Half-Moon Day: Training the Mind
April 28, 2008

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With our meditation and mindfulness practice we are training to develop a mind that remains firmly in the present moment. It is in this present moment that the work is done and it is in this present moment that we will emerge victorious over our suffering.
The results of this practice creep up on you. One of the small ways in which I notice this in myself is when people who have been staying here at the Hermitage leave. Sometimes they may have been here for two days, sometimes for two years. But no matter how long they have been staying for, as soon as that person has gone it is as though they were never here. (Ultimately speaking of course, they never were.) This reduction in attachment has become more noticeable over time.
Now you may put this down to a terrible memory, or you may put it down to the training. When we are continually establishing our mind in the present then the past and future lose their weight. Training in mindfulness and concentration also means that we do not give meaning to our our experiences; we begin to see them as they are: void and insubstantial, “just as a mirage”, in the words of the Buddha. By living in this way non-attachment naturally becomes established in the mind.
With our concentration we must be trying to continually rein the mind in. With our mindfulness in every day activity we must also be continually reining the mind in. By doing this we’re are developing a crucial foundation stone on which we can begin to really start doing the work of the Dhamma.
When we meditate it’s like we are training to walk a stray dog. When you walk a dog you use the command: “HEEL”. This indicates that the dog should stay by your side as you walk - by your heel. Say you are walking the unruly dog in a field and he is by your side. Soon he starts to creep forward and before you know it he’s run off and he’s chasing a rabbit. “HEEEEL!” you shout. The dog looks around and returns to your side. Then you continue to walk saying: “Heel, heel…” and the dog remains by your side. But then he starts to creep forward and again he’s off! This time charging after a deer! “HEEEEL!!!”. Ooops, he really got away that time. But eventually he hears your yelling and returns. “Good boy” you say.
And so this process continues. He runs off, you shout. Sometimes he disappears for hours on end and returns just at the end of the walk! But soon enough, after being persistent in training him, each time he returns to you he stays by your side for a little longer than the previous time. Your training is having an effect. He also doesn’t run off so far when he does go. Eventually he becomes a truly obedient dog and rarely even creeps forwards. If he does then you just gently say “heel”. But what’s really special is that when a deer or a rabbit appears in front of him now, he stays fixed to your side and dispassionately observes the wild animal pass in front of him.
Our minds are just like this dog. When we begin to meditate the mind may run off and chase a thought or a memory. As with the dog it may run off for most of the sitting! But we keep training it; we keep patiently and persistently reining it in and re-focussing it on the breath, or whatever our meditation object is. “Heel” we say to the mind. And just as with the dog it sooner or later begins to run off less and less. And when it does run off it doesn’t go very far. When it becomes exceptionally trained, the mind, as with the dog and the wild animals, dispassionately observes the thoughts and the feelings that previously would have taken its attention.
Our everyday practice of mindfulness is the same. We must establish the vehicle of mindfulness that will carry us through our activities. This is usually the body. Train your mind to keep coming back to your body. Just as with the dog your mind will run off, possibly for long periods. You’re doing the washing up and you realise your mind has legged it after a memory or some thought. As soon as you realise, shout at it: “GET HERE YOU!” “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOU NAUGHTY MIND!” When a dog runs off it sometimes goes and rolls in horse muck and comes back stinking! So when the mind has run off it may go and roll in some negative thoughts and emotions and come back stinking of suffering. Don’t let it do that! You keep a careful eye on the mind, making sure it doesn’t run off. You keep your attention on the simple process of washing up. You are aware as you stretch, as you bend, as you turn, and so on. You develop this unbroken awareness of the body’s activity; mindfulness flowing from one action to another. The mind connects with each and every action. If the mind starts wandering again you say “HEEL!”, and it comes back. And so it goes on.
Now doing all of this takes patience; but it is very important that we do it. It will mean an awful lot later on. Remember that this is not an end in itself, but a means to an end. It’s true that conducting ourselves in this way transforms our experience of life beyond recognition, but it is where it will eventually take us that is the most important thing.
The mind that is firmly established in the present is capable of developing wisdom. The present moment is where we will solve every single problem that we have. The mind that is on this point will not have any problems. Remember what happened when the well trained dog saw the deer and the rabbit? It was unmoved and it simply watched them go by. This is what happens in our minds when they are well trained. The mind stays firmly and obediently in the present and remains undisturbed as thoughts and feelings arise. It simply watches them come into being and pass away; it observes the rise and fall of all phenomena in the mind.
We must resolutely develop this present moment awareness! Don’t look anywhere else! Every problem and every experience of suffering arises in the mind. When we are established in the present then we are right there when that state arises. We then have a chance to stop the suffering.
When you firmly and unwaveringly establish mindfulness in the present moment then nothing else can gain a footing in the mind. A bad mood arises and ‘bop’ - mindfulness hits it on the head. A worry about the future arises and immediately - ‘bop’ - mindfulness knocks it down. You are there when happiness arises and you are there when suffering arises, right at the point where they come up. You know them and you don’t allow the mind to be swept away by them.
By developing in this way we will come to clearly know every state, whether good or bad, that arises in the mind. Eventually we will come to see the rise and fall of these things and the mind will remain in its natural and sublimely peaceful state. Now this type of awareness may not be far away, we just need to train our present moment awareness - our mindfulness.
Sometimes we cannot help but get caught in a really bad mood though. But don’t despair. Don’t get angry. Just get to know that mood. Don’t be afraid of it. Look at it and examine it. Keep looking at everything that arises in the mind: good, bad and indifferent. If it’s a blurry, slurry, hazy state of mind – know it as a blurry, slurry, hazy state of mind. Get to know every movement of your mind. If you find that you can’t sometimes, don’t worry, just keep trying. You will be developing your awareness without realising it.
And so by degrees we develop this present moment knowing. Without the practice we just suffer and we have no perspective on our minds. As we develop, the suffering reduces as we become progressively more aware of the things that arise in the mind. As we become more aware we begin to see the rise and fall of these phenomena. We keep developing the knowing and the razor sharp present moment awareness and we get closer and closer to the point where those states arise. With this razor sharp mindfulness we stay at that point and simply observe everything arising and passing away right there.
By diligently practising in this way, with the mind rooted in virtue and concentration, we will eventually come to observe the rise and fall of all conditioned things and the mind will experience the bliss of Nibbana.
So, keep training the mind to be in the present. There’s nothing else to do!
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Note: This is just as much a teaching to myself as it is to you.
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The next teaching in Dhamma Diary will be on:
The New-Moon Day, Sunday, 4th May
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Full Moon Day: The Rise and Fall
April 20, 2008
I walked twenty miles yesterday and my knees are knackered so I’ve only got a little offering for you today.
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The following is my version of a story found in the Buddhist scriptures. In the original, the various teachings that the enquiring monk received weren’t quite as I have recorded them as I couldn’t find the text, but you’ll see that that aspect isn’t important.
The story relates how a monk went in search of a teacher who would be able to expound the Dhamma in a way that he could easily grasp and put into practice. He went from one eminent monk to another, seeking a practice that would suit him.
The first monk told him to watch the rise and fall of the thirty-two parts of the body. “Hmmmm…” Thought the new monk. “That seems like rather a lot of things to observe. Let’s see if another monk can teach me something a little less complicated.”
So off he went to another monk. “Venerable sir, could you please teach me the Dhamma in a way that is easy to grasp and put into practice?”
“Certainly, friend.” Replied the monk. “You should watch the rise and fall of the twelve links of dependent origination.“
“That’s a lot less things to watch.” Thought the new monk. “But I would rather it wasn’t quite as many as that.”
So off he trotted to yet another very senior and wise disciple of the Buddha, and he questioned the monk as he had the previous two.
“You must watch the rise and fall of the seven factors of enlightenment.” Said the wise monk. “By doing so you will undoubtedly find that which you seek.”
“Seven things to observe. It’s getting better. But I wonder if those monks sitting over there can teach me a method that is easier to grasp than that?”
“You should watch the rise and fall of the six senses.”
“Hmmm…”
“You should watch the rise and fall of the five khandhas.”
“Hmmm…”
“You should watch the rise and fall of the four noble truths.”
“Hmmm…”
“You should watch the rise and fall of the three characteristics.”
“Hmmm…”
Not content with the various replies he received he at last went to see what the Buddha had to say.
“Lord, I went in search of a teacher who could instruct me in such a way that I would be able to easily understand the Dhamma and put it into practice. The first monk told me to watch the rise and fall of this, but there were too many things to watch so I went to another teacher and he told me to watch the rise and fall of that, but still there were many things to watch. Lord, would you please give me a teaching that I can easily understand and put into practice, so that I can achieve the results that I desire?”
“Foolish man!” Replied the Buddha. “Don’t you understand what these monks are telling you? — WATCH THE RISE AND FALL.”
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The next teaching will be on:
The Half Moon Day, Monday, 28th April
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Half Moon Day: The Five Indriya, Part 1.
April 13, 2008
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The Five Spiritual Faculties, Part 1
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Here we go again - another Part One!
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This is going to be a brief piece on one of my favourite sets of teachings: The Five Spiritual Faculties (Indriya).
“There are five spiritual faculties that, when maintained in being and developed, merge in the deathless, reach to the deathless and end in the deathless. What five? They are the faculties of confidence, energy, mindfulness, samadhi and wisdom.”
S.48:57 *1.
As well as this list showing us five qualities that are essential to our progression on the path, it is laid out in such a way so that we can understand how they must be developed in harmony, with each balancing one another. For now I’m going to focus on this principle of balance.
Our deluded minds easily swing from one extreme to the other: from straining too much to gain concentration, to slumping back and allowing our mind to have a free run; from being launched into the clouds with inspiration, to being buried in the ground with despair. Faith or confidence must be balanced with wisdom, and energy or vigour must be balanced with samadhi. And where does our good friend mindfulness fit into this equation? Mindfulness, like a king on his throne, sits in the middle and watches over his four subjects, ensuring that balance is maintained.
To help us understand this balancing act we can picture two sets of scales in our minds. On the first set we have confidence or faith on one side and wisdom on the other, with mindfulness as the pivot.. On the second set we have energy on one side and samadhi on the other, with mindfulness again as the pivot. These scales show us where we need to apply the principle of balance. Notice how mindfulness is the pivotal point for both pairs. Mindfulness is the king of the practice; it watches over us, keeps things in order, applies effort when it is needed and reduces it when it is not. It notices when a quality is lacking and when one is in excess.
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Wisdom Must Balance Confidence.
It seems that real wisdom is in no danger of being developed to excess as wisdom is wisdom. You can’t have too much of that! But confidence can outweigh wisdom sometimes when it starts to mutate into dogmatic views and blind belief. Wisdom is then flung off the scales altogether and is nowhere to be seen!
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Confidence / Faith
Confidence in this context primarily means confidence in the Buddha and his Teachings, and in one’s ability to follow the Eightfold path successfully. It is an indispensable part of this path for many reasons, not least because we are aiming for that state which is entirely outside of this conditioned and unsatisfactory experience of ours – that is – Nibbana: the unconditioned, the further shore, the deathless.
As Buddhists we triumphantly hold above our heads as a footballer the World Cup Trophy the fact that the Buddha warned against blind belief. We are so proud that he encouraged us to investigate, to probe and to examine what he was saying. There’s this amazing story in the scriptures which runs as follows:
There was a famous millionaire layman called Upali. He was a follower of another religion and he was sent to meet the Buddha in order to argue with him and convert him. But after talking with the Buddha he was so impressed that he decided to become a Buddhist. But the Buddha said:
“Make a proper investigation first, proper investigation is good for a well-known person like yourself.”
“Now I am even more pleased and satisfied when the Lord says to me ‘Make a proper investigation first.’ For if members of another religion had secured me as a disciple they would have paraded a banner all around the town saying ‘Upali has joined our religion.’ But the Lord says to me: ‘Make a proper investigation first, proper investigation is good for a well-known person like yourself.’
MII 379 *2
We come to Buddhism and we find the Buddha saying: “Don’t just believe what I say.” And what does that do? It give us tremendous confidence! When we hear the religious dogma spewed out by some people we shudder. They tell us not to question, not to probe, not to investigate. And what does that do? It makes us question, it makes us probe, it makes us investigate! And what happens when we do that? The brittle facade which depends on blind belief cracks and crumbles and comes tumbling down. But the Buddha knew that if we probed his teachings we would find nothing wrong with them.
And so on encountering Buddhism our confidence is immediately aroused. We then begin to follow the instructions and meditate and consequently we experience results; our confidence is beginning to be verified, and on being verified it grows. And so we continue to apply effort; having gained results already it seems logical that if we pursue the training the results will keep coming. So the confidence we are talking about here is firmly rooted in wisdom – we begin to ‘know for ourselves’ and confidence in the Dhamma arises. This confidence propels us forwards. We need this confidence. It fuels us as we traverse the periods of difficulty that we inevitably go through. If we don’t have that confidence then we will stop when things don’t go our way. But if we persist with our practice then wisdom eventually deepens, and once again, with the deepening of wisdom our confidence in the path and its effectiveness gains strength.
And so this reciprocal process rolls on: wisdom giving rise to confidence and confidence giving rise to wisdom. They become like a pair of rocket-powered bulldozers that blast through all obstructions. They are a powerful combination! When these factors are of a certain potency (and this goes for all the faculties) it is said they transform into the Five Bala, the Five Powers. When this level is reached we no longer have to strive to develop them; that stage has passed. They now flow by themselves. The five faculties and the mind become one and the same and they soon merge with the deathless.
Once one passes through the first gate of Enlightenment - the stage of Sotapanna, or Stream Entry - then wisdom makes its first substantial triumph by liberating the mind from the first three of the ten fetters: personality view, doubt, and blind attachment to rules and rituals. So we see that with the perfection of a level of wisdom, doubt, the opposite of confidence, is eliminated. And so at the level of Sotapanna our wisdom, and our confidence in the Dhamma and the path leading to it, are unshakeable.
Back to where we’re at! We have a degree of confidence and a degree of wisdom. Now, it is our duty to both develop and maintain balance between the two.
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The Pitfalls of Faith
To have confidence in the Buddha and his teachings is a wonderful thing; if you have it you are very fortunate! But if king mindfulness takes his eyes off this subject for too long then it can get a little out of hand and send us off target. And so we must keep a close eye on it and bring the mind that flies too high with confidence and faith back down to earth with wisdom.
I once knew a monk who was a faith type. His eyes would sparkle with faith whenever he saw a senior monk. He let that outweigh his wisdom though and unfortunately it was a part of his downfall. When faith outbalances wisdom we can forget ourselves. We can become dependent on outside things as sources of confidence and inspiration. We read books and look at pictures and listen to talks and meet great teachers and we are inspired; but this source of confidence is not always reliable and we must be careful to keep it in moderation. If we become dependent on these things then we are liable to crash if one day those things fail to inspire us. We must look within, study within, probe and investigate within; then we will gradually gain the vision of the Dhamma which cannot be taken away from us and which will serve as a powerful and constant source of inspiration. We will then not need outside stimulus.
Anyway, back to that monk. Early on in his monastic life he had the privilege of spending a few days with a quite senior monk. Now this monk, at first glance, was very impressive. He had presence and an unshakeable quality to him. He was inspiring.
A year or so later it became clear that the young monk had invested too much confidence in this monk, and that he had relied on him as a source of inspiration. Because, on hearing the news that the very impressive monk had disrobed, the young monk’s world shook. His faith had been ‘out there’; it had been dependent on unreliable sources. And so when this source ceased to deliver he was deeply shaken, and doubt and uncertainty invaded his mind.
Wisdom comprehends the unreliable nature of all things in this world and enables us to avoid the pitfalls of faith.
So we must not become dependent on external sources for inspiration. Begin to see the Dhamma in your own mind and you won’t go wrong. Our confidence will be verified as we make the Dhamma our own. Even if we were the only person on the planet following this path we could not be diverted.
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JUST DO IT
Confidence is neglected when our questioning and thinking goes beyond its reasonable boundaries and we consequently fail to actually get on with the task at hand. Like the man who was shot by an arrow but refused to have it removed until he knew: who shot it; from what the bow was made; what type of feathers were on the arrow - were they duck, goose, or swan feathers?; from what the bow’s string was made etc, etc. Now, before the man had his questions answered he’d be dead! The Buddha said that the wise man pulls the arrow out. In the same way we each must remove the arrow that is lodged in our minds; the arrow of craving. Any questions?
I used to question deeply, and read philosophical things, and think a lot, and thanks to that I eventually arrived at the golden gates of Buddhism. But on reaching those gates I put the questions, the books and the thoughts down. They had served their purpose and now it was time for me to enter the gates and get on with it. It is so important that we go beyond the theory and the thinking and, having confidence in the Dhamma, as it says in that well known advert – JUST DO IT.
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So that’s just a sketch of two of the Five Indriya. I’ll write about balancing energy and samadhi sometime soon….
*1. From ‘The Life of the Buddha’, Bhikkhu Nanamoli.
*2. From ‘Good Question, Good Answer’, Ven. S. Dhammika.
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The next teaching will be on:
The Full Moon Day, Sunday, 20th April
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Snow!
April 8, 2008
New Moon Day: The Day of the Surfboard
April 5, 2008
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Our family used to spend many a holiday in Cornwall. The particular trip that is the subject of this story coincided with one of my birthdays, possibly my ninth or tenth.
On one of the days we went to visit a favourite beach of ours called Crantock. I remember us standing on the sand near to the dunes as the sea whispered in the distance. I was clutching my shiny new birthday present - a polystyrene surfboard. I was very happy with it.
So there we were, with the sand at our feet and the sun smiling down from the blue dome above, when my little brother asked if he could have a go. He must have been about eight at the time. And he really was very charming - you’d have been melted by his rosy cheeks and squeaky voice. You’d have said yes in a instant. You’d like me to say that I said yes, wouldn’t you? I’d love to say that I said yes as well. But I can’t. Because I didn’t. I said No.
And I recall how as soon as I had said that word it was like a giant steel door slammed shut and everyone present jolted. It is a word that’s of such power and which says so much, yet it’s only two letters long. No. I said no.
I think back now and remember how in that instant the glorious weather, the golden beach and the dreamy sky were suddenly sucked empty. Our happiness was now eclipsed by the dark cloud of my selfishness. My brother started crying; my mother could not believe it. How could I say no? Why didn’t I just let him have a go on the stupid thing. I think they tried to persuade me but I wasn’t going to listen. “How could I have said that?!” I think now.
This memory has not faded over the years. And why is that? Because the stain of selfishness is a stubborn one to remove. I cast my mind back to that time and I feel a little twinge of remorse. Why didn’t I just say yes? It would have been so much for the benefit of us all. We’d have all been smiling and playing on the beach had it not been for that one word.
I say one word, but isn’t there volumes lying concealed behind that. When we say no to someone in this way that heavy door that was open suddenly thunders shut. We say no and we close ourselves off to so much. We say no to the friendship and the generosity of others. If people think of us as a person that doesn’t give a damn about anyone else they will not like us. We stay confined to the dark, dank, cold steel cell of selfishness.
But if we haul that weighty door up and keep it open then the light and warmth of generosity breaks into our little cold cell and we are transformed.
I’m glad that I have this memory of the occasion on the beach. When thinking of it my mind recoils from selfishness as a hair from a flame, and it yearns to be generous. Whenever there is anything I can do to help somebody I usually don’t hesitate to do it. If there is something I can give to someone I relish the chance to give it, no matter how small the thing. As a child the steel door of my cell was closed too often, but now I make an effort to keep it open. It feels wonderful to have the light of generosity shining in.
The Buddha praised and praised and praised again the magnificent virtues of generosity. In a quote that is a personal favourite he said that generosity ‘adorns the mind’. In the world people are so concerned about adorning their bodies, but they rarely consider the need to adorn their minds. They don’t even know how to adorn the mind, or even that it needs adorning. We cast our eyes over the glossy magazines and see those who can afford it displaying their diamond necklaces and Rolex watches. But what is a useless diamond or a Rolex compared to generosity? Nothing. The jewel of giving is infinitely more brilliant and precious. Generous people’s minds shine. Think of a very generous person that you know. Don’t they shine? Aren’t they wonderful people?!
One of the treasured attributes of people from traditional Buddhist countries is their generosity. It is ingrained in their national psyche, and it is almost certainly rooted in the Dhamma. When we heard the news of the tsunami several years ago, we were also treated to the accounts of Thai people who owned so little and yet were prepared to give what they had to help those strangers who were in terrible suffering. I’m sure the people of Burma and Sri Lanka were the same but I didn’t hear of them. Stories like this are very moving.
There used to be a man staying at the monastery who was your archetypal scrooge. I’ve got a fund of stories about him which are bound to pop up from time to time. Anyway, one day he walked into the kitchen here and saw another man who was staying here (carefully avoiding names) unpacking some gifts of food that were generously given by some Thai people. And he frowned and asked the man rustling through the packets why the Thais had given it. “What are they going to get out of it?” he said! (or something like that). He just couldn’t get it. His little steel cell of a mind could not fathom how people could give without any material reward.
The reward is in the giving itself. It makes you feel good for a start. I can clearly remember how I felt on that day on the beach. It was a grim feeling, a heavy and dark feeling that persisted for a long time. Yet I think back to times when I have been generous and joy flows from an inner spring and a smile blossoms on my face. Giving is wonderful, plain and simple!
Generosity is a bridge that spans all differences in views, gender, race and religion. We do not need to justify giving; it doesn’t need explaining. One plus one equals two; generosity equals happiness, that’s what I tell the children at the schools. Allow generosity to flow and you will cast the spell of giving on others and they will begin to give too.
Going back to the story of the surfboard. I got what I deserved you may be glad to hear. Because as I had been such a mean little boy by not letting my lovely brother have a go, my mother went and bought him a new surfboard! And it wasn’t even his birthday! What is the world coming to….
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The next teaching will be on:
The Half Moon Day, Sunday, 13th March.
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