One of the most important questions we can ask ourselves is this: ‘What can I rely upon?’ When we look closely we will see that there is only one answer: our wisdom.
To try to depend on anything else is a recipe for disaster. Wealth, youth, health, status, people, emotions: they are all, by their nature, unreliable. Yet we still cling, we still attach, we still dawdle blindly along without considering that sooner or later they will fall.
But with wisdom we remain detached. We clearly perceive the undependable nature of all things in this world. Ironically, it is this understanding that is dependable. To see impermanence, as Ajahn Chah said, is to see that which is permanent. To understand that we cannot depend on these things is to find that which we can depend on. Seeing and knowing thus we live in perfect harmony with the true nature of things – touching the moment, at ease, not forming attachments, continually letting go.
To understand impermanence is desirable; but it takes training. We can’t just decide one day: ‘Right! I’m going to start seeing things as being impermanent.’ We are heavily conditioned beings, unable to flip our views over as easily as we can turn our hand. To change our mind takes patience, perseverance, concentration and, most importantly, investigation.
Investigation is the second of the Seven Factors of Enlightenment, coming immediately after mindfulness. Here we see how the development of mindfulness is not an end in itself – not just a mundane coping tool – but a preliminary step leading us into the realm of investigation and beyond.
A detective committed to uncovering the truth of a crime won’t settle for a casual look at the evidence; he will take his magnifying glass and examine that evidence – probing, investigating and considering it until he understands it. In the same way we take up the powerful magnifying glass of focused awareness to uncover the truth of our experiences – probing, investigating and considering them until we understand them.
This investigation is to be developed at all times. We should turn our awareness to whatever we experience, without taking anything for granted. When we experience depression we should take a good look and ask: ‘What is this?’ Look closely and examine it – you will see it is not a static thing. Happy moods must not escape this penetrating gaze either: ‘Is this permanent or impermanent?’ And, most importantly: ‘Can I depend on this?’ Step back, give rise to perspective and wisdom, and let go.
We can also gain insight by turning our beam of awareness to pain. When we are experiencing a painful feeling we must resist the habitual reaction to avoid it and instead direct unwavering attention towards it. Doing this we will soon see that the problem is not the pain. The problem is our mind.
What is pain? Look closely, investigate, examine. Ask yourself:
‘Where is the pain?
It’s in my knee.
But where exactly in my knee?’
You won’t be able to find it. As soon as you think you have located it, it shifts. So you follow it with the persistence of a treasure-hunter who senses gold: ‘Where’s the pain? Where’s the pain? Where‘s the pain?’ But all the time it eludes your efforts, moving and shifting, expanding and contracting, appearing and disappearing. Eventually it dawns on you that there is no such thing as ‘pain’.
And this is how it is with all of our experiences. The sight of a strawberry, the sound of a blackbird, the smell of a pink rose, the feeling of joy bubbling in our veins: they are all shifting and changing and we cannot put our finger on any of them and say that is that.
But we don’t normally see this. We live in a world of labels: the sound of a car, the smell of a roast potato, the blade of grass, you, me and the dog. We put our experiences in convenient boxes. But these boxes don’t really exist. There is only the river of change.
By continually investigating our experiences insight gradually accumulates. The question of how much concentration we need in order to develop insight has been argued over for two thousand years and I don’t feel like joining in. Ajahn Chah was very clear on this, however: you do not need a great deal to begin with – just enough. Indeed, he went so far as to say it may not be wise to develop concentration that is too deep. 1
Some people, he said, incline towards developing powerful states of peace and unification of mind, but they lack wisdom. We hear of monks soaring to the heights of the eighth jhana, but still falling for visions of women, thinking: ‘We’ve been lovers in a previous life! We were meant to be together!’ And then they throw in the towel and run off for a bit of rumpy-pumpy. 2
Of course, such high states of concentration can be used to develop liberating wisdom – the Buddha’s own experience being the prime example – and without any concentration wisdom simply cannot arise. But deep concentration does not bring wisdom automatically.
Then, said Ajahn Chah, there are those people whose minds do not easily lend themselves to deep concentration, but who have inherent wisdom. They use this wisdom to probe and investigate, to turn things over, to dig deeper and deeper into their experiences, gradually uncovering the truth of things. 3
So probe, investigate, examine. Don’t let anything go by without contemplating change. When we understand impermanence everything else will fall into place and all of our troubles will come to an end. We don’t need to read all of the books. We don’t need to spend hours on Buddhist forums. We don’t need to listen to a thousand Dhamma talks. We don’t need to look very far – what you have now will do.
.
.
(1) A Taste of Freedom ‘The Path in Harmony’
(2) Autobiography of a Forest Monk Chapter 22.2
(3) A Taste of Freedom ‘On Meditation’
.
The next teaching will be on
The Half Moon Day, Thursday 10 December
.
Dhamma Diary 
Your Diary helped me a lot to see myself and the world more clearly and thus take a lot of stress from daily life.
The Budda’s teaching is for everybody at any stage of life. Your diary made the teaching easier to understand and practice.
Thanks a lot and please keep up the excellent work.
Thanks. That’s very kind of you.
Tahn Manapo
Dear Tahn Manapo
During a conversation with a friend I was given an impression that she thinks I appear to be emotionless and dull. When I was asked why I should be so, I told her that I’m trying to detach from defilements (albeit unsuccessfully most of the times). Her view on this is that life should be lived to the full, being extreme on both ends – being moved emotionally on positive spectrum (happy, elated) and unavoidably negatively as well. It is, she said, what makes life/living interesting.
I can’t argue with her point about the ‘interesting’ bit which is factual. But I don’t know if I want to be ‘interesting’ for the sake of it. There’s too much suffering.
Do you think some people are, by training or by nature, strong enough to cope with these sufferings that they don’t have to worry about detaching from defilements?
Hello Anusarin
People need to have some insight into suffering before they will do anything about it. It doesn’t sound like she has too much.
It is often said that the emotions/up and downs etc. etc. are ‘what being human is all about.’… Well, that’s right. But being human is all about suffering as well.
And we always have to ask ourselves why we want to detach – because it brings a far superior happiness to the happiness of attachment.
The Buddha said that if you see a greater happiness you should leave behind the lesser happiness. That’s what we’re doing.
You ask whether it is because they are strong that they don’t see the need to detach. I’d again probably say it’s a case of them not having much insight. It isn’t a question of strength. When we have a degree of insight we are more aware of suffering and its causes.
Tahn Manapo