Our motivation for samadhi increases as we sense the possibilities of the fruits of practice. The more we sense the interconnectedness of life, the more we want to understand what seems to separate us from everything else, and the more we see the need to stabilize our mind in order to discover that fact. The crucial link is that the practice sustains itself through the direct perception of interconnection, and for most people that requires a stable mind. Samadhi is now being used within the whole of the Eightfold Path, supported by Wise View, Wise Intention, and Wise Effort.
Another supportive component of samadhi that is often overlooked is the understanding and realization of the need for a stable mind. We are not creating stability because it is written in a text or because someone we admire told us it was important; we are doing this because we feel the need. This is extremely important because the focused mind is supported by its critical motivation. Our focused energy is governed by our intent and purpose, and we stabilize the mind in proportion to our need to do so.
A component of this steadying attention is the development of faith. Faith is distinguished by a relaxed attitude to the presentations of the mind. The faith-mind is undefended and confident within the complete array of mental phenomena, and is no longer afraid of what the mind contains. The faith-mind understands that thinking does not characterize life, and remains independent and stable as thought moves through the mind.
When there is complete rest and no mental movement, awareness senses what cannot move and has never moved, the absolute reality from which all relative reality arises. One teacher calls this “the Dazzling Dark.” The Buddha speaks about this in the following passage: “There is a state where form ceases to exist. It is a state without ordinary perception and without disordered perception and without the lack of perception and without any annihilation of perception. It is perception, consciousness, that is the source of all the basic obstacles.” Because the Dazzling Dark is the essence of all things, it can never be known through the mind; it can be sensed, but not through the senses. If we are completely still, the body/ mind intimates something beyond itself, hints at something dark and mysterious that gives rise to everything.
The space that holds thought has always been present, but it cannot be sensed while we are grasping at each new concept. Cultivating concentration does nothing to the space itself; it simply allows the mind to extricate itself from identification with thought. If we look at what happens when the mind loses its sense of space and becomes embedded within a thought, we see nothing really happens at all. A thought is not something in and of itself; it is just an idea, just words moving through the mind. When any thought is held within the space of the mind, and each word is allowed to end without pointing anywhere, the thought dissolves into space. Thought has no legitimate reality except the power the mind gives the idea. Release the idea, and it all returns to space.
A steady mind is quiet, and from that stillness observes the movement of life. If this steadiness is met with the primary intention, there will be a knowing when the self appears. This knowing quality is inherent to awareness itself and does not have to be trained. If I were to pass my hand between you and what you are observing, you would know something just happened. That knowing is not the product of thought but of directly seeing. We simply need to be sufficiently quiet so we will not confuse this purer knowing with the mind’s narration.
Since our being and life are not two different events, life can never be known for what it truly is, only for what the mind makes it as it fractures life into an objective experience. To counter the tendency of mind to objectify life into something through the conclusions it forms, an authentic spiritual path eliminates all constructions of mind by questioning those formations. A question breaks down the very construction the mind is attempting to place between itself and the world. A question invites innocence and renewal; it invites a new way of looking that is free of past contamination. When we question, we do not know the answer and are genuinely open to whatever is revealed. The sense-of-self forms conclusions because it fears living within the ambiguity of a question. Questions are moments of wonderment but do not provide the security of assurance that the self seeks. As we journey along our spiritual path, we become more willing to move from mental certainty to the open amazement of not knowing.
There is a threshold of ignorance necessary for a three-dimensional self to form, but in the unencumbered immediacy of Now that threshold is never reached. If there is any flinching from Now, the story springs back to life because that flinch is a movement of thought away from Now and a return to the horizontal truth of “me.”
It is important that students bring a certain ragamuffin, barefoot irreverence to their studies. They are not here to worship what is known, but to question it.—JACOB BRONOWSKI
This examination of the truth of the story-of-me can only be done in the immediacy of Now, at the juncture of the horizontal and vertical dimensions. It can only be accomplished through the trust of interconnectedness. Here and only here will the story end. “My” story can be modified from the horizontal dimension, but not invalidated. To nullify the story we must see the fabrication of the storyteller. The story, if it is observed to its end, will terminate with the uprooting of its central character, and that can only be accomplished through the light of the vertical dimension, in the immediacy of Now.
Realization moves past the words and images that have formed “us” within our story, jumps into the abyss, and becomes nothing—lives the nothing it once feared becoming. Faith, not will, guides this step. This is not the blind faith that God will catch us as we fall, but the recognition that there is nothing left to become.
When pure perception is forced into an exact definition by confining it to a word (in this case, “robin”), the sense-of-self arises in that moment. The sense-of-self and the word are mutually dependent upon one another, but it feels as if “I am experiencing a robin.” More specifically, the self arises with the knowledge that the sound is a robin. Knowledge requires a knower, and the self is the mental overlay onto the perception. The self is not inherent in the sound or in the perception, but through knowledge the mind attempts to make the perception that is intrinsically empty into something, in this case a bird.
There is the story of a man who goes to the Buddha and asks him, “If each separate sense-door (smelling, seeing, tasting, etc.) does not connect to the other, what holds all the senses in a single body?” The Buddha replies, “The mind holds all the senses.” All the senses arrive into the mind and can be observed from the mind. “Ah,” says the man. “What then holds the mind?” The Buddha says, “The mind is held by awareness.” Awareness can see everything in the mind. Finally the man asks the Buddha, “What holds awareness?” The Buddha replies, “Awareness is held by the unconditioned.” 2 Awareness has no conditional basis for seeing, and therefore does not see from memory.
All of this presupposes the basic Buddhist teaching and truth of anatta. This concept is at the heart of the Eightfold Path and will be explored thoroughly in the next chapter. Learning anatta intellectually is not the point; anatta is to be realized, ingested, and completely integrated into every facet of our life. The spiritual journey only makes sense from anatta, and if we move from any other direction the sense-of-self builds upon its accomplishments and ultimately frustrates our desire for freedom. Once we have aligned our practice with anatta, all our energy goes into correcting our misperceptions, and the path unfolds in a straightforward manner.
Discerning the difference between thinking about something and directly experiencing it is the function of samadhi. Through the quiet, abiding attention of samadhi, we see clearly how the self comes into being through the commentary we infuse and the narrative we create.
Mindfulness eventually becomes redefined through nondoing and relaxation, and nondoing validates everything. When our ambition toward promoting our mindfulness has ceased, we begin to rest in what is naturally available. Mindfulness effortlessly moves into an abiding awareness, which maintains itself in our absence.
We cannot delay fully embracing the moment. To do so maintains the divisions within the mind, the division between the mind and the body, and the division between the organism and its environment. All divisions are attempts to keep us from the truth of what is right here. When this is understood by the sincere practitioner, there can be no more hesitation, no more postponement, and no more pulling back and waiting for a more opportune time. It is literally now or never. Breaking this hesitation allows psychic energy to flow into the moment, and transforms our ordinary existence into the sacred. Suddenly the Buddha is found in the middle of relationships, work, and family, within all activities, reactions, thoughts, and emotional responses. Nothing is outside Now because no boundary is drawn to separate Now from then. The message of the Buddha is equally relevant in all locations and at all times. Until this is fully realized and until there is no movement to escape this environment for a better spiritual setting, we will continue to suffer.
We can pull out of any question, at any time, at any level, and our personal story is always there to catch our fall. Our narrative holds all our explanations, but it has no wonder. The sincere spiritual question does not stop until there is wonder. The question drops like a stone into a pool of water and keeps falling, moving toward greater stillness and a bottomless wonder. All along the way our fear-boundaries are exposed until we stand defenseless against the question.
Though questioning requires a platform of stability, it threatens that stability as well. The paradox is that we can only move forward when our security is threatened, because we are never further from the truth than when we are certain. Ignorance can be detected within the conclusion of any position. When we conclude a final answer, life is no longer in movement and has become fixed within our mind. Certainty often indicates guardedness and fear, and depicts a boundary we refuse to cross.
Questions are free to roam beyond areas of self-inflicted pain, and can be driven by a simple interest, a point of curiosity, or the urge to understand. What all spiritual questions have in common is the compelling force of discovery, the willingness to put aside everything for the sake of wonderment, and the reluctance to be satisfied with a secondhand answer from our intellect. Questioning is relentless, but not armored or violent, and will go anywhere, in innocence, wondering freely, and quiet unto itself.
