"Samahitha Sitha" (The Composed Mind) – First Insight Meditation (Vipassanā) Program | Thiththagalle Anandasiri Thero
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මුල් සිංහල වීඩියෝව සඳහා Play කරන්න
"Samahitha Sitha" (The Composed Mind) – First Insight Meditation (Vipassanā) Program | Thiththagalle Anandasiri Thero
By now, you are all aware of the situation. At this very moment, many people here in Sri Lanka, and even in Indonesia, have faced a great catastrophe.
You see, entire villages have been buried under the earth. Yet, the day before it happened, those people never imagined such a fate would befall them. In the same way, we do not think that we might die in another hour, do we? No, we certainly do not think that way. We believe we will be here tomorrow, and the day after, and that death is something that will happen only after some time. However, according to the nature of this earth and the nature of this universe, no one can say with certainty that they will be alive in the very next moment.
There is a specific word for this state. What is it? I can’t hear you—say it louder. It is uncertainty.
This means that what we consider to be certain is, in fact, not certain at all. We stand here thinking that we are on solid ground, believing the earth is stationary. That is how it feels to us every day. But science has shown us that this is not the case; the earth is spinning. If, while spinning, it were to suddenly hit the brakes, everything would be finished. The entire earth would be turned upside down.
We move along because of a certain rhythm within nature. As we move, it is actually surprising that things like minor storms, earthquakes, or the sea overflowing onto the land don't happen more often. It is not strange that they do happen. Yet, when such a shock occurs, people are shaken and ask, "Why did this happen?"
But this is not a great mystery. According to the Buddha, the real wonder is that these things do not happen all the time. The fact that we are not dying right now is the true surprise. Why? If something were to fall and hit us right now, we would all be finished. If the earth quakes, it is over. If a serpent bites us, it is over. If the food we eat for lunch turns poisonous, we would all either die or suffer near-death agony.
Therefore, whether above, below, in front, or behind—in every direction—there are causes for death, not causes for survival. Just like the accidents we see on the roads in Sri Lanka, as we live our lives, causes for death surround every human being and every animal in this world. The fact that we manage to slip through these dangers and survive—that rhythm of survival—is the real wonder. Dying is not a surprise.
However, as human beings, when do we become surprised? Because of our foolishness, we are surprised only when we die or when we get sick.
Getting sick is the same. This body is actually built to get sick. From the day of conception in the mother's womb, through to birth, think of how many illnesses a child faces. Look at us right now; some of you are so unwell that you can barely sit in your chairs. It is difficult to even keep your back straight. So, how many illnesses do we all carry within us at this very moment? It is only when one of them flares up that we are surprised and lament, "What a crime! Why did this happen to us?"
But the Buddha points out something different. He teaches that there is nothing to be surprised about in this. This body is constructed for the very purpose of falling ill. The highest probability for this body is sickness. To be free of illness is the true wonder. Yet, when do we become upset? Only when we catch a disease. The Buddha teaches that this body is the very source (nidāna) of disease.
So, the reality of life is one thing, but we are thinking about something else entirely.
What did I say? Everyone looks as if they are asleep. Come on, take a deep breath—loudly. Take it all in. Now exhale. Take another deep breath, loudly. Yes, take it just like he did.
I will teach you how to meditate at the end of this session. But first, we must correct our thinking regarding the reality of life. That is what Buddhism is; the Buddha teaches us to rectify our way of thinking. There is a great confusion in how we currently think. Right now, our minds are constantly focused on the continuation of life. So, what truly exists is uncertainty. What is it? Uncertainty. We do not think, "This life is uncertain; I must live fully in this moment." Instead, we are constantly planning for the future.
I recently saw a mother speaking who had fallen victim to this disaster. Someone had sent me the video, knowing that I preach the Dhamma. She had spent her entire life getting into debt, working tirelessly to build a house. Now, that house has been washed away by the floods. Her life, however, was spared. Do you understand? Somehow, she managed to leave the house and survive.
Now she says, "From now on, we will not toil like that to build houses. We will eat for the day and live for the day."
Why has she come to think this way now? I could even play the video and show you what she says. What is she saying? She says, "I spent my whole life in debt, piling debt upon debt, to build a big house. Now, not even a fragment of it remains; it has all been swept away." Not even the foundation is left. She declares, "From this point until I die, I will not get into debt to build houses." She mentions that even now, although the house is gone, the debt remains. "After this, I will not take on debt. I will simply eat and live for the day."
Now, has she learned a lesson or not? In this Buddhist country of Sri Lanka, how often do we hear this truth being taught in the Buddha’s sermons? Yet, it never truly occurred to her before, did it? If it had, she would not have indebted herself to everyone around her to build a house; she would have lived according to her means.
Now, she has understood life. Therefore, no matter how much we plan—and it is fine to do these things; it is not a problem for a person to build a house or buy a vehicle—we must understand the reality. What must we understand? Should we suffer in debt, twisting and turning in distress, or should we live according to what we have for the day?
Think back to when we were small children; we would go to the beach and build sandcastles. We would build houses and temples in the sand. What happens when the wave comes? When we were building in the sand, didn't we know that the wave would come and wash it away? Yet, we built it with joy. And when it was washed away, did we feel sorrow? Or were we happy? We were happy. Why? Because we knew all along that the sandcastle we were building would only last until the wave arrived.
Our lives are just like that. When a wave like this comes, everything we see is swept away. So, why can we not be happy when these things are lost? It is because we did not accept the fact that the things we build are destined to be destroyed. What happens to them? They are destroyed.
The teaching of the Buddha is far deeper than even this. However, if a person lives with at least this level of understanding, they will not be overly agitated during a disaster. Why? Because when you look at the nature of this world, the probability of things ceasing to exist—of being destroyed—is far greater than the probability of them remaining. It is a wonder that things exist at all.
We tend to think, "Why do so many troubles come only to our country, to us?" That is how we think. But it is only fair that it happens. Why? Because of the speed at which the earth spins. Furthermore, we talk about protecting the environment, do we not? But with the rate at which carbon is emitted, it rises up and forms a layer, trapping the sunlight and reflecting it back in. Consequently, the ocean temperature rises, leading to cyclones and such events. These are the results. When causes are created, results must inevitably follow. If we create a cause, a result must come. These are simply those results.
So, it is useless for us to create the causes and then shout that we do not want the results, isn't it?
Therefore, what must happen? We must understand this reality and live our lives accordingly. In the future, the probability of disasters occurring is even greater. With the wars going on now, nuclear weapons could detonate at any moment. The systems are now built such that if it explodes in one place, the whole world could blow up. Then, the destruction will be even greater than this.
As for natural disasters—cyclones, floods—they can occur not just in our country, but anywhere in the world. I remember about two months ago, a major disaster struck the state of California in America. When I was in Australia, a wind storm with speeds of 150 kilometers per hour hit Darwin. Trees were uprooted and carried away. So, it is the same everywhere on this earth. It happens in Japan constantly. We only feel the impact when it happens to us. But look at Bangladesh; they constantly face floods. In India, rivers overflow their banks. In this way, people all over the earth witness this balance of nature breaking down in various forms.
Therefore, although we seek physical protection, finding true safety in the physical world is not an easy task. Even if you are in a rock cave, what happens? I saw that a monk who was living in a cave was buried alive, and they still cannot find him. So, whether you are in a forest cave or underground, it is not certain. Thus, according to the Buddha and according to the wise, for a person to seek refuge in the physical world is actually just foolishness.
Therefore, the best thing is to live happily in that time. In which time? We do not know the future. The past is of no use now. It is important to live happily in this moment. I do not mean simply staring blankly into space. We have this moment right now; it has dawned upon us. Now, what is meditation? It is exactly this. It is not recalling the past and grieving. It is not wishing for the future and lamenting.
So, without going to those two extremes, what do we do? We use a certain technique to remain in the present moment. That is what we call meditating. What is meditation? It means not exhausting the mind by thinking about what will happen from this point onward. It also means not exhausting the mind by thinking about what has already happened, whether to grieve or to rejoice.
We must live happily in this moment. This is referred to as the enlightenment factor of rapture (pīti sambojjhaṅga) and the enlightenment factor of tranquility (passaddhi sambojjhaṅga); it means being at ease. A person loses their ease only if they drift to those two extremes. If we go there and imagine in our minds, "An earthquake might strike here tomorrow," or "Something might happen tomorrow," can we remain at peace? If someone close to us is sick or something has happened to them, we start thinking about it. Then there is no peace, no happiness.
If we think about the disasters that have occurred or about some missed opportunity in our lives, our peace is lost, and this present moment becomes defiled. So, what is to be done as meditation? For these four days, that is all you have to do. We are used to our thoughts drifting to those two sides, so we must use a method. There is a technique for this.
There are many techniques. We utilize one of these methods to avoid drifting to those two extremes. To do what? To live in this moment. That is what is called tranquility meditation (samatha bhāvanā). Insight meditation (vipassanā bhāvanā) is something else. This is tranquility meditation. So, what you can use now is the breath—your own breath and its rhythm.
Now, when meditating on the breath, you cannot do it sitting in chairs like those. You cannot observe the breath while sitting in those chairs; before long, you will fall asleep. You must either sit on the floor and keep your back straight, or if you use a chair, it should not be a flat, reclining one. You need a chair where you can keep your back upright. That is when it becomes easy to observe the breath. It is mandatory to keep your posture straight to observe the breath; otherwise, you cannot do it.
Your mind will drift to other parts of the body. Do you understand? When the Buddha preached mindfulness of breathing (ānāpānasati), He described sixteen steps. It was taught in sixteen stages. Of those, you can only practice the first step here. If a normal person were to attempt all sixteen steps, it would generally take more than a year to complete. The first step is: so sato va assasatti, so sato va passasatti—mindfully he breathes in, mindfully he breathes out. Say it and see: "Mindfully, I breathe out."
All right? What is mandatory here? Keeping the back straight is mandatory. You must keep your spine perpendicular to the ground; otherwise, it is difficult. Also, do not lean too far back or too far forward. Keep it perfectly straight. Even if you sit on a chair, do not lean against the backrest. Those who have physical ailments should stay in the chairs. Most of our group here do not have such ailments. Sit in the chair and keep your back straight. I am saying that those with ailments should not try to sit on the floor. Those of you in chairs, stay there, but keep your back straight. Later, you might find a different chair here, or you could sit on these steps, or even a desk—a desk is fine too. Sitting on the floor is not mandatory for this. What is mandatory is keeping your back straight. Is that clear?
Next, remember that mindfulness of breathing (ānāpānasati) cannot be practiced while standing up. Walking meditation (caṅkama) can be done while standing or moving. Loving-kindness meditation (mettā) can also be done that way. But do not attempt mindfulness of breathing while standing; you might feel faint and collapse. Why? Because when the mind focuses intently on the breath, the body suddenly relaxes and may fall. Therefore, this meditation of mindfulness of breathing is special. It is practiced only while sitting. That is how it is recommended. Is that understood?
In this practice, whether you are educated or uneducated is of no consequence. None of that matters here. All that is relevant is your ability to be aware of your breath moving in and out. Listen carefully. It does not matter how learned you are, whether you are a farmer, an engineer, a doctor, or even a monk. What matters is simply the extent to which you can naturally perceive the breath flowing in and out. I will now explain three methods. You must use only one of these three. All right?
Now, close your eyes. Without forcing the breath, observe where you feel the sensation of the breath. Do not try to breathe forcefully. Do not squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Just close them gently, enough to block out the light, and observe where the breath is felt.
Mm. All right, open your eyes now. Where did you feel it? Ah, you feel the air touching the skin right here. Raise your hand only if you felt it there—do not raise it just for show. If you feel it at the rim of the nostrils, then do not try to feel the breath anywhere else. Focus right there. That means as the breath moves in and out, you keep your attention fixed on that spot.
The Buddha provided a simile for this. Imagine a watchman—a gatekeeper. He does not allow anyone to enter or leave without inspection. That is to say, as soon as someone approaches, he knows. He knows, "Someone is entering here," and "Someone is leaving here." He does not follow the person inside to see what they do, nor does he follow them outside after they leave. Yet, nothing passes without being checked by him. What did I say? That is the simile.
This means if your point of focus is here, that is where you place your mindfulness (sati). You are aware of the touch as the breath enters, and you are aware of the touch as it leaves. It touches here when entering, and it touches here when leaving. Is that clear? That is all there is to it. You do not follow the breath deep inside, nor do you follow it outside.
Next, as you attempt to do this, because of your habits—the mind naturally gravitates toward what it is used to—your mind will inevitably drift into thoughts. It will go to your home, to that other thing, to the floods, or to the time you spent looking at your phone. When that happens, do not give those thoughts any attention. You must instantly bring your focus back to this spot.
The Buddha gave a simile for this as well. Imagine there are rice fields on both sides of a path. A cowherd is leading a strong young calf or ox. The ox constantly tries to stray into the fields on either side to eat the crops. However, using his strength and effort (vīrya), the cowherd holds it back and prevents it from going there.
Similarly, what you have to do today is a task more difficult than splitting firewood. The mind will wander to the past and the future, to various thoughts. But you must strive not to let it go to those two extremes, but to be aware of only this. This is what is called the meditation subject (kammaṭṭhāna). The meditation subject is simply this. All that matters to you is observing this sensation of touch.
If a person can remain in this state for just five minutes—meaning, if they can stay without drifting to other objects for five minutes—then after that, it is not difficult for them. From that point on, whether I tell them to or not, they will continue to do it. It is after that point that one begins to feel the greatest happiness in this world. The breath has the power to take us to a happiness that cannot be found by touching any physical, sensual object.
That is the journey you are about to begin. However, for the first five minutes, you must remain focused right there without letting the mind wander to anything else. That means knowing every single breath as it enters and leaves, perceiving it right at that spot. It is only when it touches here that you feel it. It is body consciousness (kāya-viññāṇa) that senses it. If a person can stay with it for five minutes without wandering, it means this meditation is not difficult for them. Why? Because even if their mind drifts away after that, they can instantly bring it back to this spot. Mastering that first minute is the hardest part. Why? Because if I tell you to do it now, you might start doing it. But the moment you let go, the mind naturally reverts to its old habits.
Therefore, you must break that habit. Also, do not eat too much. If you eat a heavy meal, you will not be able to meditate during the day. Is that clear? Take only a very small amount of food. As you progress in this meditation, you will find that you won't need much food anyway. Is that understood?
Next, along with this, I will also teach you walking meditation (caṅkama bhāvanā). Because if your mind is scattered to the point where you feel confused and overwhelmed, it is better to open your eyes and practice walking meditation. I will explain that next.
Now, for the second group—those who did not feel the sensation at the nose. Those who felt it there, continue with that. For the others, observe how the breath goes in and the abdomen expands and contracts. Is that clear? That too is simply knowing the inhalation and exhalation. Those who can feel it at the nose should not try to observe the abdomen. You can keep your eyes open for now. The others, those who do not feel it at the nose, listen carefully.
Keep your back straight and focus your attention on the abdomen. It enters... like a balloon, it expands and then contracts. Focus your attention there. Now, close your eyes—those who cannot feel it at the nose. All right. Now, raise your hands if you can feel the movement of the abdomen. Ah, now let's see—between those who feel it at the abdomen and those who feel it at the nose—raise your hands, both groups. Let's see who is left. Is there anyone left?
Ah, not in the middle... I mean, if you don't feel it at the nose or the abdomen. Ah, you feel it here? Ah, in the chest area. Then, be aware of it from there. The others should not go to that spot. If you feel it there, then observe it there. Now, what is important is that whether you perceive it here or there, what you are perceiving is the breath. Even when you perceive it here [at the abdomen], when the breath goes inside during inhalation and exhalation, it moves in two directions.
It goes in and comes out. Here, it expands and contracts. In this process of inhalation and exhalation, the object of focus is important only to unify the mind (ekaggatā). To do what? To keep the mind fixed in one place for a long time; the object itself does not have great significance. You could use loving-kindness (mettā) or the virtues of the Buddha (Buddhānussati) as the object. Any object will do. But those are not necessary right now. It is better to naturally observe the inhalation and exhalation.
Then, I can explain everything through that very practice. Now, what is the first step the Buddha taught in Pali? So sato va assasatti, so sato va passasatti—mindfully he breathes in, mindfully he breathes out. He is mindful of the breath. That means, in our ordinary life, until we die—until that last breath leaves the body at death—we are breathing. However, we are largely unaware of it.
There are sixteen steps described regarding this breath. But you must master this first step thoroughly. You must make the second step become manifest naturally. What did I say? Master the first step. That means if the foundation is laid well, you can build many stories upon it. It is the same with breathing in and out mindfully. That means if you can observe every single breath without missing one for about fifteen minutes, the second step will naturally begin to manifest for you.
The next step is: dīghaṃ vā assasanto dīghaṃ assasāmīti pajānāti, dīghaṃ vā passasanto dīghaṃ passasāmīti pajānāti—breathing in long, he discerns, "I am breathing in long"; breathing out long, he discerns, "I am breathing out long." I will explain that on the last day. To practice the other steps, one must be in it for the long haul. That means for someone who practices this very thing morning, noon, and night, the subsequent steps will become clear.
I will tell you this just so you know: starting with the breath is like embarking on a journey through the entire universe. Happiness, rapture (pīti), seeing past lives, understanding things according to karma—all of these will be encountered as you progress.
There is no point in explaining them now; it would be a useless task. These things should be taught to someone who dedicates their entire life to this practice. I have done this for about two years, doing nothing else but this. Then, it is just this and nothing else. So, if someone is willing to dedicate themselves like that, then they can be taught at the appropriate stages. Is that clear? You have come here temporarily, to meditate for these four days. So, during these few days, you cannot use your phones. Have the phones been collected? Do not ask for them back until you leave; you will get them on the day of departure.
Now, your primary meditation subject (mūla kammaṭṭhāna) is... what is it? It is mindfulness of breathing (ānāpānasati). I know from experience that your mind will not easily allow you to sit there and do this. For someone who has practiced and mastered even five minutes of it, it won't be a problem. They are already accustomed to it. They can do it well for an hour, two hours, or even three. But for the rest of you, for those just starting, your own mind will not easily grant you that space.
The mind will make you do all sorts of things. It will make you want to stand up; it will create pain here, pain there. It will not let you stay with the object. So, if you find it difficult to stay with just that one practice, I will teach you a second one. This one you must do.
There is space here, so without disturbing others, you can practice walking meditation (caṅkama). To help with the sitting practice, what do you do? You stand up and walk. Now, you stand up from there... look, this is also very easy. Walk to that point. Walk from there towards this light. Now, you must not pay attention to anything else; give your attention only to the soles of your feet touching the ground. Walk with that attention. Do not walk fast; walk at a normal pace.
All right, stop right there. Now, did you feel every step? No? You must go while being aware of every single one. If your mind wanders, you must stop. Did you feel it? Ah, just like that.
There is nothing complicated in that either. There is nothing to study. When our foot touches the ground, there is a feeling, a sensation. Touch this tile now. Just as you feel the tile, you feel the sensation when your foot touches the ground. You do not pay attention to anything else. You do not pay attention to the sounds around you. You do not give much attention to stray thoughts. You stay with that feeling.
Do not walk fast. When you walk slowly, you can perceive it. You can do this for 10, 15, or 20 minutes. There is space outside as well. You can walk in other places here; there is a small path separated for this. When the men move from here, there will be more space, and there is space over there too.
When you walk, do not focus on other things; focus only on the foot touching the ground. It is like when you place your hand here—you feel only that sensation. That is what is important. Go with that. Then, you will feel that the agitation in your mind has lessened. Then, go back, close your eyes, and practice mindfulness of breathing. Go to your seat, keep your back straight, and again direct your attention here [to the breath]. Struggle with it for about half an hour.
If you get tired and the mind becomes agitated again, then go back to walking meditation. What do you do? Walk again for about 15 minutes. These two practices help each other. The walking helps to reduce the restless nature of the mind. Then, that helps you to be aware of the breath.
So, that is all there is to it. That is the life of a yogi (meditator). You live with what is felt. With what? With what is felt. And even then, we do not use too many sensations because it would be troublesome. We use the breath and the sensation of the foot touching the ground. Does anyone need to study to do this? No. Because we usually wear slippers and such, we don't feel it much. But when you walk barefoot, you feel it well.
So, this is what we have for these four days. What you are doing now is calming the mind (samatha). What are you trying to do? To calm it down.
Then, in the evening, I will come and deliver a sermon on the teachings of the Buddha. That is called Insight (vipassanā). I will explain some details about that to help with your tranquility meditation. That will help you understand your sense of self, this foolishness of ours. So, calming the mind throughout the day will perhaps help you listen attentively to the evening sermon. Prepare your mind for that too.
All right, that is all. That is what I had to explain. So, what is the work of a yogi? Not going to the past, not going to the future, but living in this moment. Since it is difficult to live in this moment just like that, I gave you two techniques. One is to live in this moment using the breath. The second, if the mind does not allow that, is to walk systematically without disturbing others.
Therefore, do not engage in conversation. If you do, you become a disturbance to the others who have come here. These are your two duties. You will get to eat at the scheduled times. Do not go to sleep immediately after. From tomorrow, you will be given a timetable for washing clothes, bathing, and so on. Follow the timetable and do your work accordingly.
I will come for the evening sermon for about an hour. Then, I will explain insight (vipassanā) and tranquility (samatha) separately. All right then.
You see, entire villages have been buried under the earth. Yet, the day before it happened, those people never imagined such a fate would befall them. In the same way, we do not think that we might die in another hour, do we? No, we certainly do not think that way. We believe we will be here tomorrow, and the day after, and that death is something that will happen only after some time. However, according to the nature of this earth and the nature of this universe, no one can say with certainty that they will be alive in the very next moment.
There is a specific word for this state. What is it? I can’t hear you—say it louder. It is uncertainty.
This means that what we consider to be certain is, in fact, not certain at all. We stand here thinking that we are on solid ground, believing the earth is stationary. That is how it feels to us every day. But science has shown us that this is not the case; the earth is spinning. If, while spinning, it were to suddenly hit the brakes, everything would be finished. The entire earth would be turned upside down.
We move along because of a certain rhythm within nature. As we move, it is actually surprising that things like minor storms, earthquakes, or the sea overflowing onto the land don't happen more often. It is not strange that they do happen. Yet, when such a shock occurs, people are shaken and ask, "Why did this happen?"
But this is not a great mystery. According to the Buddha, the real wonder is that these things do not happen all the time. The fact that we are not dying right now is the true surprise. Why? If something were to fall and hit us right now, we would all be finished. If the earth quakes, it is over. If a serpent bites us, it is over. If the food we eat for lunch turns poisonous, we would all either die or suffer near-death agony.
Therefore, whether above, below, in front, or behind—in every direction—there are causes for death, not causes for survival. Just like the accidents we see on the roads in Sri Lanka, as we live our lives, causes for death surround every human being and every animal in this world. The fact that we manage to slip through these dangers and survive—that rhythm of survival—is the real wonder. Dying is not a surprise.
However, as human beings, when do we become surprised? Because of our foolishness, we are surprised only when we die or when we get sick.
Getting sick is the same. This body is actually built to get sick. From the day of conception in the mother's womb, through to birth, think of how many illnesses a child faces. Look at us right now; some of you are so unwell that you can barely sit in your chairs. It is difficult to even keep your back straight. So, how many illnesses do we all carry within us at this very moment? It is only when one of them flares up that we are surprised and lament, "What a crime! Why did this happen to us?"
But the Buddha points out something different. He teaches that there is nothing to be surprised about in this. This body is constructed for the very purpose of falling ill. The highest probability for this body is sickness. To be free of illness is the true wonder. Yet, when do we become upset? Only when we catch a disease. The Buddha teaches that this body is the very source (nidāna) of disease.
So, the reality of life is one thing, but we are thinking about something else entirely.
What did I say? Everyone looks as if they are asleep. Come on, take a deep breath—loudly. Take it all in. Now exhale. Take another deep breath, loudly. Yes, take it just like he did.
I will teach you how to meditate at the end of this session. But first, we must correct our thinking regarding the reality of life. That is what Buddhism is; the Buddha teaches us to rectify our way of thinking. There is a great confusion in how we currently think. Right now, our minds are constantly focused on the continuation of life. So, what truly exists is uncertainty. What is it? Uncertainty. We do not think, "This life is uncertain; I must live fully in this moment." Instead, we are constantly planning for the future.
I recently saw a mother speaking who had fallen victim to this disaster. Someone had sent me the video, knowing that I preach the Dhamma. She had spent her entire life getting into debt, working tirelessly to build a house. Now, that house has been washed away by the floods. Her life, however, was spared. Do you understand? Somehow, she managed to leave the house and survive.
Now she says, "From now on, we will not toil like that to build houses. We will eat for the day and live for the day."
Why has she come to think this way now? I could even play the video and show you what she says. What is she saying? She says, "I spent my whole life in debt, piling debt upon debt, to build a big house. Now, not even a fragment of it remains; it has all been swept away." Not even the foundation is left. She declares, "From this point until I die, I will not get into debt to build houses." She mentions that even now, although the house is gone, the debt remains. "After this, I will not take on debt. I will simply eat and live for the day."
Now, has she learned a lesson or not? In this Buddhist country of Sri Lanka, how often do we hear this truth being taught in the Buddha’s sermons? Yet, it never truly occurred to her before, did it? If it had, she would not have indebted herself to everyone around her to build a house; she would have lived according to her means.
Now, she has understood life. Therefore, no matter how much we plan—and it is fine to do these things; it is not a problem for a person to build a house or buy a vehicle—we must understand the reality. What must we understand? Should we suffer in debt, twisting and turning in distress, or should we live according to what we have for the day?
Think back to when we were small children; we would go to the beach and build sandcastles. We would build houses and temples in the sand. What happens when the wave comes? When we were building in the sand, didn't we know that the wave would come and wash it away? Yet, we built it with joy. And when it was washed away, did we feel sorrow? Or were we happy? We were happy. Why? Because we knew all along that the sandcastle we were building would only last until the wave arrived.
Our lives are just like that. When a wave like this comes, everything we see is swept away. So, why can we not be happy when these things are lost? It is because we did not accept the fact that the things we build are destined to be destroyed. What happens to them? They are destroyed.
The teaching of the Buddha is far deeper than even this. However, if a person lives with at least this level of understanding, they will not be overly agitated during a disaster. Why? Because when you look at the nature of this world, the probability of things ceasing to exist—of being destroyed—is far greater than the probability of them remaining. It is a wonder that things exist at all.
We tend to think, "Why do so many troubles come only to our country, to us?" That is how we think. But it is only fair that it happens. Why? Because of the speed at which the earth spins. Furthermore, we talk about protecting the environment, do we not? But with the rate at which carbon is emitted, it rises up and forms a layer, trapping the sunlight and reflecting it back in. Consequently, the ocean temperature rises, leading to cyclones and such events. These are the results. When causes are created, results must inevitably follow. If we create a cause, a result must come. These are simply those results.
So, it is useless for us to create the causes and then shout that we do not want the results, isn't it?
Therefore, what must happen? We must understand this reality and live our lives accordingly. In the future, the probability of disasters occurring is even greater. With the wars going on now, nuclear weapons could detonate at any moment. The systems are now built such that if it explodes in one place, the whole world could blow up. Then, the destruction will be even greater than this.
As for natural disasters—cyclones, floods—they can occur not just in our country, but anywhere in the world. I remember about two months ago, a major disaster struck the state of California in America. When I was in Australia, a wind storm with speeds of 150 kilometers per hour hit Darwin. Trees were uprooted and carried away. So, it is the same everywhere on this earth. It happens in Japan constantly. We only feel the impact when it happens to us. But look at Bangladesh; they constantly face floods. In India, rivers overflow their banks. In this way, people all over the earth witness this balance of nature breaking down in various forms.
Therefore, although we seek physical protection, finding true safety in the physical world is not an easy task. Even if you are in a rock cave, what happens? I saw that a monk who was living in a cave was buried alive, and they still cannot find him. So, whether you are in a forest cave or underground, it is not certain. Thus, according to the Buddha and according to the wise, for a person to seek refuge in the physical world is actually just foolishness.
Therefore, the best thing is to live happily in that time. In which time? We do not know the future. The past is of no use now. It is important to live happily in this moment. I do not mean simply staring blankly into space. We have this moment right now; it has dawned upon us. Now, what is meditation? It is exactly this. It is not recalling the past and grieving. It is not wishing for the future and lamenting.
So, without going to those two extremes, what do we do? We use a certain technique to remain in the present moment. That is what we call meditating. What is meditation? It means not exhausting the mind by thinking about what will happen from this point onward. It also means not exhausting the mind by thinking about what has already happened, whether to grieve or to rejoice.
We must live happily in this moment. This is referred to as the enlightenment factor of rapture (pīti sambojjhaṅga) and the enlightenment factor of tranquility (passaddhi sambojjhaṅga); it means being at ease. A person loses their ease only if they drift to those two extremes. If we go there and imagine in our minds, "An earthquake might strike here tomorrow," or "Something might happen tomorrow," can we remain at peace? If someone close to us is sick or something has happened to them, we start thinking about it. Then there is no peace, no happiness.
If we think about the disasters that have occurred or about some missed opportunity in our lives, our peace is lost, and this present moment becomes defiled. So, what is to be done as meditation? For these four days, that is all you have to do. We are used to our thoughts drifting to those two sides, so we must use a method. There is a technique for this.
There are many techniques. We utilize one of these methods to avoid drifting to those two extremes. To do what? To live in this moment. That is what is called tranquility meditation (samatha bhāvanā). Insight meditation (vipassanā bhāvanā) is something else. This is tranquility meditation. So, what you can use now is the breath—your own breath and its rhythm.
Now, when meditating on the breath, you cannot do it sitting in chairs like those. You cannot observe the breath while sitting in those chairs; before long, you will fall asleep. You must either sit on the floor and keep your back straight, or if you use a chair, it should not be a flat, reclining one. You need a chair where you can keep your back upright. That is when it becomes easy to observe the breath. It is mandatory to keep your posture straight to observe the breath; otherwise, you cannot do it.
Your mind will drift to other parts of the body. Do you understand? When the Buddha preached mindfulness of breathing (ānāpānasati), He described sixteen steps. It was taught in sixteen stages. Of those, you can only practice the first step here. If a normal person were to attempt all sixteen steps, it would generally take more than a year to complete. The first step is: so sato va assasatti, so sato va passasatti—mindfully he breathes in, mindfully he breathes out. Say it and see: "Mindfully, I breathe out."
All right? What is mandatory here? Keeping the back straight is mandatory. You must keep your spine perpendicular to the ground; otherwise, it is difficult. Also, do not lean too far back or too far forward. Keep it perfectly straight. Even if you sit on a chair, do not lean against the backrest. Those who have physical ailments should stay in the chairs. Most of our group here do not have such ailments. Sit in the chair and keep your back straight. I am saying that those with ailments should not try to sit on the floor. Those of you in chairs, stay there, but keep your back straight. Later, you might find a different chair here, or you could sit on these steps, or even a desk—a desk is fine too. Sitting on the floor is not mandatory for this. What is mandatory is keeping your back straight. Is that clear?
Next, remember that mindfulness of breathing (ānāpānasati) cannot be practiced while standing up. Walking meditation (caṅkama) can be done while standing or moving. Loving-kindness meditation (mettā) can also be done that way. But do not attempt mindfulness of breathing while standing; you might feel faint and collapse. Why? Because when the mind focuses intently on the breath, the body suddenly relaxes and may fall. Therefore, this meditation of mindfulness of breathing is special. It is practiced only while sitting. That is how it is recommended. Is that understood?
In this practice, whether you are educated or uneducated is of no consequence. None of that matters here. All that is relevant is your ability to be aware of your breath moving in and out. Listen carefully. It does not matter how learned you are, whether you are a farmer, an engineer, a doctor, or even a monk. What matters is simply the extent to which you can naturally perceive the breath flowing in and out. I will now explain three methods. You must use only one of these three. All right?
Now, close your eyes. Without forcing the breath, observe where you feel the sensation of the breath. Do not try to breathe forcefully. Do not squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Just close them gently, enough to block out the light, and observe where the breath is felt.
Mm. All right, open your eyes now. Where did you feel it? Ah, you feel the air touching the skin right here. Raise your hand only if you felt it there—do not raise it just for show. If you feel it at the rim of the nostrils, then do not try to feel the breath anywhere else. Focus right there. That means as the breath moves in and out, you keep your attention fixed on that spot.
The Buddha provided a simile for this. Imagine a watchman—a gatekeeper. He does not allow anyone to enter or leave without inspection. That is to say, as soon as someone approaches, he knows. He knows, "Someone is entering here," and "Someone is leaving here." He does not follow the person inside to see what they do, nor does he follow them outside after they leave. Yet, nothing passes without being checked by him. What did I say? That is the simile.
This means if your point of focus is here, that is where you place your mindfulness (sati). You are aware of the touch as the breath enters, and you are aware of the touch as it leaves. It touches here when entering, and it touches here when leaving. Is that clear? That is all there is to it. You do not follow the breath deep inside, nor do you follow it outside.
Next, as you attempt to do this, because of your habits—the mind naturally gravitates toward what it is used to—your mind will inevitably drift into thoughts. It will go to your home, to that other thing, to the floods, or to the time you spent looking at your phone. When that happens, do not give those thoughts any attention. You must instantly bring your focus back to this spot.
The Buddha gave a simile for this as well. Imagine there are rice fields on both sides of a path. A cowherd is leading a strong young calf or ox. The ox constantly tries to stray into the fields on either side to eat the crops. However, using his strength and effort (vīrya), the cowherd holds it back and prevents it from going there.
Similarly, what you have to do today is a task more difficult than splitting firewood. The mind will wander to the past and the future, to various thoughts. But you must strive not to let it go to those two extremes, but to be aware of only this. This is what is called the meditation subject (kammaṭṭhāna). The meditation subject is simply this. All that matters to you is observing this sensation of touch.
If a person can remain in this state for just five minutes—meaning, if they can stay without drifting to other objects for five minutes—then after that, it is not difficult for them. From that point on, whether I tell them to or not, they will continue to do it. It is after that point that one begins to feel the greatest happiness in this world. The breath has the power to take us to a happiness that cannot be found by touching any physical, sensual object.
That is the journey you are about to begin. However, for the first five minutes, you must remain focused right there without letting the mind wander to anything else. That means knowing every single breath as it enters and leaves, perceiving it right at that spot. It is only when it touches here that you feel it. It is body consciousness (kāya-viññāṇa) that senses it. If a person can stay with it for five minutes without wandering, it means this meditation is not difficult for them. Why? Because even if their mind drifts away after that, they can instantly bring it back to this spot. Mastering that first minute is the hardest part. Why? Because if I tell you to do it now, you might start doing it. But the moment you let go, the mind naturally reverts to its old habits.
Therefore, you must break that habit. Also, do not eat too much. If you eat a heavy meal, you will not be able to meditate during the day. Is that clear? Take only a very small amount of food. As you progress in this meditation, you will find that you won't need much food anyway. Is that understood?
Next, along with this, I will also teach you walking meditation (caṅkama bhāvanā). Because if your mind is scattered to the point where you feel confused and overwhelmed, it is better to open your eyes and practice walking meditation. I will explain that next.
Now, for the second group—those who did not feel the sensation at the nose. Those who felt it there, continue with that. For the others, observe how the breath goes in and the abdomen expands and contracts. Is that clear? That too is simply knowing the inhalation and exhalation. Those who can feel it at the nose should not try to observe the abdomen. You can keep your eyes open for now. The others, those who do not feel it at the nose, listen carefully.
Keep your back straight and focus your attention on the abdomen. It enters... like a balloon, it expands and then contracts. Focus your attention there. Now, close your eyes—those who cannot feel it at the nose. All right. Now, raise your hands if you can feel the movement of the abdomen. Ah, now let's see—between those who feel it at the abdomen and those who feel it at the nose—raise your hands, both groups. Let's see who is left. Is there anyone left?
Ah, not in the middle... I mean, if you don't feel it at the nose or the abdomen. Ah, you feel it here? Ah, in the chest area. Then, be aware of it from there. The others should not go to that spot. If you feel it there, then observe it there. Now, what is important is that whether you perceive it here or there, what you are perceiving is the breath. Even when you perceive it here [at the abdomen], when the breath goes inside during inhalation and exhalation, it moves in two directions.
It goes in and comes out. Here, it expands and contracts. In this process of inhalation and exhalation, the object of focus is important only to unify the mind (ekaggatā). To do what? To keep the mind fixed in one place for a long time; the object itself does not have great significance. You could use loving-kindness (mettā) or the virtues of the Buddha (Buddhānussati) as the object. Any object will do. But those are not necessary right now. It is better to naturally observe the inhalation and exhalation.
Then, I can explain everything through that very practice. Now, what is the first step the Buddha taught in Pali? So sato va assasatti, so sato va passasatti—mindfully he breathes in, mindfully he breathes out. He is mindful of the breath. That means, in our ordinary life, until we die—until that last breath leaves the body at death—we are breathing. However, we are largely unaware of it.
There are sixteen steps described regarding this breath. But you must master this first step thoroughly. You must make the second step become manifest naturally. What did I say? Master the first step. That means if the foundation is laid well, you can build many stories upon it. It is the same with breathing in and out mindfully. That means if you can observe every single breath without missing one for about fifteen minutes, the second step will naturally begin to manifest for you.
The next step is: dīghaṃ vā assasanto dīghaṃ assasāmīti pajānāti, dīghaṃ vā passasanto dīghaṃ passasāmīti pajānāti—breathing in long, he discerns, "I am breathing in long"; breathing out long, he discerns, "I am breathing out long." I will explain that on the last day. To practice the other steps, one must be in it for the long haul. That means for someone who practices this very thing morning, noon, and night, the subsequent steps will become clear.
I will tell you this just so you know: starting with the breath is like embarking on a journey through the entire universe. Happiness, rapture (pīti), seeing past lives, understanding things according to karma—all of these will be encountered as you progress.
There is no point in explaining them now; it would be a useless task. These things should be taught to someone who dedicates their entire life to this practice. I have done this for about two years, doing nothing else but this. Then, it is just this and nothing else. So, if someone is willing to dedicate themselves like that, then they can be taught at the appropriate stages. Is that clear? You have come here temporarily, to meditate for these four days. So, during these few days, you cannot use your phones. Have the phones been collected? Do not ask for them back until you leave; you will get them on the day of departure.
Now, your primary meditation subject (mūla kammaṭṭhāna) is... what is it? It is mindfulness of breathing (ānāpānasati). I know from experience that your mind will not easily allow you to sit there and do this. For someone who has practiced and mastered even five minutes of it, it won't be a problem. They are already accustomed to it. They can do it well for an hour, two hours, or even three. But for the rest of you, for those just starting, your own mind will not easily grant you that space.
The mind will make you do all sorts of things. It will make you want to stand up; it will create pain here, pain there. It will not let you stay with the object. So, if you find it difficult to stay with just that one practice, I will teach you a second one. This one you must do.
There is space here, so without disturbing others, you can practice walking meditation (caṅkama). To help with the sitting practice, what do you do? You stand up and walk. Now, you stand up from there... look, this is also very easy. Walk to that point. Walk from there towards this light. Now, you must not pay attention to anything else; give your attention only to the soles of your feet touching the ground. Walk with that attention. Do not walk fast; walk at a normal pace.
All right, stop right there. Now, did you feel every step? No? You must go while being aware of every single one. If your mind wanders, you must stop. Did you feel it? Ah, just like that.
There is nothing complicated in that either. There is nothing to study. When our foot touches the ground, there is a feeling, a sensation. Touch this tile now. Just as you feel the tile, you feel the sensation when your foot touches the ground. You do not pay attention to anything else. You do not pay attention to the sounds around you. You do not give much attention to stray thoughts. You stay with that feeling.
Do not walk fast. When you walk slowly, you can perceive it. You can do this for 10, 15, or 20 minutes. There is space outside as well. You can walk in other places here; there is a small path separated for this. When the men move from here, there will be more space, and there is space over there too.
When you walk, do not focus on other things; focus only on the foot touching the ground. It is like when you place your hand here—you feel only that sensation. That is what is important. Go with that. Then, you will feel that the agitation in your mind has lessened. Then, go back, close your eyes, and practice mindfulness of breathing. Go to your seat, keep your back straight, and again direct your attention here [to the breath]. Struggle with it for about half an hour.
If you get tired and the mind becomes agitated again, then go back to walking meditation. What do you do? Walk again for about 15 minutes. These two practices help each other. The walking helps to reduce the restless nature of the mind. Then, that helps you to be aware of the breath.
So, that is all there is to it. That is the life of a yogi (meditator). You live with what is felt. With what? With what is felt. And even then, we do not use too many sensations because it would be troublesome. We use the breath and the sensation of the foot touching the ground. Does anyone need to study to do this? No. Because we usually wear slippers and such, we don't feel it much. But when you walk barefoot, you feel it well.
So, this is what we have for these four days. What you are doing now is calming the mind (samatha). What are you trying to do? To calm it down.
Then, in the evening, I will come and deliver a sermon on the teachings of the Buddha. That is called Insight (vipassanā). I will explain some details about that to help with your tranquility meditation. That will help you understand your sense of self, this foolishness of ours. So, calming the mind throughout the day will perhaps help you listen attentively to the evening sermon. Prepare your mind for that too.
All right, that is all. That is what I had to explain. So, what is the work of a yogi? Not going to the past, not going to the future, but living in this moment. Since it is difficult to live in this moment just like that, I gave you two techniques. One is to live in this moment using the breath. The second, if the mind does not allow that, is to walk systematically without disturbing others.
Therefore, do not engage in conversation. If you do, you become a disturbance to the others who have come here. These are your two duties. You will get to eat at the scheduled times. Do not go to sleep immediately after. From tomorrow, you will be given a timetable for washing clothes, bathing, and so on. Follow the timetable and do your work accordingly.
I will come for the evening sermon for about an hour. Then, I will explain insight (vipassanā) and tranquility (samatha) separately. All right then.
Original Source (Video):
Title: "සමාහිත සිත" පළමු විපස්සනා භාවනා වැඩසටහන | පුජ්ය තිත්තගල්ලේ ආනන්දසිරි හිමි
https://youtu.be/YkqML5xPOrU?si=jKSTg4jtyOIdu0YW
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.
This blog does not seek to promote or endorse any specific personal views that may be expressed by the original speaker. The content is shared solely for the purpose of encouraging reflection and deeper understanding of the Dhamma.
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