even a leaf from a tree.

Because as one becomes this spatial mindfulness, their inner being is connected to a profound stillness. Now, when they use something, or break a leaf from a tree, it's like not causing any pain even to that leaf, not disturbing the tree at all. This nature is not something imposed by a discipline. It's a natural, spontaneous discipline that exists in that spatial mindfulness. In that spatial mindfulness, there is compassion. There is no 'I' there. There is no 'I' who is compassionate. It's the inherent nature of compassion that exists within that natural, spatial state of awareness that is clearly felt. It begins to be clearly felt and understood. If a person's inner being transforms into this spatial mindfulness, I don't think they would even make a sound that would disturb someone in the next room.

Because within that spatial mindfulness, there is such silence. Within that spatial nature, there is stillness.

Embracing Stillness Amidst Sound

Now, look. Let's allow the sounds from outside to be heard silently. See how the creaking sounds, the audible sounds, do not obstruct our stillness. Within that very silence, we can hear it. We hear it. Even the 'oh' sound, but the stillness present in this moment feels and hears them well. There is no hindrance.

If we try to add to it, "What a nuisance! Just when I'm meditating, they start cutting tiles, and that sound, and this sound, and it's all happening right next to this hall!" Then, suffering arises. Why? Because I'm adding a little bit to it. A little bit from what's in my mind. "What a karma is this! I can't even meditate in peace!"

If you go into a room, the person there is screaming, snoring, and when you come here, they're cutting metal all around. "It's noisy here," you might say. If you attribute that to the situation, then it's a problem, isn't it? Otherwise, there were never truly any "problems" or "incidents" in life. To me, it seems like we're just suffering because we're trying to solve a problem that doesn't exist.

So, how is a sound you hear a problem? It's not a problem. But if you make it a problem, then you try to escape it, block it out. When you try to seal things off, you need to install doors. Why? Because you need to soundproof. When you soundproof, it gets hot, so you need to turn on a fan. If you keep creating problems like that, everything's ruined. Even the Dhamma is ruined; you'll die just from sweating.

Then you have a million problems. I mean, this is the suffering of existence (samsara), where we create non-existent problems and then try to find solutions for them. Liberation (Nibbana) is actually already there within naturalness. We are already in Nibbana within naturalness. But by becoming unnatural, and making unnaturalness our truth, we're now trying to make the unnatural natural, and that's the struggle we're facing.

Overcoming Obstacles through Natural Awareness

So, at that point, the meditating yogi begins to gain that knowledge. Once it comes through mindfulness, they don't perceive obstacles. They don't even think that something might be said. Isn't that right? Now, think about it: the sound that arose didn't obstruct the meditation, did it? Because meditation doesn't have a fixed point of focus like that. However, if I try to forcibly focus on something, then that sound becomes a huge obstacle. It's a disturbance then. But if you're just being mindfully aware, then sounds exist within that mindfulness. And that's when we can't figure out if we're meditating or not. "Now I hear sounds too." But you're just there. "Now I don't see my breath, I don't see anything else."

That's when we understand that there are no such problems. Gradually, gradually, within that state of awareness, there's a settling, an establishment of awareness within awareness itself. As it settles, the 'self' (mamaya) cannot find it. The 'self' loses its existence. That's why it thinks, "I can't figure out if I'm meditating or not." "Venerable Sir, I don't understand if I'm meditating or not."

Their meditation is going to the top. Through that meditation, they no longer have "obstacles." If you ask them, they'll say, "Oh, Venerable Sir, it's good!" If someone over there is snoring loudly, they won't even fall asleep. It's amazing! You can keep everything in mindfulness. If someone is snoring like a tiger until dawn, then it's wonderful! You can practice Satipatthana until dawn! "Oh, I'm so sick of it!" If someone giving meditation instructions says to use snoring as a meditation object, then for someone snoring in the kuti until dawn, it's directly Kāyagatāsati (mindfulness of the body). You keep listening mindfully, mindfully, mindfully. So, in the end, it's these very obstacles that, to me, ultimately help in attaining liberation.

In the end, it's precisely in those places where we say "mindfulness is not possible" that our mindfulness has been strongest. That's the day we accept it. "I have become a Buddha!" I wonder if you understood what I said. I don't know.

It's precisely in the places where we say mindfulness (sati) is impossible that we've had the most profound mindfulness. The day we accept that, the problem is over. To accept it, you need to hear some Dhamma. It doesn't come naturally to accept it. It's like a hook, always going for a fight. It seems like the biggest hindrance was always mindfulness itself. In times of trouble, we've had the most intense mindfulness. The most profound awareness, the most profound knowing, has been present then. So, if someday you look at it from that angle, we won't have problems.

The End of the Story: Buddhahood and Redefined Mindfulness

On that day, we would have already become a Buddha, already awakened. After that, there's nothing more for us to see or do in life. The story ends there. That means, as soon as that definition given to mindfulness, that interpretation, turns the other way, then mindfulness itself has actually been defined as concentration (samādhi) by us. As soon as we slightly change that and give mindfulness the primary place again, we realize that obstacles don't exist anywhere. Unless you create an obstacle and then look at it. Unless you create an obstacle, there are no such things as obstacles. There are no such things as incidents. There is only bare awareness. Only bare awareness is present here.

The Wisdom and Compassion of Spatial Awareness

See, in that way, when right view (sammā-diṭṭhi) is added to mindfulness within you, as this spatial mindfulness develops, there is truly a corresponding wisdom present there. That person doesn't need to specifically choose good or bad. This spatial mindfulness, coming through that awareness, will never cause any disturbance to anyone through their actions. Even if they do, they will ask for a lot of forgiveness for it. Because they cannot harm this silence. Because their teacher now is this pure mindfulness itself. This purified awareness is their teacher.

That awareness teaches us. That mindfulness shows us, "Now, the sound is too loud for you." "Now, you are going too much to an extreme." That mindfulness, that is how that non-duality arises from within. That is, as that awareness develops more and more, they understand. That awareness itself shows us this nature of awareness. "This is it." That is, through awareness, what I have is that awareness itself is the teaching. Beyond that, there is no teacher. The teacher is that developed mindfulness. However, even though the teacher is called mindfulness, mindfulness is not a person. Mindfulness is not a place where it exists anywhere. It's a wisdom that functions through that mindfulness.

Understanding the Illusion of Self and Craving

So, when wisdom comes through that mindfulness, a quality inherent in that mindfulness is what we call gentleness and loving-kindness. Mindfulness itself is a nature. It's not that mindfulness is a nature of love; that's why they say "God is love," isn't it? Jesus. When we reach this state, when our inner being transforms into this nature, we understand that what we were before, that dense, immense suffering that we called 'me' all this time, was not truly a 'self.' It was craving for suffering. Understand these words well: there was no 'self' (mamaya); there was only craving for suffering.

The Buddha never... do you remember I mentioned a Sutta recently? The Satva Sutta. Ananda Thero asks the Buddha, "Who is a being (satva), Venerable Sir?" The Buddha states, "Monks, the designation 'being' is applied when there is craving for form (rupa)." Now, a person doesn't have craving for form.

Yes, it is said that the designation of a being (satva) arises when there is craving for form. When there is craving for feeling (vedanā), the designation of a being arises. Look at the Pindolaputta Sutta, or some other Suttas, where it talks about craving and desire for perception (saññā), mental formations (sankhāra), and consciousness (viññāṇa). The Buddha speaks of this very point I'm making. The Buddha teaches and asks, "Who is a being?" Even though we feel ourselves as a being now, we can't pinpoint a place to designate a 'being.' That's when it's said that this designation arises when there is craving. This feeling of 'I' as a separate being, distinct, is because of the craving for feeling.

Understanding the Root of Suffering: Craving for Experience

Then we understand that all this time, we've believed in this 'I, I, I,' but what we've truly experienced all this time is simply a desire for suffering, a desire for feeling. So, whatever experience you take, that's what it is. The craving to experience something is what brings us suffering in it. Even if it's equanimity, wherever there's a craving for some experience, a being arises there, within feeling. So that itself is suffering. The very craving for that experience is suffering. That means, what are we looking to experience? We're looking for an experience, a sensation. That's why we get addicted to drugs, addicted to sex, addicted to love. We just start wandering here and there, driven by this sensation.

Or why do we get addicted to concentration (samādhi)? Or addicted to the empty state of meditation? It's hitting the mark as equanimity, or as a very simple form. It's an experience, right?

The Unveiling of Craving and the Path to Liberation

So, in this way, as this developed mindfulness grows and grows, it understands that even if it gets attached to concentration or something similar, that's when the individual's body of feeling starts to age and wither. Through that very attachment, individuality arises, trying to grasp tightly. It doesn't want to let go. It doesn't want to disappear. Then it's, "Oh, Venerable Sir, I don't have concentration, I'm so confused now, my mind is agitated!" That itself is suffering. That itself creates suffering. So, that's why we need to understand it well then. That's when it starts to dawn on us. As we practice well, I mean, that Sutta I mistakenly mentioned earlier, don't take it that way. Because the mind you have now is the one that goes and tries to analyze it from that side. Let it just descend into the experience itself. In the experience itself, it becomes clear to us.

If we start to grasp something with mindfulness, we begin to feel a heaviness in that grasping place, where craving is involved. In that spatial mindfulness, in one's currently developed state of awareness, the pain associated with that grasping, that very pain, causes that to lose its existence. That dissolves away. What we mean by that dissolving away is that the mindfulness (sati) penetrates that light well, and this body of feeling, this feeling, this craving for feeling, this craving for this feeling itself is suffering, that this craving for form itself is suffering – don't try to grasp these as words or theories. Mindfulness doesn't understand it as "this is suffering." When it focuses on it, there's a tendency for it to fall away. Because it feels very clearly the suffering in the mind that grasps, in the mind that clings.

As I understand it, as mindfulness goes towards that awareness, towards spatial mindfulness, there is no 'self,' no 'I' as a person. What we have been doing all this time is cultivating craving for suffering. What is called suffering is craving for the five aggregates of clinging (pañca upādānakkhandha).

The Truth of Suffering: Craving for the Aggregates

The Buddha states the truth of suffering: the five aggregates of clinging (pañca upādānakkhandha) are suffering. These five aggregates themselves are suffering. That is what is called a being (satva). There is no origination or cessation of a 'being' here. It's like this: we have a suffering that has arisen not due to an individual nature, but due to the nature of ignorance (avijjā). This suffering, however, is not permanent; it's not that there was a fixed suffering that then disappeared. This suffering is present-moment, dependent on conditions, a suffering taken up due to causes. This is what we crave. It is due to craving that this nature called an 'individual' is designated.

That means, in other words, what is called 'self-hood' (mamaya), in other words, is a profound burden, a profound pain. Yes, it's an oppressive, burning quality, always desiring something. As that comes into the light of mindfulness, as it falls into mindfulness, that 'self' (mamaya) cannot establish itself there. That means it becomes very clear that the tendency to grasp at concentration or even liberation, the attempt to hold onto it, the heaviness inherent in that itself, starts to be caught by mindfulness. That's why I said that a corresponding wisdom arises for it. That mindfulness itself... now, don't think of this wisdom as a concept. I'm talking about something that happens within that very awareness.

The Unburdening of Mindfulness

That awareness... yes, you can say it's maintaining it. But more than that, as the nature of grasping, the nature of heaviness, is felt, it falls away. It's not that you make it fall away. When you say 'maintaining,' it sounds like an understanding. But this is not such an understanding, nor is it an analysis. Right, what you say, Venerable Sir, is correct. When we express it verbally, we think, "Ah, okay, because I'm attached to concentration, I'm experiencing suffering," and understanding that is like a letting go. I'm saying it doesn't even go that far. There isn't even contemplation at that level. Mindfulness begins to understand the weariness in continually grasping and holding on; it cannot sustain itself within that. Eventually, even the word 'mindfulness,' if you try to hold onto 'mindfulness,' you start to feel the weariness in that too. It doesn't contemplate it and realize it's suffering to that extent. It just begins to understand that mindfulness cannot be established anywhere. Even the concept of 'mindfulness' doesn't become a burden. It doesn't try to make even that permanent.

The Revelation of No-Self in the Absence of Mindfulness

That means, why? Because if you truly observe now, at this moment, you're mindfully watching the breath. Now, mindfulness disappears and goes here and there. Now, at that time, observe the mindfulness. At that time, look carefully at what happens to the breath. The breath goes to the very essence. Try it while walking. As you continue walking, your mind goes to other thoughts, and then observe carefully when that mindfulness disappears. Now there's no mindfulness, is there? Mindfulness is on a mental journey, and mindfulness has disappeared. While you're on that mental journey, look at what has happened to your walking. It's going beautifully, isn't it?

Then, damn it, it's precisely when mindfulness is absent that liberation is truly realized. When mindfulness is absent, the work is done at its peak.

Do you understand what I'm saying? In the end, mindfulness itself is the 'self' (mamaya). When that too is absent, that's when it's at its peak. However, there's no one there to know it. There's no knower. It's just liberation itself that's happening.

Ah, no, that argument you're making, that's from another book. It's not like that. Okay, come down to earth. Come down to earth. As long as defilements exist, it's not mindfulness, but when the mind goes out, just observe the walking. That's it. How one walks without a 'self.' That's enough. Don't go to that other extreme, with all those theories. It's too much for your head; this is a simple thing. When I walk, the extension of a simple matter, then I understand. The 'self' is on a mental journey, hitting a mental wall. But here, it's understood. Even where there's no such thing as mindfulness, the walking continues, doesn't it? Who is walking? No one sees. It's just that walking. Without anything, without anyone. That's when it means, "Ah, the job's done! Things are really popping!" when even the part called **mindfulness (sati)** is gone. That's also not there. Don't try to get rid of it now. Don't try to make it another complication by trying to get rid of it. As you keep doing it, it's there. There's also a place where it's not there, called the **unconditioned element (asaṅkhata dhātu)**, but that's not a story about a thinking mindfulness. That's why I'm saying, you don't need to go that far now. You're just making the analogy more complex after that.

I just mentioned it as an analogy to show that in the end, when the work is done, even the knowing that the 'self' is not there, the 'self' is not there, is absent. Even the part called mindfulness is removed. Don't think about it that much. If it goes that far, it's like making liberation into a phenomenon. I was just trying to show that even when this 'self' disappears, there's no problem; things happen beautifully. That's why I used the analogy. A 'self' is not needed here. Even without a 'self,' observe how the walking proceeds beautifully. Even when there's no 'self,' how the breath becomes Anapanasati beautifully. When the mind went out, was mindfulness present then, or was it even better? The 'self' truly isn't there. And at that point, there's no 'self' to look for.

Now, don't try to take that and add it to a theory. Don't go so far as to think, "Isn't that annihilationism (ucchedavāda)?" Don't go that far. Let's go through these experiences themselves. Otherwise, as soon as you get entangled in the theory, it becomes an increasingly complex story, and our minds get tired trying to figure it out. We try to fit this into that. No, I'm simply saying, go into the simple experience. Then, if mindfulness is there, it will identify the defilements. That's good. Otherwise, there are no defilements, no craving, and no liberation. True liberation doesn't give unnecessary value even to that. It doesn't crave even that. Even if mindfulness is used for its benefit, it doesn't cling to mindfulness, embrace mindfulness, or hold onto mindfulness as a story. If it disappears, and then it appears again, that's fine. You feel it clearly. Even if it's not there, that's fine.

It's like that. If mindfulness isn't there, in the end, it's like trying to hold onto mindfulness tightly. In the end, it's, "Oh, this spatial mindfulness is the real thing!" Don't grasp it. If it's not there, that's even better. That's what was said earlier, that if it develops, that's good; if mindfulness doesn't develop, that's even better. There's nothing more than that. After you die, there's nothing, it's over. The mind is over. Everything is over. There are no problems. A dead body has no mindfulness. Everything is over. The whole story is over. But a dead body isn't even called a dead body. Without mindfulness, a dead body remains as a dead body. Mindfulness is also gone. So, to some extent, spatial mindfulness is needed. If you cling to even that, there's a 'self' in it, and that too is suffering. There's a burden there too. Why? Because you're struggling to maintain even that now. You're trying to cling to it very tightly.

Letting Go of Mindfulness and the 'Self'

That's it then. Don't try to let go of that either. If that too lets go, then "Sadhu! Buddhahood is right there!" Just keep that in your mind for now. Even that won't be there then. If you try to do that now, then mindfulness will arise in the place of trying to do it. That's how it is. That's fine too. Even in the absence of that, you can still walk without a 'self.' The walking just happens beautifully, effortlessly. The breathing just happens beautifully, effortlessly. No 'I' is needed. No observer is needed either. Nothing at all. It's when that 'self' comes in, with mindfulness and a 'self,' that it tries to shape things. It tries to go straight, to do everything. If even that disappears, then in the end, it's clear now that we're not experiencing suffering by clinging to mindfulness. It's a suffering that arises when we try to hold onto mindfulness continuously, and it breaks. That's a huge burden that comes. For that, even mindfulness is suffering. In the final truth, mindfulness is not suffering. It's the mind that craves to grasp mindfulness that designates a 'being.' That nature of an individual 'being' is suffering. In that sense, when you say "mindfulness is suffering," then you put another meaning to it. So, does that mean mindfulness is not needed? No. Even mindfulness, if it's used with craving, becomes suffering. Even in mindfulness, the nature of 'I' as 'mine' is designated again.

Embracing Collapse and the Path of Naturalness

So, go fearlessly towards non-mindfulness. That is, allow things to collapse. What we mean by "non-attachment" is to let go when you're walking and you fall. Just fall! The mind is over, everything is over, it's a complete blast! We're scared, aren't we? We tremble. But open your eyes and quickly see it from that angle. You see the walking happening effortlessly. That's good. But if you go further, and close your eyes even more, the day someone falls down that embankment, that's when true mindfulness will be established for them. The mind will have let go and collapsed. On that day, there's no existence, no 'being' at all. After falling down with a thud, after a good piece has broken off, that's when you wonder, "Why am I afraid of where I'm going if I just close my eyes and let go?" We get scared and quickly pull back. But after that too breaks and falls, what I mean is, don't try to control mindfulness. Just relax a little bit. We don't relax; we're scared. We try to hold onto mindfulness very tightly. Be relaxed, be loose, be light. So, it's like a thread that's not loosened enough. We try to hold onto mindfulness tightly. We try to tighten mindfulness. Let mindfulness relax even mindfulness with mindfulness. Mindfulness, even mindfulness itself, is about that very relaxation.

The Illusion of 'Self' and the True Nature of Mindfulness

We're so afraid. This self-notion, this craving, this craving – that's what suffering is. That's why they say that the 'self' (mamaya) is suffering, not a 'self' as a person. It's because of craving that it doesn't let go. It's that nature of clinging that designates something like 'I.' It feels like existence has vanished. If craving disappears, it's like... That's why the Buddha said the cause of suffering is craving, and the cessation of craving is liberation, is cessation. We grasp these phenomena so tightly. Finally, it goes to the point of grasping everything, not loosening concentration, mindfulness, wisdom, and faith. Holding onto them tightly. It's not that they're not needed. Venerable monks say to grasp it like a razor. But you don't grasp a razor tightly, do you? You hold it lightly to shave or cut hair; if you press hard, it cuts your face. You hold it gently, like letting go. You hold it with the intention of letting go. The Buddha practiced Satipatthana in that way. Satipatthana is not about grasping an object. It's not with craving. It's just for our benefit.

Using Mindfulness and Concentration as Tools

Yes, mindfulness (sati) is even used only for the task at hand. It's not for holding onto it and boasting about it. Yes, so let it go without fear, let it just let go. It's like going straight, and now you say, "Bring the mountain and jump!" and then you tremble. "Let go!" Yes, then, "Where can I hold on? No, no, oh my goodness, no!" It's like going to jump down a cliff, and at the last moment, you scream, "No, don't push me!" And then the guides push you down, don't they? They make you jump. In the end, even mindfulness is something to be let go of, and concentration is something to be let go of.

However, it's like this: there's no use in just arguing about letting go without having won. Now, if we just think, "Oh, that's something to be let go of," it won't work. First, you have to win the country; otherwise, you can't let go of it. First, you have to win it. It's about letting go of a country that has been won. That's the Buddha's teaching: letting go of a won kingdom. The Buddha didn't say it's because he couldn't hold onto the kingdom that he let it go. He won the kingdom, he had the right to the kingdom. He had concentration.

The Game of Letting Go and the Nature of Reality

Without mindfulness, if you try to let go of it, then there's something to let go of. What is this mindfulness that hasn't been created, that has been created in these created things, that we cling to? "Oh, let go of the won country! Let go of craving!" It's like that. This is where the game is. This is where the work of meditation lies. There. This idea of letting go of a won country. I don't know; it cannot be taught. That's what is meant by 'rislava' (resignation/release). That means those who truly 'resigned' were unique. Look at mindfulness. When mindfulness is developed to such an extent, then "mindfulness is better if it develops, and even better if it doesn't develop at all." On the day you fully embrace that notion, even mindfulness vanishes. Wisdom also vanishes. You don't even grasp the 'mook' or 'ma' (meaning 'I' or 'mine'). You become the ultimate 'numb dial.' In the end, even the things we cling to, "it's good whether it develops or not, Venerable Sir," when you say that, then there's no more burden internally. Suffering is over then. Because there's no mindfulness you're clinging to, no concentration you're clinging to, no wisdom you're clinging to. Nothing at all. So then, where can a 'being' establish itself? Where can this illusion of 'me, mine' have existence?

Beyond Clinging: The True Freedom

Just as when walking, you realize that when mindfulness disappears, the walking becomes top-notch. Seeing that, not even clinging to that means that even when walking mindfully, you don't try to let mindfulness rule too much. Because you know that if anything is placed on top, that's where suffering will be for you. Where there's no clinging, there's no suffering for you. We don't cry when a loved one dies, do we? Suffering arises for me only from where I am attached. From there, I establish it. From there, I experience suffering. Understand that. Understand that, and then this is dispassion. That's why I said we're not going to gain anything at all. This is what I said at the beginning of the discourse, of this discussion. This is not a journey to gain something. Everyone who goes to gain something ends up with suffering in the end. They have to suffer defeat. We didn't go to gain something; what happens is the wearing away of craving. If you grasp onto anything for that, then even the mindfulness, concentration, and wisdom you grasp onto to wear away that craving, that too is craving. You see only the wearing away in that too. That's why the Buddha said that when cultivating the seven factors of awakening (bojjhaṅga dhamma) – mindfulness (sati), investigation of phenomena (dhamma vicaya), energy (vīriya), rapture (pīti), tranquility (passaddhi), concentration (samādhi), and equanimity (upekkhā) – followed by contemplation of dispassion (viragānupassī), contemplation of cessation (nirodhānupassī), and contemplation of relinquishment (paṭinissaggānupassī), don't even talk about that. See the wearing away in that too. See how it breaks and is ready to be worn away, to be let go of. Even mindfulness is something that breaks.

Understand that. Otherwise, we're again making mindfulness permanent, saying that mindfulness in the present is real.

Impermanence and the Nature of Mind

Then it's an existence again. Yes, in a place where there's this nature of impermanence (anicca), even mindfulness cannot be made permanent. Concentration cannot be made permanent. The Buddha himself said that what is here is an impermanent nature, a present-moment nature, an impermanent nature. So, it can't be different for mindfulness alone, can it? Mindfulness alone cannot be impermanent. You're trying to cling to some place, saying mindfulness is permanent.

Every mental factor (cetasika), after being developed to a certain extent, the remaining part is seen with the knowledge of the three characteristics (tilakkhaṇa ñāṇa). It's a seeing. You cannot make 100% of that mental factor permanent. You can develop it up to a certain point, and then it needs to be put into the understanding of the three characteristics. It needs to be put into wisdom (paññā). Even wisdom itself needs a wisdom about wisdom.

The Spatial Nature of Awareness in Daily Life

So, the point I've been making is that as we develop mindfulness in that way, and after developing mindfulness, as I said, you enter that spatial nature in the Fourth Jhana. That spatial nature of the Fourth Jhana begins to be understood by oneself. Now, wherever you go, wherever you get up and go, throughout the day, this spatial nature begins to persist. There's no meditation object; even without such an object, an inner mindfulness, equanimity, and silence begin to be felt throughout the day. That means, no matter what work that yogi does, they feel like they are in retirement, a sense of relaxation in every activity. Whatever they do, they are relaxed within that very activity. That very activity is relaxation. That very activity is repose. That very activity is equanimity.

That's the kind of state. That's when I asked that question earlier. That's the mood I was referring to when I said it feels like the Fourth Jhana is present throughout the day. In the Fourth Jhana, the question I think I asked was, you begin to understand that it's present throughout the day. No matter what work you do, you don't feel the passage of time. The work also happens beautifully. You don't feel "I've had enough now." Nothing is judged. You don't feel things like, "Oh, these are unproductive tasks." There's no such thing as productive tasks and unproductive tasks. Whatever you do, there's a sense of repose within that work. There's a sense of rest within that work. There's a beautiful, almost SMS-like quality within that work. A kind of solemn, mindful silence seems to flow into every activity. Throughout the day, in every activity, that quality begins to flow through their life. Then they don't understand that meditation is just a story about a sitting posture. That's why I say that as soon as we talk about meditation, it's very difficult for us to erase that story of the sitting posture. After reaching the Fourth Jhana level and removing that sitting posture story, we don't understand anything called meditation. For us, every moment is silence.

Embracing Disturbance for Inner Stillness

As agitation increases in places that are usually noisy, it becomes even more silent than usual. That means, compared to before, there's a greater sense of increased inner calm in the midst of agitation. As problems increase, the internal silence increases. Then, they can't understand why, even when disturbed, they are agitated. "Now I'm completely agitated, but that's when my silence is at its best!" That's when the yogi understands that something has changed in their life. "I didn't realize it while meditating, that I had such a state within me."

But for that person, after meditating, when they need to re-engage with daily life, problems should arise. That's why I said you need to stumble and fall. When you fall, things click into place. When problems are at their peak for them, then "I am full zero." The inner self is completely zero. Gradually, gradually, they understand how they become zero in every problem. How their internal silence, their complete stillness, increases.

The Inner Silence and the Non-Seeking of Peace

That's when they understand that I'm not saying there's always this fixed silence. However, as problems come, they gain a greater capacity to bear them than before. The tendency to judge them disappears. And they also begin to understand that the silence they experienced in the monastery, that same silence is present everywhere – whether they go to the beach or climb a mountain. Then they don't feel the need to specifically seek out places for silence. Before, they used to go to monasteries, to peaceful places. Now, those places aren't as appealing. They like that peace. But they understand that the emptiness within them, the silence within, remains the same even if they're amidst a million people. It's the same silence even when they go near a calm, still sea.

That silence, that stillness, arising through that spatial awareness, remains present in that way, no matter how many thoughts arise, no matter how many sounds are heard. Then they understand that their whole life, now their whole life, is filled with this stillness. Then they don't feel that there's anything special about going to places they used to go to, places they used to like. Before, when they went to those places, there was a special silence. Now, their whole life has begun to transform into that. So, that's what I have to offer as an answer to that. There's another question, isn't there? When I answer one, it always takes an hour and a half. I'll finish answering one and give a short answer.

A Meditator's Experience: Walking Meditation

"At that time, may the Triple Gem bless you. We began walking meditation, thanking everyone who built the walking paths and Mother Nature. For a few days, I meditated continuously, so I began the meditation with a greater sense of calmness than usual. I walked forward at a normal pace. The contact of my feet with the ground was clearly felt. I felt various sizes of sand grains touching from my heel to my toes. My attention shifted, feeling my knees bending, the robe touching my feet, the wind touching my body, and so on. Even if my mind wandered with thoughts, within a short moment, my attention spontaneously returned to the walking. After about an hour, I started walking backward. It felt like rewinding a movie. I was able to maintain the same forward walking pace backward without any difficulty. It felt as if my body itself was doing the walking. Even though I had never walked backward continuously, the walking happened as a very familiar action. No fear arose. I walked backward for about [some minutes - "minutes" missing from original text].

The Unfolding of Spontaneous Awareness

"Sitting for sitting meditation after walking meditation... 'This is good,' they think. 'Now the walking has started to become spontaneous.' That's good; that's what happens. As you keep meditating, walking starts to communicate through walking itself. You understand that there's no 'self' here. There's a separate, spontaneous process happening. So, that's good. Okay, let's move forward."

"Sitting for sitting meditation after walking, I bowed to the Triple Gem, my supreme teacher, and all the noble individuals who helped me on the path of Dhamma throughout samsara, and asked for forgiveness for all wrong actions caused by my mind to all beings and sentient life."

"Yes, now, when you're writing an essay, don't write that much. Then we get tired of it. It's too much, too much veneration. So, that's fine; you do that. But when writing here, just writing the short point is enough. Because as we listen to that part, the rest of it naturally goes to us, to our minds. Because while listening to that part, now, we don't need all that much, do we?"

The Listener's Experience and the Speaker's Perspective

...when you go through those, then the "crime" is that we don't hear the essential part as much as we should. Because an hour and a half has already passed. While listening to that part, the mind just... their faith is a good thing. But just because we listen to that faith doesn't mean it will come to us. That's why if you just write down the point, then the answer comes out beautifully, just as they want it. Otherwise, it's a "crime" to write so much; the last part gets missed, doesn't it? Because the initial minutes also add up with the story. When you start to read all the extraneous stuff, the rest just dissolves away. Okay, say it. "I began meditation, forgiving all wrong actions."

"If it began with a clear perception of blood flowing through the body, then we would understand. That part is a bit too much, isn't it? Okay, now, specifically, in the feet, face, and forehead, the mind was settling into bodily sensations without grasping other objects. Even if thoughts arose, mindfulness would redirect itself back to the meditation, and meditation felt like it was growing spontaneously. From time to time, attention shifted to the breath. A continuous feeling of entering a deep, dark abyss persisted. Neither bodily sensations nor thoughts were clear. I was truly happy about the light, spontaneous nature present in everything. That's all, Venerable Sir."

Navigating the Abyss: Faith as a Guide

Good. So, as meditation progresses, and you go towards that experience where the 'self' (mamaya) is absent – as I said, like the empty space between two thoughts – it's like falling into an abyss where the 'self' perceives no foothold, no place to cling. At that moment, the body seeks, tries to grasp, tries to fear. In that situation, the best thing is to use that faith (saddhā) you have. In that very way, let go of it, offering your life to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha. That's a character of faith, isn't it? That's why so much of that initial part, those things, are written. So, use that very faith to overcome that fear. If that fear comes, to rise above it, dedicate your entire life to the Buddha, and to worthy spiritual friends, preparing yourself for that offering. Then, little by little, on another day, you'll understand what it's like when meditating in such a state, unconsciously. If you prepare a little bit for the fear that might come, and offer your life to the Triple Gem, then after it happens once or twice, you'll be prepared for the next time it might come. Then there's no fear. It's not something that happens suddenly; you're a little bit prepared now, "I can experience something like this." So, understand it a little, prepare, and offer it to the Triple Gem. Then, that struggle will quickly become manageable on another day. You'll be able to face it. You'll start to develop the ability to look at that incident with open eyes, without trying to jump, without trying to aim.

The Freedom of No-Clinging

However, it then says that after that, a great lightness and peace came to him. That means he has passed that hurdle. That's the point where the fear releases the body, where the 'I' that was clinging to the body, those mental imprints in the body, disappear. Good, good. If we're concluding now, may the Triple Gem bless everyone.

Original Source (Video):

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Disclaimer

The translations shared on this blog are based on Dhamma sermons originally delivered in Sinhalese. They have been translated into English with the help of AI (ChatGPT & Gemini AI), with the intention of making these teachings more accessible to a broader audience.

Please note that while care has been taken to preserve the meaning and spirit of the original sermons, there may be errors or inaccuracies in translation. These translations are offered in good faith, but they may not fully capture the depth or nuance of the original teachings.

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