Dhamma is the Pali word for Truth. Dhara means Land. Dhamma Dhara is the name of a Vipassana meditation center I first attended in 2010. From the Red Rose Motel where I had lodged the night before, I hiked along the Mohawk Trail, following the Deerfield River to the Land of Truth. I hiked 12 miles in under 8 hours, shouldering a backpack that weighed about 50 pounds. I heard the meditation would be tough, so I wanted to start off on the right foot- blisters and all.
For 10 days I would observe silence; for 10 days I would sit still and meditate up to 10 hours a day: no books, no diversions, no entertainment. There was a strict code of discipline. Outside communication was prohibited. Men and women were segregated. No alcohol, smoking, or drugs of any kind were permitted. The dress code stressed modesty. Meals were simple and vegetarian. We would be served 2 meals (breakfast and lunch) and fruit for dinner. The day would begin at 4 am and end at 9 pm.
What exactly was I getting myself into?
After preliminaries were delivered, we were assigned a room. I settling in. A bell rang and we made our way to the meditation hall. Once the off-pitch chanting in Pali had begun and we made a formal request for instruction (also in Pali), I realized I was venturing into a strange, new land. Whether this road lead to truth had yet to be determined. But I had surrendered my car keys and had made a solemn pledge to stay- despite the protestations in my head to go.
I felt like I was on a roller coaster clacking slowly up the track of the first hill- anticipation and fear and a little excitement bubbling on the surface of the mind. As the train reaches the top of the hill, I could see the drop and the loops and banking turns ahead and swallow hard as the car starts to accelerate rocket-like down the first slope. But, here's where the analogy falls apart: 1. roller coasts are fun, and 2. rides last about sixty seconds.
I was heading into unknown terrain and needed some reference to orient my steps. By this point, I had been meditating off and on for about 20 years. But this technique was new, and I soon realized that I was neither as disciplined nor as "realized" as I had imagined. My ego and arrogance were threatened.
The strict regimen at the center reminded me of Boot Camp. My military experience helped me settle in and get my bearings. I couldn’t resist comparing and contrasting the two experiences.
When I was a recruit, I appreciated the strict military protocols: the pre-dawn wake ups, the observance of order and cleanliness, the challenges, and the physical training. Like Boot Camp, Vipassana required stamina, mettle, and determination.
One regimen trained men for peace; the other trained men for war. During Basic, I felt camaraderie with the men of my unit; during meditation, I began to feel a kinship with all of suffering humanity. I graduated Basic with an inflated sense of my own strength; I left the meditation retreat humbled. In Basic, we trained to defend the country against all threats and attack all enemies; in meditation, we engaged the mind to pacify the enemy within and transform the hatred, fear, ill will, and anger that warred within us. In Basic, we trained with weapons. On retreat, we battled afflictive mental states, illusions and misperceptions with awareness. Duty, honor, and courage were cultivated in Basic. Equanimity, awareness, and peace were cultivated on retreat.
Both regimens prepared me to face adversity. During Basic, we trained to meet adversity with brute force- with weapons and munitions and tactics. With meditation, we trained to meet suffering with soul force and equanimity and tactics. Both regimens required discipline. In Basic, consequences were meted out by drill sergeants. The meditator, by contrast, would observe the consequences of his own unwholesome thoughts, words, and deeds unfolding first within the mind. The mind would become agitated, the emotions would be stirred, the body would become tense. We learned to observe this unfolding without reacting to it. Meditation stressed a different kind of discipline- self regulation at the root level of mind. The discipline imposed on us during Basic was superficial. As soon as the drill instructors were out of site, some would self medicate with drugs, alcohol, porn, or food. I developed a fondness for alcohol during this chapter of my life. Such diversions were prohibited on retreat where a strict ethical code was enforced. During Basic, we were trained to kill. During meditation, we took vows not to kill or cause to kill any living being. Compassion was deadened in Basic, but extended to all sentient beings during retreat. Both regimens put men face to face with their own mortality. Both regimens brought death to the forefront of consciousness. One stressed camaraderie with the unit, the team, the platoon; the other stressed commonality with all sentient beings.
When I graduated Basic, I was greeted with the approval of everyday civilians who would thank me for my service. There were no medals, no accolades, no parades, no premium parking spots, no military discounts, and no glory for the warrior who battled the enemy within. A man’s own mind could be a far greater enemy than any foe. Hatred, anger, and ignorance robbed us of peace and kept us bound to darkness.
This mental training would prepare me for the battles, suffering and losses that lay ahead.
As of this writing, I have attended 8 retreats since 2010.
In 2019, I sat at a Vipassana center in Amanalco, Mexico- the first center established in Latin America. In 2022, I cycled 150 miles from my home to the center in Shelburne Falls- to the first center in North America. I was responsible for the men's dining facility. I kept it as clean and orderly as any mess hall. A drill sergeant with a white glove would not find a speck of dust or anything out of place. I was intentional. Everything was in order. I wanted meditators to feel like soldiers training for a great battle. Indeed, there is no greater enemy to one's own peace than one's own undisciplined mind.
Order, discipline, and structure are stressed at Dhamma Dhara. A controlled and structured environment promotes inner order and harmony. Most come to the center with untrained minds. Many were educated and "successful" as the world defines these things- engineers, physicians, investors, programmers, CEOs, etc. They had the discipline to pursue degrees, titles, and positions of power, but few could sit still for more than a few minutes without squirming or adjusting their position. This was a whole new level of learning they were not taught in school. After a little more than a week of intense training however, most could sit hour after hour with strong determination (adhitthana).
In neuroscience-speak, we were de-conditioning our minds, training in interoceptive awareness (Holzel, 2008), attentional regulation (Kuzbiel, 2018), emotional balance (Wu et al, 2019), and response inhibition/non-reactivity (Andreu, 2019; Kral et al, 2018). We were restoring the pleasure/pain dopamine balance (Knytl, 2020). In metaphor, we were learning to face our suffering with equanimity. We were working our way out of our self-imposed prisons.
I recently returned from another sit (2024). Attendees were all experienced meditators.
I went much deeper with my practice. To give those insights context, I need to frame it. The clearest standard I have yet found is in the Mahamudra (The Great Path) tradition. In Tibetan Buddhism (On the Training of the Elephant), there are 9 stages. In Zen (On the Training of the Ox), there are 10.
In the Tibetan tradition, imagery is used to elucidate these stages. In the stages of training the mind, we progress from distractibility and restless to calm-abiding and equanimity.
The aspirant is represented by the monk. The mind is represented by the elephant. It is powerful, but untrained. This analogy is not foreign to the West. Likening the mind to powerful stallions appears in Ancient Greek philosophy. In Plato's allegory of the charioteer, the soul is described as having three components: a charioteer (Reason), and two winged steeds: one white (spiritedness, the irascible element, boldness) and one black (the appetitive element, concupiscence, desire). The goal is to train the horses and ascend to divine heights.
In Mahamudra, the monk is holding a rope (to lasso the mind) and a goad (to spur and guide the mind). The monk treads the windy path of meditation chasing after the elephant, eventually ropes the elephant, leads the elephant, then rides the elephant. The dark mud on the elephant represents dullness. Eventually the mud of dullness falls away and the mind becomes lucid and bright. The rope and the goad represent vigilance and attentiveness in meditation. The fires represent ardency. Vigilance, attentiveness and ardency are some of the training tools we will need for our work.
With practice, we can rewire the brain to maintain effortless attention on an object of focus for hours without interruption. In Pointing Out the Great Way, by Dan Brown and The Mind Illuminated by John Yates, salient characteristics of each stage and milestones are outlined.
1. Beginner: Distractions, dullness of mind and other hindrances are common.
2. Beginner: The practitioner has established a daily practice and can maintain attention on the meditation object for about a minute.
3. Beginner: Practitioners can maintain attention on the object of focus for about 10 minutes. Distractions may push the object to the periphery, but a practitioner is able to detect mind wandering quickly and reorient attention.
Milestone: Uninterrupted continuity of attention marks the first stage of development of skilled concentration. The meditator is no longer a novice, prone to mind-wandering and falling asleep.
4. Skilled: Practitioner can maintain attention for an hour or more without losing her mental hold on the object of meditation.
5. Skilled: Develops continuous awareness to make corrections before subtle distractions become gross. Gross distractions no longer push the breath into the background. Breath sensations don’t fade.
6. Skilled: Subtle mental dullness or laxity is no longer a great difficulty, but now the practitioner is prone to subtle excitements which arise at the periphery of meditative attention.
Milestone: Sustained single-pointed attention to the meditation object.
7. Adept: Attention no longer alternates. Attention is stable. Although the practitioner may still experience subtle excitement or dullness, they are rare and s/he can easily recognize and pacify them.
Milestone: Effortless stability of attention, also known as mental pliancy.
8. Adept: In this stage the practitioner can reach high levels of concentration with only a slight effort and without being interrupted by subtle laxity or excitement during the entire meditation session.
9. Adept: The meditator now effortlessly reaches absorbed concentration and can maintain it for about four hours without any single interruption.
Milestone: Stability of attention and mindful awareness are fully developed, accompanied by meditative joy, tranquility and equanimity, qualities which persist between meditation sessions.
At each stage, we set our intentions and let the intentions do the work. We can only act in the present moment. A goal implies a future, imagined state. The intention orients the mind to the present such that, with clear focus, we can incrementally, moment by moment, walk toward the goal. Over time, the results become more consistent and the qualities cultivated- such as patience and determination- become more persistent. Like this, we reach each milestone.
The 9 stages are useful the way a map is useful to a traveler hiking along the Pacific Crest Trail. We can determine which location we're in. We know what to expect at each stage. We know how to work and what to work on. And, if we need help along the way, we can gage whether a teacher can guide us to the next stage by asking the right questions. Without standardized tools, measurements, or performance markers we can use to gage, say, a concentrative hold, it is harder to improve or to identify a more advanced practitioner from whom we can learn.
For contemplatives, humility is a desired trait. Meditators, moreover, tend toward compassion and cooperation, not competition. I don't pretend to be as evolved. I want to know how my concentration measures up against that of a Tibetan monk who has just completed a 3 year meditation retreat. I want to be inspired. I want to continue learning and growing from true masters, not delude myself into believing I have attained the Ultimates. But how can I tell if a self-proclaimed "enlightened" guru had skills?
We may soon be able to measure progress empirically. As these practices take root in the West, they are shaping to culture. As Eastern and Western traditions merge, new insights emerge. The application of new technologies such as Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging, Positron Emission Tomography, DNA sequencing, and bloodwork, along with established methods like the scientific method and controlled peer-reviewed studies, are being used to test the effectiveness of ancient practices like Vipassana. This integration of modern science and ancient practices is contributing to the collective understanding and well-being of society as a whole.
We are entering a phase of empirical research that, in addition to ongoing research on mindfulness, investigates the cognitive-neuroscientific mechanisms underlying different forms of meditation and what they reveal about the mind.
For now, the 9 stages of Training the Elephant provides us a useful framework.
Beginner
Stage 1: Establish a daily meditation practice!
Committing to daily practice is not easy. It takes firm resolve to begin a practice and a strong will to maintain one's resolve. Several qualities of mind must be established and dominant, among them are: 1. resolve, 2. discipline, 3. commitment, 4. motivation, 5. executive functioning (e.g. planning, time management, inhibition, organization, flexibility, task initiation, etc) 6. patience. It takes discipline to commit to a new regimen and patience to change and grow. Only you can choose to subject yourself to the rigors of this discipline, to face uncertainty and discomfort, and to challenge yourself. Only you can mediate the inner dialogue between the part that wants to remain in the familiar and the part willing to venture into the unknown; the part that wants to do, and the part that wants to be; the part that wants to follow the restless and busy mind or to discover the quiet truth behind these transient states. Only you can determine if this discipline of self discovery is worth your effort. You choose how to prioritize your time. You decide what is important to you. Setting intentions is part of the practice. We call this conative training. Conative refers to intention, volition, will. It's the first and most important step.
Setting a goal is one thing, following through on that goal is another. What we call grit or tenacity has a biological substrate. Evidence suggests a central role for the anterior mid-cingulate cortex in subserving tenacity. The anterior mid-cingulate cortex acts as a structural and functional hub connecting multiple brain regions that render the experience we call persistence, or will power, or tenacity (Barrett et al., 2020). The anterior mid-cingulate cortex also receives and integrates a wide range of signals from other brain regions to predict energy requirements that are needed for attention allocation, to encode new information, execute physical movement, and facilitate goal attainment (Barrett, Touroutoglou, 2020). It influences and is influenced by rest, memory, emotion, mindset, interoception, etc. Together, they regulate the amount of effort directed toward any potential behavior. What we call tenacity will influence performance particularly wherever there is challenge. Intentionally doing things that suck every day strengthens these networks and structures. And most beginners will agree: meditation sucks.
By day 3, many meditators were exhausted and would hobble to their cushions with some trepidation. We approached the hall like defeated laboratory mice about to receive mild electric shocks.
But every time we butt a cushion to meditate- especially when we don't want to- we strengthen the anterior mid-cingulate and cultivate conative balance. I wanted to encourage others with some neuroscience trivia, but we took a vow to maintain noble silence.
These efforts are rewarded. A 2023 study found improvements in attention, memory, mood, and emotional regulation after 8 weeks of meditation for just 13 minutes per day. A 2016 study found that engaging in meditation over an extended period led to structural alterations in the brain's "white matter," responsible for transmitting sensory information. These changes may provide insights into how meditation aids individuals in remaining present and potentially mitigating age-related cognitive decline.
It is very important to note here that meditation is not for everyone! Adverse experiences are not uncommon. In a 2022 study sampling about 1000 participants, 10% experienced adverse effects which had significant impacts on their lives and lasted over a month (Goldberg, Britton, Davidson, 2020). In a meta analysis spanning 40 years, the most adverse experiences were anxiety and depression, followed by psychosis, delusion, and dissociation/depersonalization (Farias, Miraldi & Luccetti, 2022).
Stage 2: Appreciate the ‘aha moment that recognizes mind wandering. Intend to engage with the breath as fully as possible. Shorten the periods of mind-wandering and extend the periods of sustained attention. Celebrating those aha moments is key!
During a focused meditation session, it is common to cycle through 5 intervals:
1. Sustained attention
Attention is single-pointedly focused on an object (the object of focus could be the breath, a word, a sound, a sensation, etc.). The executive network is active. This network includes the right parietal cortex, right frontal cortex, and thalamus. When we are focused on the touch sensation of the breath, the parietal lobes are active. The right frontal lobe is responsible for impulse control- among other functions. The thalamus regulates alertness.
2. Mind wandering (Default Mode Network)
At some point, the mind may wander. The posterior cingulate cortex, posterior lateral parietal/temporal cortices, cingulate cortex, and parahippocampal gyrus are active. This network, called the default mode network (DMN), is associated with mind wandering, disruption of attention, autobiographical memories, judgment, self-referential thoughts, guilt, and emotional processing. All of these functions serve to construct an internal narrative- a seeming self. This may explain why meditation is so difficult for beginners. The default mode is the brain's default state; it's a resting state- a baseline. When the mind wanders and beginning meditators realize the mind has wandered, rather than cut and reorient attention, they criticize their performance (judgment), make self-referential evaluations ("This isn't for me; I'm just not good at this"), and simply reinforce the DMN. Tibetan Buddhists call this nyon-yi, the nuisance mind or neurotic mind. In Sanskrit, this phase is called vijnana, or the divided mind. In adept meditators, the DMN becomes less active or quiescent.
3. Awareness of mind wandering (Salience Network)
This is the moment a practitioner realizes attention has wandered. This is the aha moment and the key stage of training for practitioners at stage 2. The skilled meditator celebrates and reorients attention; the unskilled meditator returns to the default state: "This is frustrating!" "I can't do this!" etc. The salience network and its functional architecture are involved in cognitive control, perceptual decision, and error processing. How we process error- whether skillfully or unskillfully- will affect perceptions, learning outcomes and performance. Active nodes include the cingulate cortex and the anterior insula. The cingulate cortex is involved in emotion formation, processing, learning and memory. The salience network helps us identify the most relevant piece of information at any given time. The salience network detects when something is important to pay attention to and then acts as an off switch for the default mode network.
4. Letting go (Executive function)
This is a critical choice point. The experienced practitioner lets go of the distraction. Active nodes: basal ganglia, lateral ventral cortex and the anterior cingulate cortex (ACC). These nodes are involved in control and decision making. The anterior cingulate cortex (ACC), interestingly, lies in a unique position in the brain, with connections to both the “emotional” limbic system and the “cognitive” prefrontal cortex. The ACC likely plays an important role in affect regulation serving as a mediator between emotions and reason.
5. Re-orienting (Executive function)
The practitioner redirects attention to the object of focus. Active nodes: superior colliculus and frontal eye fields, temporal parietal junction and the superior parietal cortex. Typically, the activity of the default mode network decreases when a meditator is paying attention to an external stimulus (such as the breath), while activity in the salience and executive networks increases. This push and pull between networks is what we experience during our sits.
Stage 3: Invoke introspective awareness to make corrections before you notice distractions or dullness. Engage with the breath as fully as possible without losing peripheral awareness. When the mind wanders or leads, as it inevitably will, we give it a gentle tug. In the painting above, the monk has roped the elephant at stage 3.
Simply acknowledging mind wandering as normal mutes frustration. If, on the other hand, a meditator sits with the expectation that the mind should be empty, calm, quiescent, peaceful, or blissful and it is not, we trigger a dopamine reward error response. Our expectations are not indexed to our experience. "No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to keep my mind focused and relaxed." "My mind is restless. I must not be doing something right." We've missed our target expectations. A pea-sized structure in the brain called the habenula inhibits dopamine activity. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter which affects learning, attention, and motivation- among other functions. Too little of it, we lose interest, attention wanders, motivation wanes. The habenula is an anti-reward system; it plays an important role in aversive experiences and in making decisions so as to avoid future disappointment. This may explain why so many people quit at this stage.
If, on the other hand, I recognize mind wandering as normal and reframe recognition as a victory, a different process unfolds. When we celebrate the aha moment, neurons activate in the brain’s ventral tegmental area (VTA), a place in the midbrain that secretes dopamine. Dopamine is the signal that creates that rush of joy or bliss, and it travels from the VTA to the nucleus accumbens and spreads from there to other structures throughout the brain. The increased dopamine levels deliver a sense of pleasure, improve attention and interest. We’re then motivated to repeat our behavior to reach that pleasure again. The mind wanders- aha! I recognized it's wandered. I return my attention to the object of focus. Again, the mind wanders, at some point I recognize the mind has wandered. Yes! This is the attitude of the skilled meditator.
So, when the mind wanders and you realize it's wandered, celebrate, cut, and reorient attention. In this way, you strengthen those neural networks. You develop greater cognitive control. You maintain your motivation and can sustain your meditation practice.
Skilled
Stage 4: Remain vigilant. Introspective awareness becomes continuous. Notice and immediately correct strong dullness & gross distraction. Observe the process of how mental events arise without cognitive elaboration.
Strong dullness leads to sleepiness or mental torpor. For several months during this stage, I found myself falling asleep quite often. Gross distractions, like loud sounds, are easy to recognize and cut. Gross distractions, like thoughts, also become easier to recognize.
At stage 4, a skilled meditator can hold attention on the object of focus for an hour. I found counting the most useful strategy for working through this stage. Counting breaths is a straightforward, but powerful way to train concentration and awareness- ESPECIALLY when the mind is distractible or restless. Counting recruits more of the brains resources, engaging extensive cerebral networks. These demands divert attention away from rumination and mind-wandering. The posterior parietal cortex and the prefrontal cortex, as well as the language processing centers are key structures involved in counting. Finger counting recruits the motor areas. Cortical connections between motor and language circuits are strengthened. We are also pinning attention to the breath and feeling the touch sensation of each breath.
During meditation, we may breathe between 6-15 breaths per minute. Once we have an average breath count per minute, we can multiple that by 60. During retreat, I would use a watch or the second hand of a clock to count breaths prior to sitting. If I am averaging 12 breaths per minute, I can estimate I will breathe about 720 breaths or less during that hour (as breath tends to slow when we are deep in concentrative absorption). I can use fingers to count every 72 breaths or, if I cannot hold attention that long, count to 12 and put a finger down. To an observer, I look like I'm performing a mudra (the thumb to finger poses we often see in images of meditation), but I'm tracking. After 10 minutes, once all 10 fingers are down, I start a second round. I do this for 6 rounds. After an hour, the bell rings.
This is not the recommended technique at the Vipassana Centers taught by S.N. Goenka. We are encouraged to simply feel the touch sensation of each in-coming and out-going breath. But when my mind cannot hold attention on the sensations and the slightly deeper breathings recommended to feel the touch sensation of the breath do not improve concentration, I count. I've gotten so good at it, I can estimate breaths per minute without a stopwatch. I can also tell whether the mind is alert or distracted and can choose the better strategy.
Feeling the touch sensation of the breath without adding a layer of abstraction as per instruction is ideal. But, as an educator by profession, if I see a student struggling with a concept or skill, I scaffold. Scaffolding refers to temporary platforms builders erect to stand on while they put up new walls and floors. In education, scaffolding is an instructional technique where a teacher provides structure. Scaffolding is a way for teachers to provide support while students master new concepts and skills. When young children are learning to subtract, for example, we may use blocks, pictures or finger counting to take away, say, 6 from 10. With time, a teacher gradually removes these supports as students become more competent. Similarly, once the mind becomes stable and clear, I can let go of counting and simply sit with the sensations. It's worth noting that meditation itself is a scaffolded practice. Few can naturally sustain attention on any object for more than a few seconds without concentration wavering. While we may lock in to a state of flow for some activities, meditation trains the mind in particular ways (depending on the technique). Instructions are abstractions. We sit with algorithms and sub-routines running in the background. If x arises do y, else do z.
Stage 5: Notice and immediately correct for subtle dullness. At this stage, we train both concentration and awareness. These are not the same. I may be aware, for example, that the mind is calm or agitated, alert or dull, focused or distractible, free or bounded, expanded or contracted, peaceful or at war with itself.
If attention locks into breath and breath becomes the primary focus of attention, the Observer soon notices movements of mind or thoughts arising on the periphery of mind. Attention remains on the breath, but there is also awareness of thoughts at the edges of concentration. At this stage, awareness is on the Observer observing. This is meta-cognition- awareness turns in on itself.
To train at this stage, I began counting at the beginning, middle, or end of each in-breath; the beginning, middle, or end of each pause between in and out breaths; the beginning, middle, or end of each of each out breath; and the the beginning, middle, or end of each transition between the out and in breaths.
Aware that the mind is restless or agitated, I simply remain aware that the mind is restless or agitated. If the mind is craving, I am aware that the mind is craving; if the mind is wandering, I am aware the mind is wandering. If the mind is agitated, I am aware the mind is agitated; if the mind is tranquil, I am aware the mind is tranquil. The mind itself becomes the object.
Going deeper, I can be aware if a momentary arising is pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. The mind can react with or without attachment. This, too, passes away in later stages.
To redirect skillfully, takes a lot of scaffolding. My training is structured like that of a musician. As a jazz pianist practices scales and modes on a piano in all 12 keys until they can run up and down effortlessly, I train on fundamentals.
I've developed several drills so that practice becomes effortless. I mentioned three:1. counting, 2. finger-counting, 3. noting beginnings, middles, and ends (BME). I also move attention to count the BMEs at the nostrils, the nasal cavity, the back of the throat, the diaphragm, the abdomen, the rib cage, and the whole body. Such that, when I direct the mind to observe the breath, I go deep. It is informed and insightful.
Stage 6: Establish a clearly defined scope of attention, and completely ignore subtle distractions. At this stage, the mind is no longer distracted by thoughts. With years of training, I can now see proto-thoughts arising on the periphery of mind and can pacify them before they become gross. Gross thoughts are inner narratives which have structure, color, sound, themes, and may pull from memory. If they arise, I can notice the beginning, middle, and end of the thought. But I am still working on this stage to refine my skills.
One useful technique for working through this stage was shared by Shinzen Young. He calls the technique Exploration of the Inner and Outer Activations. There are 6 Activations: See Out, See In, Hear Out, Hear In, Feel Out, Feel In.
When we See Out- we simply observe and note that we are seeing- objects, noting textures, empty space, color, shape, the play of light, etc. Even with eyes closed, we can see out into darkness. We soon appreciate that even with eyes closed, the darkness has a hue, a depth, form, shape. Seeing In, by contrast, refers to inner seeing. Thoughts may arise, pictures may form on the screen of the mind. When these mind pictures or mental movies arise, we simply label this phenomena as "See Out." Hear Out refers to external sounds (the sounds in the environment, the space between sounds, the 3 dimensionality of sound, the multiple channels of sound). When we Hear In we are attending to internal sounds that arise as thoughts, conversations, narratives, internal chatter. Feel Out refers to sensations we feel outside- the touch of clothing on skin, the brush of a breeze on the cheek, a contraction here, an itch there, heat, throbbing, pulsing, tightness or any other sensation that arise on the surface of the skin or just beneath the surface (e.g. a contraction, a dullness, a soreness). Feel In refers to the feelings that arise- a passing sadness, a momentary stillness, an arising curiosity, a bubbling impatience, a mood tone of calmness or agitation, restlessness or tranquility, etc. We simply identify and label all phenomena that arise as Seeing, Hearing, or Feeling and note whether they are arising externally (out) or internally (in).
I developed another technique I call the Primitives. The Primitives include the breath (and its sounds, sensations, texture, and cadence), sensations (temperature, contractions, touch, pressure), and the heart beat (and its sounds, sensations, and cadence). I plug the ears and attend to the Primitives: heart beat, breath, sensations, and mind itself. I feel the attendant pulsings and throbbings of the heartbeat throughout the body and down to the tributaries: the arteries and fingertips. If my jaw was relaxed and the teeth were just touching, they would tap to the rhythm of the heartbeat. I might even feel the subtle pulsing of the heartbeat behind the closed eyes.
Subtle breath sensations occur at the nostrils, the nasal cavity, the back of the throat, the diaphragm and rib cage in 3-dimensions, the abdomen, and whole body. I could feel the subtle change in air pressure around the nose, the lift of the ribs, the drop of the diaphragm, the rising of the abdomen simultaneously. I am hyper-vigilant and aware.
Then there are the subtle and not so subtle sensations that arise and pass away- heat, coolness, throbbing, pulsing, tightness, numbness, pressure, contraction, etc. Sensations are the primary focus of attention in this technique.
Finally, there is mind.
I count both the breath and heart beat. For example, as I type this, I am breathing about 8 breaths per minute and my heart is beating at 80 beats per minute. The in-breath is about 3 beats, the pause is less than a beat, the out breath in about 5 beats, and the transition between out and in is about 1.5 beats. As the in-breath is 3 beats, I can divide the breath by heart-beat (one beat to mark the beginning, one beat to mark the middle, one beat to mark the end). The 5 out-breaths are longer (one beat to mark the beginning, three beats to mark the middle, one beat to mark the end).
By maintaining this hyper-focus on the breath and heart-beat, there are few cognitive resources left for mind wandering or rumination. These practices integrate the whole brain and involve audio processing (listening to the heart beats), counting (language processing), finger-counting (motor processing), attention, as well as awareness and other qualities of mind- self-monitoring, tracking, error processing, inhibition, motivation, and meta-cognition (awareness of awareness itself). At any point during the hour, I could pinpoint exactly where my attention was if asked.
Mind directs investigation into itself. And there are subtler and subtler levels. At the grossest level are the scaffolded instructions themselves. Again, I'm like a musician practicing scales and using drills and effort to go beyond drills and effort. The instructions and techniques are abstractions and concepts that eventually dissolve into observation. Using conceptualization to go beyond conceptualization is like using a thorn to remove a thorn.
As these techniques are cognitively demanding, I schedule them in the mornings and early afternoon when the mind is refreshed and clear and alert. A few times during retreat, I would just sit and let the mind idle (aware that I am letting my mind wander).
Adept
I do not consider myself an adept... yet. Although I have had glimpses of stages 7-9, I cannot drop into these as predictably as I can with the other stages. Moreover, the qualities are not persistent. I suspect it will take a few more years and more intense commitments of 30 days to 3 months or even longer to make significant progress.
These stages are usually reserved for monks and nuns who've sat multiple, multi-year retreats or for extremely skilled meditators. Unfortunately, many meditation teachers present as adept. But this framework helps us identify the real deal from the aspirant... or the charlatan.
Stage 7: We approach the threshold of effortlessness. Purposely relaxing effort from time to time will let us know when effort and vigilance are no longer necessary. We surrender the need for control. This is like the jazz musician who can flow and improvise over complex chord progressions and apply interesting modes and scales, running up and down the keys effortlessly. A novice and intermediate student must devote years of practice to get to this stage of effortlessness. It is important to note that some adept meditators are not adept at teaching. A teacher who arrives at Stage 7 may instruct students to let go of effort. This may be good advice for a skilled meditator approaching this stage, but may not be good advice for beginners.
As of this writing, I am working to get consistent results at stage 6 to advance to 7. Presently, I cannot maintain a strong concentrative hold on the breath without the structure. Often, when I drop effort, I slip into mind wandering. I am aware of Mind wandering and aware if there is attachment, craving, or aversion to mind wandering, but it is not effortless and the lag time is still too long to consider myself an adept. That said, I was sitting for longer and longer periods- up to 3 hours without interruption.
The discomfort that would inevitably arise felt more like raw sensations, numbness, throbbing. These would arise and pass away. I remained aware of the arisings, the lingering, the passing, and the aversion or absence of aversion.
Stage 8: Meditative joy arises. The intensity can perturb the mind, becoming a distraction and object of craving. Contentment was becoming the main tone of my meditations.
Stage 9: Profound tranquility and equanimity persists even between sessions. Mindfulness practice begins after formal meditation ends. Formal meditation is a time to cultivate insight and equanimity, to practice calm abiding, attentional regulation, interoceptive awareness, and non-reactivity. Formal meditation is the time to observe and calibrate the mind. When the session ends, mindful practice begins. Whilst walking, we attend fully to walking; whilst eating, we fully attend to eating (aromas, tastes, chewing, swallowing, and attendant movements); whilst showering, we remain fully aware, fully present. While I was able to maintain attention and calm off the cushion, it wasn't persistent.
On retreat, at the end of each day, there is a discourse. In pre-recordings, the teacher, S.N. Goenka, gives some explanations on technique.
I found these somewhat helpful. During rest periods, I would often sit by the stream and attend to the Discourse on Water or the Wind's Discourse to learn Truths from Nature, the truest teacher of Dhamma or Truth.
A stream ran through the Land of Truth. I would sit and listen (Hear Out) to the sound of rushing water or listen to the Wind's Discourse. The flow of water and the flow of the thought stream were sometimes distinct and sometimes one in the same. Absent thought, "The sound of water says what I think," as the poet Chuang Tzu wrote. When the mind grew quiescent and a breeze rustled the treetops, the falling leaves sounded like the plopping and plinking and plunking of rain drops.
The nature of Nature is creation, beauty, structure, perfection.
The maple trees bedazzled in dresses the color of fireworks. The autumnal breeze denuded the trees one by one, leaf by leaf. The walking paths were yellow and golden bricked roads speckled with reds and browns. In the spring, the seeds of the maple trees would spin, tumbling through the air. The samara seeds of the maple trees were pitched to provide lift and keep the seed in a stable orientation to allow whatever breeze to carry the seed farther away to enhance dispersal of the maple trees. So much genius in the simplest things to marvel at.
As the mind settled into a persistent alpha state of calm, I would notice details. An overcast morning sky, for example, would reveal itself to me. I would notice dark magentas, soft blues, and other hues of color. All I could see around me was perfection. I would greet the Yellow Emperor rising in the east. The hills were ablaze in fiery yellows and oranges. The trees were adorned in fall foliage. The forest was a patchwork of color, speckled with every hue of yellow, orange, and red. It was almost as if a child had a large box of Autumnal crayons and had taken each one out to color the leaves a different shade. The arrays of color, shapes, and forms were too beautiful to verbalize. There were no words- just pure joy and gratitude and wonder and curiosity. I would notice a flowering bush or a weed and wolf whistle like a construction worker harassing an attractive woman passing by. Each white petal tinged in light pink at the tips, a bright yellow tuft like a pin cushion for the pistils and stamen. All was just so.
When was I this observant? When was I aware of the direction the clouds moved in? The phase of the moon? The calls of migrating birds? The mushrooms growing on the trunk of a fallen tree? The position of the planets in the night sky? The parkour like acrobatics of chipmunks? The red-tailed hawk screeching far off? The buzzing calls of insects at dusk? The brown and black caterpillar crossing the gravel road? The blue sky? The alpine glow at dusk? The woody perfume of the forest?
A subtle bliss colored my heart.
I was only somewhat attached to Nature's beauty and remained aware that there was pleasure and craving and attachment. And Nature provided instruction.
The forest was a charnal ground for giants. Rotting corpses of wood lay everywhere. Their once solid trunks disintegrated when I reached in and took fistfuls of wood pulp out. What gave life to the trees also animated me.
The dead trees were abodes for the living: insects, fungi, arachnids, birds, and other beings unseen. The microscopic world was even more fantastic. And the unseen worlds of the Departed may be just as fantastic and beautiful and beyond imagination. This seeming "I" will also dissolve into death soon enough and learn from the Mystery.
Some dead giants still stood erect. The Spirit of Life had long passed away and only the trunk and dead limbs remained to remind us of the impermanence of Life. Like lifeless trees, many live as if already dead. There are Zombies amongst us. I, too, was once dead to life, a prisoner of my own thoughts and attachments.
Why I chose this path
A documentary about men at a maximum security prison in Alabama convinced me to try this technique of Vipassana over a decade ago. If this meditation technique could work for these men in such a hostile environment, I reasoned, certainly it would work for me.
"A life of bondage is full of sorrow," the teacher S.N. Goenka said in a discourse to the prisoners. "There is no greater suffering than bondage and no greater happiness than freedom... Deep inside, everyone is a prisoner of his unwholesome behavior patterns at the depth of the mind. Without knowing what one is doing, one continues generating some negativity or the other- anger, hatred, aversion. Out of ignorance, you make yourself miserable... but there is a way out of this prison."
Satya Narayana (S.N.) Goenka was an influential Vipassana meditation teacher. He was born in Burma to a wealthy Brahmin family from India. He presented as happily married, a loving father, ethical, genuine, and compassionate. He was a polyglot and educated. Leveraging his business savvy, he helped establish over 230 Vipassana centers worldwide. The centers are entirely donation based. People who try Vipassana and benefit from the technique donate their money, time, or resources to help. The model rests entirely on the goodwill and compassion of others and confidence in the power of the technique to transform lives. People are lodged, well fed, and attended to on retreat. In gratitude, people respond according to their means and ability. This model impressed me greatly as most other meditation centers are fee-based and expensive making a 10 day retreat prohibitive for many.
Critique
I practice this technique daily. I could not have learned it on my own. Attending a retreat was essential and positively transformative. I would not have advanced as far as I have without the generosity and support of the sangha, or community.
I still cling to my likes and dislikes. I do not like the chanting which opens and closes each sit ( I would prefer a simple bell) and would prefer discourses on neuroscience instead of the Buddha's teachings, but my criticisms are subjective. I find the discourses tedious and dogmatic. Some love the chanting and appreciate the discourses that are played at the end of each day. I appreciate the rules and codes, some chafe at them.
After retreat comes re-entry. I return to the city and the bustle and the to-do lists and the meetings and chores. The mortgage needs to be paid, the car needs an oil change, the kids need to be shuttled to school and their extracurriculars. But I have established a practice that keeps me grounded. When walking, I walk; when eating, I am mindful of smelling, if smelling; tasting, if tasting; chewing, if chewing; swallowing, if swallowing. Nothing is taken for granted- not the breath, not the gifts of sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste, or health.
I am more compassionate, more patient, more equanimous.
For this, I am grateful!
I would invite curious others to investigate for themselves.
First published 6/27/2022
Updated and Republished 10/29/2024
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