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Mindfulness of Breathing (39) Luminous Mind

I find that one of the inspiring topics in the teachings of the Buddha is the teaching around citta^[1]. Citta is often translated into English as "mind," or sometimes, depending on the context, as "state of mind." Perhaps there is no real difference between mind and state of mind.

The mind here, as I said yesterday, is not a thing. It is not as if we can take a microscope to the brain and discover where the mind is. The mind is more of a gestalt; it is the sum total of our mentality, of how the mind works. Because it is not a thing, the Buddha never talks about letting go of the mind. He talks about letting go of form, of feelings, of perceptions, of mental activities, and he also talks about letting go of something that we have come to understand in the West as consciousness.

Citta vs. Consciousness

The Pali word for consciousness is viññāṇa^[2]. It is possible that viññāṇa should not be translated as consciousness. There is a whole history, spanning maybe three or four hundred years, of the Western use of the word "consciousness." It was coined in relatively recent times, but it has entered our language deeply, especially over the last hundred years or so. Many of us now take it as second nature; it seems obvious what it is.

It is often held up in religious, spiritual, and meditation circles as something really ultimate. There are ideas of cosmic consciousness, ultimate consciousness, different states of consciousness, and altered consciousness. The word "consciousness" gets a lot of association, power, projection, expectations, and hopes built around it. Many people feel that a broad state of consciousness is somehow ultimate and profoundly significant. I certainly do not want to diminish the profundity of states of awareness. However, what is fascinating is that for the Buddha, whatever viññāṇa is—this word we translate as consciousness—he says to let go of it. He even treats it as a kind of problem. Clearly, it is problematic, this viññāṇa that we translate as consciousness.

But he never says that about citta, about the mind. Maybe "mind" should be translated as consciousness, but consciousness in English implies something that knows. I am not sure exactly if a state of mind is something that knows. Rather, it is a broad tone, mood, feeling, or sense of the mind.

The Luminous Mind

Sometimes that state of mind can feel fragile. It can feel sluggish, agitated, or contracted. Certainly, sometimes the state of mind does not feel good. In fact, some of the suffering—the dukkha^[3]—that this Buddhist practice is meant to alleviate is experienced as a vice-like grip on the mind or the heart. It is really tight and irritated. The mind is like rough sandpaper, perhaps, or it just feels so miserable that we are oppressed by it. Sometimes the mind can feel that way.

But the mind can also feel the exact opposite. The word citta is very fascinating. The dictionary definition for citta includes the word "brightness," as well as "wondrous" or "wonderful." So there is this idea that the mind is related to something wondrous and bright. Sometimes the mind is called luminous, clear, or clean in the teachings of the Buddha. Not that the mind is inherently any of these things, because the mind is not a thing that can have inherent qualities. Maybe it is a little bit more like a hologram. It does not quite exist by itself, and you could put your hand right through it if you could ever see it. Yet, it is still a mood, feeling, or sense that can be very powerful and significant for us. When the mind is suffering, it is really oppressive. But when the mind is happy, peaceful, or clear, the mind feels quite wondrous, bright, and open.

Much of the Buddhist path of practice is understood in terms of the mind. Sometimes it is framed not in personal terms—instead of saying, "I am training myself," we say, "We are training the mind." We are developing the mind, and we are liberating the mind. I find it fascinating that plenty of times the Buddha does not say that a person gets liberated; rather, the mind gets liberated.

Some of you might find it a little disappointing to discover that you will never get liberated, that this is not the name of the game. But your mind will get liberated! Your job, whatever "you" are, is to help the mind experience liberation, to be free, and to bring it to some kind of beauty. This idea that the mind has the potential for beauty, luminosity, brightness, and cleanliness is phenomenally inspiring.

Even more inspiring is that because the mind is not a thing, it is malleable and shapeable. We are never stuck with our mind. We might be stuck with our brain and however the brain works, but we are not stuck with the mind. It is the field within which our practice has its effect and influence. As we develop more concentration, mindfulness, letting go, equanimity, and wisdom, the mind begins to have a wondrous feeling and a wonderful sense that we can experience.

A Personal Discovery

Another thing I find wonderful about the word citta and how it is used in the suttas^[4] is that the experience of it is very personal. Do not go looking in a Buddhist text or listening to a Buddhist teacher like myself for a definitive description of how the mind is experienced, only to try and make sure you have that exact experience, or feel bad because you do not have it the way it is described. You are shaping your mind. It is constantly morphing, changing, and shifting. It is arising within you based on the causes and conditions of your inner life, how your attention works, what you focus on, and how you are thinking or conceiving. It is a dynamic thing.

Because it is very personal, it is more about the discovery of how you experience it. You do not need to be concerned about discovering the "right" way to experience the mind, or what the "right" mind is supposed to be. But as we feel the mind, we become aware of a mind that has an "ouch" to it, and a mind that has an "ah."

These highly technical terms in "Gil language"—"ouch" and "ah"—[Laughter] are meant to give us lots of room to not get caught up in the details or try to be right or wrong. It is a very simple thing: "Ah, that's an ouch, the state of the mind doesn't feel good." Or, "This feels good." The direction of Buddhist practice is in the direction of the "ah"—the direction of the beautiful mind, in whatever way you define, experience, or see beauty. A luminous mind, a clear mind, a clean mind, a spacious mind, a peaceful mind.

Resting in the Mind

It takes a while, and you do not have to be in a hurry to experience the wondrous ways the mind can be. But as ānāpānasati^[5] develops, and as we become calmer and more settled going through the steps—especially after step eight, where we pivot—mental activity relaxes. This means we are not so fixated on what we are thinking about and wanting. We begin to rest back into the easy chair of the mind, resting back and just allowing, feeling, and sensing the overall state of the mind, and breathing with that.

Breathing in, experiencing the mind. Breathing out, experiencing the mind.

Thank you, and we will continue tomorrow.