This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video above. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

Guided Meditation: The Marvel of Knowing

So hello everyone and welcome to our meditation session.

And we are coming to the end of the week where we're focusing on the teachings on the five groupings, areas that we tend to cling to. Some people say these are the five ways of grouping what humans cling to, which is a fascinating idea. And the last one is people cling to consciousness, at least that's the English way of translating viññāṇa^[1], the Pali word.

And for now, I want to say two things about it as we meditate. One is to highlight the miracle of being conscious, the miracle of being, of knowing what's happening in the present moment. It's possible to know something that we are remembering, and we can be lost in the memory, but to really know, "Oh, this is memory," to really know, "This is thinking," to really know, "This is a feeling, this is a sensation, this is a thought," to know it with some clarity—it's a miracle.

How did evolution lead us to this kind of clear capacity to know something? And in mindfulness practice, what we know is what is obvious. To be searching and clinging, searching and stretching and analyzing for what's really happening is not the path of mindfulness. The path of mindfulness is to appreciate the simple capacity to know what's obvious.

It's almost like the capacity to know happens independent of our volition. If we are relaxed, at ease, if we're stable and centered here and now, what a phenomenal thing to be conscious, to be knowing what's happening. And to watch the arising of that knowing in the present moment happen in a certain kind of way, effortlessly. It's a wonderful thing.

And then for that knowing to be wise. For that knowing to see clearly what's there and not be fooled by it into clinging to it, holding on to it. An ancient analogy is someone has a counterfeit coin. Someone tries to give a counterfeit coin to pay for something, and the merchant sees it as a coin, but sees it as a counterfeit coin. "This is not real, this is not to be accepted." So it isn't that things are not real, but the clear cognizance that, "Oh, this is not something to cling to."

So it's a kind of higher-order understanding, a recognition of what's happening that involves some clarity. Oh, it's kind of like it's aware of itself. It's knowing that knows that it's knowing.

And it's knowing that might have enough wisdom in it to either cling to what we're knowing—not enough wisdom so it clings—or wisdom so it doesn't cling. So how is it for you to be knowing your experience? Can it be obvious? The obvious, can it be simple, relaxed, and in the knowing can there be a sense of feeling, intuition, that in the present you're knowing this is knowing? Whatever it is you know, you kind of know this is knowing. Like you're walking and you know, "I'm walking now."

And then is there wisdom or lack of wisdom in that knowing? The lack of wisdom is when knowing is reactive. With wisdom, it's knowing which doesn't react, doesn't cling, doesn't resist, just knows. Knows better than to cling.

So, taking a long deep breath. And maybe a deep inhale, and as you exhale maybe an audible ah. Here you are.

Gently close your eyes. And feel the sensations of your body. Each sensation you experience is evidence of life. Evidence of the animated force of life, vitality. And here you are, maybe feeling the whole field of the body for a few moments. The whole vitality as it appears. A whole shimmering, vibrating, pulsing body. Knowing the animated quality of the body.

As you exhale, to relax the shoulders, soften into the torso. Relaxing the hands and the arms, the fingers. Relaxing the belly, settling in the whole lower torso. Releasing.

On the exhale, softening in the face, the eyes, cheeks, the jaw. As if the muscles can relax away from the skull and gently be held by this sack of skin. And relaxing the thinking mind, maybe first by thinking more slowly, calmly. And maybe also by relaxing any tension, pressure in the thinking mind.

And then to find something in your body that's relatively neutral to be aware of. Some sensation like breathing or anything else. And feel it, know it in the obvious way. No need to analyze it or figure it out. Just the simplest knowing of breathing, of sensation. And maybe just lightly marveling at the capacity to know.

And as you know the breathing, really know it, can you also know that it's not something to cling to, to grasp at, to be reactive to? It just can be known. Where there's no effort to know, it's that simple. It's more like attention opens a window in the mind in the direction of breathing, and the breathing is evident.

If your mind wanders off in thought, when you first notice that you've wandered off, be content to know it obviously. "This is thinking." And marvel at the capacity to know. The marvel before reacting or clinging, judging, just knowing.

And then open the curtains in the mind to allow yourself to experience breathing again. And what is the obvious experience of breathing which the mind knows, where the knowing is not effortful, but there's a marvel at the fact that there is knowing?

The moments of knowing come and go. We know one thing, and then we know the next thing, and then something else. We know one thing and then we find ourselves knowing it again a second time and a third time. A relaxed mind that's present knows. Very simple, maybe the simplest knowing possible. And we know that we know.

The simple knowing of what's happening can be kind of like beginning to slip as you walk across the floor, and then you catch yourself. Maybe a wet spot. Not a dramatic slip, but just enough that you catch yourself. So you find yourself slipping into thoughts and reactions, and the knowing is the catching oneself. "Oh, this is what's happening." Without then getting involved in knowing or adding to the knowing, just the simplest knowing.

And then as we come to the end of the sitting. How simple can you allow there to be a moment of knowing, if you don't need to know anything in particular? What's happening? What's the direct experience of the moment now? What's really present that you can know, and very simply, not being for or against it, without needing to think about it, just know.

And can that knowing, that simplicity of knowing, be a medium for knowing another person, where another person is allowed to be who they are? Our knowing does not interfere with them. Does not see them through the filter of our history or memory or ideas. Just the simplest knowing of a person.

It can be a gift to know without interfering with others, without judging them or needing them to be different, without fearing them, just knowing. The gift is the gift of allowing them to be who they are. It's a kind of a gift of freedom, of peace.

Maybe people will not recognize the gift, but you will. May it be that this practice we do is a practice that allows us to give the gift of kindness, freedom, peace, safety to others.

May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings be peaceful. And may all beings be free. And may this practice of ours contribute to the welfare and happiness of others.

Satipaṭṭhāna (52) The Fifth Aggregate: Consciousness

So hello, and we come to the fifth and final talk on the five groupings, the five khandhas^[2] (aggregates). And so this is an exercise in the discourse on the four foundations of mindfulness (Satipaṭṭhāna^[3]) for cultivating a kind of lucid, clear present moment awareness.

And we come to the last one, which is usually translated into English as consciousness. And it's very likely that that is not the best choice as an English translation, partly because I think very few people either know what consciousness is, or people who study consciousness can agree on it. I think there are so many different opinions and ideas and efforts to try to pin down what consciousness is.

Interestingly enough, it was not a task of people—it's only probably for the last 200 years or so, the modern usage of the word consciousness is relatively recent, and around that concept has gathered these different ideas or associations. The Pali word is viññāṇa, and it's a word that existed in India before the Buddha, but it seems to have meant things like—many translators of the ancient Hindu Upanishadic texts will translate it as understanding, even sometimes as intellect. The Buddha very rarely defines it, and it's possible that the word viññāṇa is used in different ways in different contexts, which makes it a little bit more difficult to pin down what it is.

In these five khandhas, five aggregates, it seems to be an ability to differentiate, a knowing that differentiates. So to know, if you're looking down at a bowl full of mixed beans—red beans, black beans, white beans, pinto beans, all kinds of things—the ability to recognize the distinct kinds of beans from each other, to separate out rather than one big blur of beans, separate out this, this, this. So the Buddha talked about consciousness as what differentiates between salty and not salty, bitter and sweet. This is not very satisfying for a modern English audience that has a little more grand idea of what consciousness is, but it seems to be a kind of heightened knowing, clear knowing of direct experience.

Now, it's related to the third grouping, the saññā^[4] or recognition, the concept we have. It's related to that, but maybe it can be more primitive, prior to the concepts we add on top of things. Or a kind of heightened clarity where we know more, with understanding of what's happening.

So the ancient analogy is that a child might be given a counterfeit coin and simply recognize it as a coin, not realizing it's counterfeit. A merchant who's an expert on how people counterfeit coins will immediately recognize that's a counterfeit coin. And so the recognition that it's a coin is there, but it's heightened with clarity of knowing, "This is not real" or "This is not what we do."

The Buddha talked about these six kinds of consciousness. There is the consciousness which is the knowing that happens when we see—so knowing through seeing, knowing through hearing, knowing through smelling, tasting, knowing through the tactile experience of the body, and knowing what's going on in the mind. And rather than calling them all "knowing," they are six distinct kinds of knowing, the six consciousnesses or six viññāṇas.

Now this is in contrast to what some meditators, some people, some even spiritual traditions will emphasize what consciousness is, as a kind of a continuous unitary field of knowing. That we're always consciousness, always there. Everything is coming and going, everything is impermanent, but it's all occurring on this kind of screen that's always there. Or like consciousness is like the ocean, and then everything else is just the rain falling on the ocean, temporarily there. The waves coming and going on the ocean, but the ocean itself is always there and just under the surface is vast and still and quiet.

The Buddha seems not to have emphasized this kind of consciousness whatsoever. And in fact, I believe more the Theravadin Buddhist, the early Buddhist understanding of this would be that the mind is a constructing activity. And whatever this consciousness is that is emphasized in the fifth aggregate is part of this constructed activity. It's not innate, it's not inherent, it's not always there, it doesn't go from one life to another. It is something also that comes and goes, arises and passes. And in its arising, it's partly a construct of mental functioning. It's a condition of mental functioning, as opposed to something which is independent of the vagaries and changing nature of the mind itself.

And certainly, in this fifth exercise of Satipaṭṭhāna, of the aggregates, what the meditator is meant to see is that this consciousness, or this kind of knowing, appears and disappears. Appears and passes away. And so what we're looking at is something that's changeable and impermanent and inconstant. And so what kind of consciousness is that way? And what kind of knowing? And how is that different from recognition?

So I suggested in the meditation that it's a very simple, very, very simple but very clear knowing. It's what knows all the other aggregates. It knows there's a sensation, it knows there's a feeling tone, it knows that there's a recognition happening at this moment, it knows that there are mental constructs happening, and it knows that it knows. And you can get caught up in an infinite regress of knowing, knowing that I know that I know. But don't bother with that, just keep it very simple, relaxed.

And then that kind of knowing—a sound arises, there's a knowing of a sound that arises with the sound. When the sound goes, maybe the knowing goes. Or maybe the knowing goes faster if we get distracted by something else. We see something, we hear it, we taste something, we touch something, we think something, we feel something, and with each of that, there's a knowing that arises, a simple knowing. And the important aspect is not exactly what consciousness is, what exactly all this is, but rather, whatever way in which we know, there's a recognition that it comes and goes. That it's not constant, it's not permanent. And as we start seeing its inconstant nature, then we will not cling to it. That's the hope, that's the direction we're going.

And so consciousness also can be an object of clinging. And sometimes people can easily let go of all things except consciousness, if they're strongly identified with consciousness as being their true self, as "This is who I am and this is how I survive, this is how I will always exist" or something.

And the deeper the Vipassanā^[5] practice goes, the less we can recognize or find this kind of continuous ever-present field of consciousness, because everything is seen just in its momentary aspect coming and going. And whether there is a consciousness which persists over time, in a sense that's not so very interesting for early Buddhism to specify. What's important is in our direct experience, as we practice deeper and deeper, we won't find it. That does not mean we have to decide there is none, it just means we don't find it. And the purpose for not finding it is so that we will let go of clinging to it, and we're trying to let go of all clinging. So the functional aspect of this practice is all about the end of clinging, not to come to a philosophical conclusion about what consciousness is or isn't.

So just in terms of what consciousness is or isn't, what I'm talking about today just barely scratches the surface of a fascinating concept. But I hope that it gives you just enough information, ideas of practicing to somehow begin appreciating the miracle of knowing in simple ways. Knowing hearing, seeing, tasting, touching, smelling, and then the mind knowing things. And then seeing how when objects or experiences arise in these six sense doors, they come and they go, and the knowing of it comes and goes. Sometimes the knowing comes and goes faster than the object.

And that knowing can be very relaxed, easeful, just being with what's obvious, and free of all the self-referencing where we get tripped up, where we slip, where we get caught, where we suffer. And we're pointing here to a simplicity of being with all our senses, all our experience, but very, very simple and free.

So thank you. And we'll continue, we have three more exercises to do before we finish this, the four foundations of mindfulness. And so next week we'll do the six sense bases and the fetters, the knots that get formed around them. So thank you.