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Samadhi, Thinking, Well-Being

Welcome everybody. Nice to see you all.

The air conditioning just went on. I'll just say that this room ends up having a little bit of microclimates. It comes out right there, and so if the air conditioning is bothersome, under there is a little bit warmer. I'm just pointing this out; usually, it's fine for everybody.

Today I'd like to continue this series that I've been doing on samadhi^[1], and I'll explain what that is. This little series I'm doing is within a bigger series on the Seven Factors of Awakening^[2]—things that promote greater freedom, greater peace, greater ease. One of the factors is samadhi, and I'm just spending a few weeks here fleshing that out, exploring it, and maybe saying a few more things about it.

So what is samadhi, and why am I using this Pali word and not an English word? First, I'll start with one way that we can understand samadhi, which is that it has these three elements. The first is a sense of unification, kind of like a collectedness, as opposed to being really scattered, distracted, and agitated. It has this quality of unification and steadiness so that the mind can land on something and not immediately just be bouncing around. It can have a certain amount of steadiness, and some well-being too, definitely accompanied by a real sense of ease, happiness, joy, and gladness. I'll talk a little bit about that as I go.

This idea of samadhi is something that just naturally arises. There certainly are things that we can do to promote it and support its arising, but it also is something that just naturally arises when we're doing mindfulness practice for maybe a little bit longer. Longer being either just a longer meditation period, or maybe we do a sitting period for however long the body can be comfortable, and then staying with this mindfulness for some walking, and then maybe another sitting, as a way that we can sit for a longer duration without the body complaining too loudly.

One English word that is sometimes used for samadhi is "concentration." But the reason why I don't like to use this word is because concentration really is pointing to this microscopic focusing, bearing down onto one single point. That's not really what it is. I used to think this, and wow, there is a lot of suffering around trying to do this. So I've been trying to unpack this and explore different ways in which we can have this experience of samadhi.

Something else I like to say when I'm talking about this is that it's not like there's a switch that's either on or off; it's definitely a spectrum. We're just moving in one direction towards more collectedness and a greater sense of well-being, or we're moving the other way, being a little more distracted. It's not that we can't be distracted; I'm just talking about samadhi here. I'm not talking about all of our meditation experiences and mindfulness. I don't want us to think that this is the only way, but it's just the topic of what I'm exploring and talking about tonight.

Unification and Settling

Just a little bit more on this idea of unification. There's a Pali word I'm not going to bother talking about, but this idea gets brought up. There are a number of ways we can think about this, and one is that the body and the mind somehow are a little bit more unified, coming together. The body is here—of course it's here, where else would it be? It's here, but sometimes the mind is over there, fantasizing about the future or recollecting the past. The mind is anywhere except here sometimes. So that might be one way we could think about unification: the mind and the body being more together or in the same vicinity.

I remember one time that I was meeting with a meditation teacher early in my practice. I was running a little bit late, and I wanted to be on time. I wanted to give a good impression; I didn't want to be late. I was a little bit agitated. When I'm driving, I'll be irritated with everybody: "Get out of my way," this kind of a thing. I finally get to this appointment, I show up, and I'm in the room with the meditation teacher. I sit down and am like, "Okay, I wanted to talk about my practice." And this meditation teacher said, "Why don't you finish arriving?" That was just such a nice way—like, okay, to finish arriving. I can do this to get myself collected in some kind of way. So that's one way we might think of unification.

Another way we might think about samadhi is kind of like a settling. I often find myself doing this motion with my hands, I can't help it. Andrea Fella has this simile that's really helpful about those snow globes where we shake them up, and then we put them down, and the glitter settles. It can feel like that. So part of this is maybe a little bit of unification, settling, and arriving. All three of these are about becoming embodied, just a feeling like we're connected to the body. That's one way we might understand this settling.

Our Relationship to Thinking

But it's not uncommon for people to have this idea that it's all about how much they're thinking. They're evaluating: "Am I thinking? Am I not thinking? How much am I thinking? Is this a lot of thinking? I seem to be thinking less than last time, but what can I do to stop thinking?" And they're just doing all this thinking about thinking.

It's not so much that we have to stop all our thinking. That can happen—that usually happens after a lot of meditation practice, and that usually happens in a retreat setting with hours, weeks, or months in meditation. So it's not so much about not thinking, as what our relationship to our thinking is. We spend so much time thinking. Of course we do; this is what humans do. When problems arise, difficulties arise, we want to fix them. We're so used to thinking as a way that we fix and solve problems.

So it's about what our relationship to our thinking is. What is the content of what we're thinking? There can be the content, but also what is the manner or how we're doing it? I'd like to unpack this a little bit.

One way we can think about our relationship to thinking is to observe what happens when we sit down to meditate and we have this intention—I'll use the example to be with the breath, as this is what we often teach—to just be with the sensations of breathing. And then the mind starts: "Well, what am I going to have for dinner?" or "When is that dang bell going to ring?" Whatever it is, we get lost in this thought. And then it's a mystery, really, like all of a sudden, ping, there's a waking up: "Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be meditating." And then maybe we begin again with the object of our meditation, the breath, for example.

So what happens when there's that little ping—"Oh right, I'm meditating"? This could be a great place to check in with what our relationship to thinking is. What happens in the next moment, in the next beat? Sometimes it feels like a little light goes back on: "Oh yeah, right, I'm supposed to be meditating." Is there, in the next moment, a feeling like, "Dang it, how long have I been thinking? Oh gosh, I'm always thinking. Everybody else, they're probably not thinking. Oh, remember that time when I didn't have as much thinking, and it's not like that now." So there can be this "dang it," or "it's too bad, I wish this weren't this way." And with that, there can be a lot of storytelling: "I'm never going to get this, everybody else can do this." We all have our favorite ways of reacting in that next moment.

Or maybe it could be distinct: "Oh, thinking," and just feeling the ribs expand with the in-breath and, with the exhale, the stopping of the stretch. So that's another way. Just to label it, we could say this word, "thinking," and begin again with the sensations of breathing. It doesn't have to be drama. There doesn't have to be an analysis; there doesn't have to be any commentary whatsoever.

I'm saying this and making it sound so simple, but this is definitely something we have to learn. We're so used to commenting, and we definitely have opinions and ideas on how things should be and should not be. But one step is to just notice what our relationship is, and if there's any harshness there. It's amazing how harsh we can be on ourselves. Is there a way that you can bring in a little more gentleness instead of "dang it"? Or maybe it's like, "Dang it—oh, it's okay, sweetie," and then come back to the breath, or whatever your anchor is. The first beat might be this habitual reaction, but then is there a way that we can soften it?

Do not underestimate how powerful this can be. It seems pretty straightforward, and it's not even about being mindful or something like this, but this can make such a difference—to soften, as best we can, our relationship to the thinking when we discover that we've been lost in thought.

Along with this is recognizing that there are actually three moments happening. There's being lost in thought, and when you're lost in thought, no problem. You're just lost in thought. You're planning, or remembering something, or rehearsing a conversation. You're just lost in thought; that's how it is. Then there's this waking up moment. And then there's our reaction to that moment.

Sometimes it's helpful—or I would say maybe it's always helpful—to just notice these three different steps, because sometimes they get all mushed together. There's only really one step where we can do something. When we're lost in thought, we're lost in thought; that's just the way it is. There's nothing we can do there. Nor can we make ourselves wake up from being lost in thought. If we could, you would not be here at a meditation center; you would just be home waking up from whatever you needed to. It's our reaction to when we wake up to the fact that we've been thinking—that's where there's something we can do.

To soften, bring in a little bit of support in whatever way is helpful for you. I use phrases like, "Oh, it's okay," or "Oh, sweetheart," or "Honey." For some people, that's like, "No way, that just feels too weird." But for other people, it feels nice. Whatever feels helpful for you to soften any harshness, do that, and then just begin again with the sensations of breathing or whatever your object is.

The Volume of Thinking

I'd like to point out that not all thoughts are the same. Of course, not all content is the same, but sometimes our thinking is like we're writing a novel. It's a little bit of drama, and there's a plot, and there are lots of characters, and you turn the page and it goes on and on. This is when we're lost in thought. A lot of words—this is what happens. It's okay. But sometimes we can just get it down to a chapter. This train of thinking is just a chapter. Maybe not as many different scenes, or not as much drama. Maybe there's just one drama, one thing that has some emotional charge to it, and after that, there's some waking up.

Then it can be paragraphs, and then it can be sentences, and there can be words. With our settling practice, this is a process of going from long novels—or maybe it's non-fiction, just some big book—down to chapters, paragraphs, sentences, and then words. Just maybe a single word.

Evaluating whether we're thinking or not turns out not to be so helpful, because there's so much judgment that gets associated with it. When we're meditating, we often have this idea: "I shouldn't be thinking." This is a really common idea. I hear teachers talk about this. It's such a common thing for meditation to have this idea that you're supposed to empty your mind. We can't just sit down and empty our mind; that doesn't happen. So we're just moving towards thoughts that are less of a train, less complicated, less of a story, down to a sentence or a word.

Usually, when it's quieted down, there's space in between the words and the sentences. Then those sentences, those words, are often about the meditation. In the little example I gave before, I made a little note: "Oh, thinking." A label that gets put onto an experience is a way to say, "Okay, I see you," and then come back to the object. Doing a simple note, just one word, can be really helpful. Don't worry if it's the right note; just do whatever comes up first. Sometimes the note is "sadness," "anger," "itching," or "pressure"—like we feel the pressure of the chair or cushion against the body. Sometimes it could also be a sentence that's a recognition: "Oh, the breath is really slower than I realized." So it's not really different than the meditation, but it's a way in which we're connecting with or recognizing what's happening.

Using Thinking to Support Practice

I'll introduce this idea too, that we can use thinking to support our practice. We might find that there's this pressure to think. Of course we often have this, because it's how we spend our days mostly. But is there a way in which we can use the thinking to our advantage, as a support?

One way is to give yourself some meditation instructions. Maybe there's a guided meditation that you've heard and internalized because you've heard it so often. Or maybe there's a favorite teacher, an app, or a dharma talk. Bring that up and do a little bit of a guided meditation for yourself. Because I've done a lot of guided meditations with a microphone, I find myself doing this sometimes. I'm talking to myself, giving myself guided meditations. Maybe it's an acquired taste. I offer this as something supportive—nothing that you need to do, but something you might try if you feel like it might be helpful.

We can also try dropping in some encouragement. If there's this feeling like that bell is never going to ring—sometimes it feels like that—you could just say, "Well, everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end," or "Nothing lasts forever," or "It's going to end, it's okay." Trying to make it ring doesn't make it ring. So there's a way that we could give ourselves this little reassurance or encouragement, using the power of thinking.

We could also bring in some borrowed wisdom. Maybe we don't have access to that wisdom right then, but we've heard it and understood it in a certain way: the idea that things change. With the bell or whatever we're experiencing, there is the recognition that this isn't going to last forever. Or if it is changing, we can notice that. We also know that there are difficulties; there's dukkha^[3]. There are things that are uncomfortable. Sometimes it's just helpful to say, "Well, yeah, this is uncomfortable," without having to make it a huge problem that has to be fixed right then. That's a way in which we can use the thinking to help support the settling—this movement from book chapters down to paragraphs, sentences, and words.

Gladness, Joy, and Happiness

Then I also want to talk a little bit about this well-being that's part of this settling process. It just naturally arises. We don't have to go search for it, manufacture it, or drum it up. Something naturally arises when a settling is accompanied by some gentleness, openness, and not grasping or clinging. This is why I've talked about softening our relationship to thinking and making it a little bit warmer, as best we can. It can be so helpful. If there is some warmth and softness in just the way that we're practicing, that definitely creates the conditions for well-being to simply arise.

In the Buddhist teachings, they talk about this well-being a lot. Part of it is a word we could translate as "gladness." This gladness arises when the hindrances^[4] have softened. The hindrances are things that hinder, not surprisingly, and they get in the way of this settling process. I'm not going to go into all the gory detail about this—there's a number of talks on it, and Tanya Wiser and I will be teaching a class on them in the new year. I'll just say that some of the hindrances are when you feel like you have too much energy and you're restless, or not enough energy and you're falling asleep. Maybe there's fantasizing: "I just gotta get this thing," or aversion: "I gotta get away from this thing." Or what we call doubt: "I'm not quite sure what to do," a vacillation or hesitation. There's a lot more we could say about that, but those are the Five Hindrances. When they start to settle, then this gladness arises.

We might think of this gladness as having this quality: This happened to me not too long ago. I went for a walk, and I didn't bring a water bottle with me. I was feeling thirsty: "I feel like I really need to have a drink." It wasn't the end of the world, and I knew the walk was going to end, but I had this feeling like I would really like a drink. I had a water bottle in my car at the end of the walk. When I finally got the water and drank, there was an ah, that kind of a feeling. This satisfaction, this sense of relief.

It can also be like when you're talking with somebody, and for whatever reason their cell phone or Bluetooth device isn't working well. You can't quite hear, or you hear all this background noise. They don't realize they're putting away the groceries while they're talking to you, with the banging of the grocery bags. But you really want to have this conversation. And then when they stop doing that, oh, how nice that feels! So it's that gladness, that kind of uplift and nice feeling that happens.

If this gladness is arising right in our meditation practice, and there is this settling, there's another state we would call "joy" that arises. Joy feels a little bit different than gladness. It's not so much of a relief; joy has this really bubbly, exuberant, exhilarating, euphoric rapture. People use these kinds of words to describe these experiences. It can be a "knock your socks off, finger in the light socket" kind of feeling, or it could just be a nice, bubbly, "oh wow" feeling. It makes no difference where you are on that spectrum. Nobody knows why, but for some people it's a little bit too intense, and for other people it's just this really pleasant, tingly, nice feeling. If gladness was like that glass of water, I would say that joy is more like champagne. Champagne happens when you're celebrating: "Happy birthday! Happy anniversary! Congratulations!" It has that kind of uplifted feeling to it. So there's this joy that happens as the mind and the body are getting more and more connected, collected, and settled.

There's also this happiness that then happens. Maybe the gladness has kind of moved away, and it's a little bit more joy, and then there can be this happiness. If joy is like champagne, happiness is more like hot chocolate on a cold day. Hot chocolate just the way you like it: the perfect temperature, the right amount of sweetness, and if you like marshmallows, there are marshmallows, or whipped cream. It's this feeling of contentment, this feeling of expansiveness. There's this sense of, "Yeah, it's okay." Sometimes there can be tears associated with it, because it's like, "Wow, I didn't even know that humans could actually feel like this." They're not tears of sadness; it's like, "Wow, so this is what can happen."

The vast majority of the time, this happens in a retreat setting because this settling and collectedness takes some momentum. We have to build that, because we have to interrupt the momentum of being distracted, being busy, taking care of that, solving this problem, thinking, and talking. Of course we're busy with that. But in order to allow this settling to happen, it often takes time. For some people, they will have to meditate for maybe years before they have this; that certainly was my experience. But it's always a movement in that direction. We might have a glimpse: "Oh wow, there was something there." These glimpses are nourishing. They support us and help us recognize there is a different way to be in the world. There is a way in which there is some ease and well-being.

I'll say a little bit more about this well-being and why I took the time to make this difference between gladness, joy, and happiness. Sometimes we have this idea that we have to get more and more concentrated, but another way to think about it is that we're just noticing more and more subtle experiences. This happens with mindfulness practice, and with samadhi we're just noticing things that are a bit more subtle.

I'll say that happiness is more subtle than joy. I talked about joy as this bubbly, "wahoo" kind of feeling. To support concentration, to support this movement of more samadhi or settling, an interesting thing happens. Joy and happiness may be happening at the same time, but joy is so loud that it's pretty much all we notice. Then it starts to settle down, and we start to notice: "Oh yeah, there's this happiness here that's less bubbly, more warm, soft, and cozy." And then the happiness starts to be more prominent, and the joy kind of drains out, leaving just this happiness. There's this shift in the relationship between joy and happiness. Knowing this is a way that we can help support the mind in its continuing settling.

Cultivating the Practice

I keep talking about how maybe this "knock your socks off" type of stuff happens after a lot of practice. But as I said, it's just a natural process. If we give ourselves over to the meditation practice as best we can—maybe it's just a sit, walk, sit; maybe it's a whole day, or a few days; or it's just every day, day after day after day—the mind and the body just get used to settling. You can just sit down and this settling starts to happen.

Here at IMC, we do have half-days and day-longs, and we have retreats at our retreat center as a way to support this practice happening. We sit here for 45 minutes on Monday nights. For most everybody, 45 minutes is a long time. I'll just say for myself, I would never have gone if somebody had a 45-minute sit. No way, I wouldn't go, because I just felt like that was not possible. But it just happened as I started a meditation practice. It wasn't like I was striving for 45 minutes; it just happened.

I want to send two messages. One is that this settling, this samadhi, can really go into some beautiful places. They're not the purpose of practice, but they support our lives. The sense of well-being can be so nourishing, especially if we have this habit of being harsh to ourselves. To have these experiences helps place a salve on that.

I also want to give the message that we don't have to wait until we have these fantastic experiences. We can just notice and allow the sense of well-being that arises, whenever it arises. Often we're dismissive: "Oh yeah, okay, I have to solve this problem, I have to take care of this thing." Like there's something that's not quite right, and we just have this habit of tuning into what's not quite right to take care of the problem. So just an encouragement to notice any feeling of well-being, openness, or warmth that shows up. This will be a support for the mind to settle. Just like settling brings up well-being, well-being brings up settling; they work together.

I want to leave time for some questions, so maybe I'll end there on this idea of samadhi, thinking, and well-being. We don't have to get rid of our thoughts; we can use them as a support, and we can use well-being as a support. With that, maybe we can open it up for questions.

Q&A

Questioner 1: Good evening Diana, thank you again. During the sitting, I found myself trying not to be so harsh. But then once the bell rang, I was like, "Oh gosh, I was supposed to be in the here and now," and I was feeling worried. When things happen at work and you don't feel that sense of just being present, and then you're just thinking about how to solve something, you get frustrated. I know that this practice has helped me not feel so agitated all the time, but I still get really upset when I'm feeling that way because I'm more aware of it. I want to be okay with that, but I don't want to keep striving.

Diana Clark: This is great. Thank you for saying this; I appreciate this very much. First of all, I'll just say that I'm talking about samadhi here. At other times I will talk about mindfulness, which can be a real support for this. When we first start noticing, "Oh my gosh, my mind is crazy and I can't make it do what I want it to do, and I definitely want to feel better"—this is exactly what happens. This is an uncomfortable place where we start to notice more and more how we haven't been noticing. Anytime we can remember to bring in some kindness.

Usually, what happens is we'll set the intention: "Okay, when I notice I'm being harsh, I'm going to try to be a little more kind or warm towards myself." And what usually will happen is you won't remember the whole day. Then maybe the next day you won't remember, and then you'll come to IMC on Monday night and say, "Oh right, they've been talking about not being harsh with oneself." Then maybe you'll remember once or twice during the day. Then you'll forget again.

This is what happens, and it's okay. We are rewiring ourselves. We have a lifetime of being harsh or trying to solve everything by pouncing on thoughts. This is a process that takes time. But can we just be okay with—of course we want to solve it—but there's a way in which we can be okay with our not being okay? That's the place to practice. I just wanted to normalize and support the idea that of course we have these intentions to be mindful and not to have the harshness, but this is exactly how it works. Just one step at a time.

Questioner 2: Thank you. Today was pretty brutal. But I did notice something: I would be switching positions a lot, and finding a comfort in one position. I'd think, "Oh, I'm comfortable now." And then, like 15 minutes later, the discomfort comes, and I didn't really move at all. I thought it was really interesting that I feel my body craving the comfort of sitting, and yet it's not satisfied with that position and it has to change. So not really a question, I just thought that was interesting.

Diana Clark: It's quite something. If you pay attention during the day, notice how often we are shifting our posture in our chairs—maybe every two minutes, a little arm moves or something. We're always shifting our posture, so 15 minutes is pretty good actually compared to what we're often doing. There's a way in which shifting our posture doesn't have to be a problem. We can say, "Oh, my knee is uncomfortable. Would it be better—maybe I'm going to shift my posture now. I'm going to move my knee." And then we just move the knee, observing: moving the knee feels like this. So it's just incorporated into the practice. But I appreciate you saying this. Thank you.

Questioner 3: I'll sometimes be sitting, and especially when I'm sitting with other people and it gets really still, something will kind of fall away. I feel like I'm in this really glowy place, and I'm just really in my body and in the moment. But then so quickly there's this little thought that's like, "Is this samadhi? Am I doing it? I have to keep doing it! I shouldn't be thinking!" And then it never can last, because my mind is trying to hold onto it. What would you advise doing in that moment when the thoughts start to amp back up about the state?

Diana Clark: This is very common. [Laughter] Of course this is very common. One thing you could do is make a note, like "Oh, thinking," and that could be a way to stop the agitation of the thinking. Do you have a sense of what supports that dropping away?

Questioner 3: I think it's just time and sitting. The thoughts start to quiet more and more, and I can let them go. The novel turns into words, and then it kind of sneaks up on me—it happens all of a sudden. Sometimes the thoughts are just a little wave that comes and then leaves, but then I'm like, "Oh, I did such a good job letting go of that thought!" And then they just keep coming.

Diana Clark: It doesn't have to be a problem. You have to experience that maybe a hundred times, a thousand times, and say, "Oh, okay, that's just that." Once we gain familiarity with it, then the idea of "was that samadhi or not?" stops mattering. You stop caring whether it is or not; it just feels like, "Oh, okay, this feels like the right way to go." It sounds like you're going in the right direction. Just do that a hundred times, a thousand times. Stop caring how many times, and then you're there. Stop caring how many times—that's it.

Okay, so we're at the top of the hour. I want to thank you for your practice. I wish you all a wonderful evening, filled with some well-being. Thank you.