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Guided Meditation: Mindfulness as Honesty

Welcome to your meditation, and our meditation together.

As a beginning, one of the concepts that I think is a synonym, almost a synonym, for mindfulness is honesty. In particular, it's honesty with oneself. There's a categorical statement that I like—I think I prefer not having categorical statements, but one that I like is that it's never okay to lie to oneself.

When we sit in meditation and are mindful of our experience, it is an exercise in honestly recognizing what is happening. Whereas many other times the experience is pretty mundane, the comings and goings of breathing, it is a training in just recognizing honestly what's happening now, directly here and now.

There are times when it's difficult to see what's inside. Sometimes self-knowledge is not good news, and so to be honest about that. The mindfulness practice involves being honest, but then we want to do that in a wholesome way, in a skillful way. Always, the analysis in Buddhism is how to do something wholesomely or skillfully, and in a way that's beneficial and healthy. So it's not simply being honest, but to do so in a way that is generous, that is caring, that is non-afflictive—it doesn't cause any harm whatsoever, it doesn't debilitate us or hurt us with self-criticism. Instead, it is something that's open, kind, aware, and generous in its presence. "Oh, this is how it is."

This combination of sitting in honesty can be a helpful idea because it might help you to step back from the immediacy of what's happening—in terms of what you're directly thinking is happening—to seeing a little bit of the bigger picture of your relationship and your reactivity. Your context of what's happening to you as you're with your breathing, as you're with your body or your emotions or even your thoughts. "Oh, this is how it is for me."

It's equally important how we have that honesty, how we do the mindfulness, as it is to be mindful. We try to do it wholesomely or skillfully.

To begin, assume a meditative posture. Then gently close your eyes.

Take a few long, slow, deep breaths, breathing into the very center of your being, including it all from the center outwards.

Breathing in and breathing out, and as you exhale, relax, settling into what is here for you.

Then let your breathing return to normal, and take a few moments to honestly recognize what's here for you. How are you right now?

Do that recognition in a wholesome way, neither being for or against the experience. Neither being celebratory nor upset about what it is, just a simple, honest recognition: this is how it is now.

As you exhale, relax all the places in the body where it's easy to soften without losing a posture that is alert. If you're sitting upright, not giving up a posture which is energetic. Relaxing the shoulders especially. Relaxing the belly. Sometimes relaxing the belly—if you do it as a wide relaxation—allows relaxation all over the lower torso, even the small of the back.

Then settling in with your breathing. This is.

Perhaps sensing and feeling the inhales and exhales as if your awareness is a soft feather that gently brushes against the body that's breathing. So there's a care and a delicacy. Sensing, experiencing the body breathing.

Softening, relaxing the thinking mind. Quieting your thinking with the idea that simple mindfulness, simple recognition, and honesty is meant to be simple. It's meant to be an honesty and recognition with what is obvious. No need to go digging and searching. We allow things to show themselves more clearly over time, but a simple recognition of how we are.

Within it all, to be breathing. Perhaps the simplicity of breathing supports you in not getting entangled or caught up in the experience. So there can be a wholesome, skillful attention to what is simple, light, soft, quiet. Breathing in and breathing out.

Taking a moment or two to step back and check in with yourself. How are you? If you were going to answer that question as honestly and deeply as you could, what would be the honest answer?

I associate honesty with a recognition that is freeing, that is relaxing, opening. The very simple, direct recognition of how we are.

Then, with that recognition, perhaps it's best to return to breathing. Maybe breathing with how you are, breathing through it. Or maybe the recognition of how we are supports us to return to breathing in a little bit more of a fuller, engaged, settled way.

And then coming to the end of the sitting, to again recognize how you are. Is there a way of doing that honestly where it's meaningful, that it's an honest recognition of how you are, that connects, maybe settles you or maybe opens you? Maybe it adds some embodiment to your sense of being, a fullness. Perhaps it awakens a little self-care, goodwill, and kindness to yourself—a willingness to see yourself through the eyes of kindness and love.

Then turning the gaze outward into the world. To be quiet and still internally, but gaze upon the world kindly. Maybe with the imagination that others have the potential to be happy and well, and to wish that for them. To dedicate the goodness, the value, the benefits from this meditation for their sake.

May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings be peaceful. And may all beings everywhere be free.

Dharmette: Kusala (9 of 10) The Buddha's Teaching to his Son

Good morning everyone, and good day. Today we're continuing with the theme of kusala^[1], the Pali word usually translated as either wholesome or skillful.

Partly what's defined as wholesome and skillful is that which is non-afflictive, meaning it doesn't cause harm and doesn't cause pain. That combination of neither harm nor pain—because some things are painful, you know, like today I'm going to the dentist and I think it's going to be a little painful, but it's not harmful, it's actually beneficial. So the things that are beneficial and bring happiness are those things which are wholesome. These things come together very nicely in a teaching the Buddha gave to his son.

The Buddha had one child, a son named Rahula^[2]. He joined his father, lived with his father from the time he was about seven onwards. I don't know what living with his father meant when his father was a monk, but he lived in the monastic world with his father and was a novice monk at the age of seven.

This particular story seems to be when the son was quite young, maybe soon after he became a novice living with his father, seven or eight years old. It seems that he was caught telling a lie. The Buddha then sat him down and said something like, "The religious life, the monastic life of someone who tells a deliberate lie is about as valuable as the amount of water left in this bowl of mine." He turned his eating bowl upside down after having cleaned it, and whatever water was left in there kind of dripped out. It was a somewhat indirect way to say to a young child that what he did was counterproductive or not good.

Then at some point, he goes on and tells his son the criteria for how to know what to do physically with the body, what to say, and even what to think, and it involves reflection. The Buddha begins by saying to his son, "What's the purpose of a mirror?" And the son says, "It's for reflection." In the same way, this is how you should reflect on yourself. This is a way to be a mirror for yourself, to really see what's going on and to help guide you in deciding what you're going to do.

Here is an act of attention, of mindfulness, not just for the sake of mindfulness, but mindfulness for the purpose of knowing how to act in the world—what to say and do, and even what to think. In some ways, this teaching that he gives his son could be seen as simple teachings for a seven or eight-year-old. But there's a tendency in many Buddhist teachers I know, including myself, to see this simple teaching as encapsulating very clearly the thrust of the Buddhist teachings. The center of it. This is what he had to say to his son in a very simple way, that all the rest of the Buddha's teachings and Buddhism can flow from this in a very important way.

This is how he tells his son to consider his actions: An action with the body should be done after repeated reflection. Action by speech should be done after repeated reflection. And action by mind should be done after repeated reflection.

"In this way, Rahula, when you wish to do an action with the body, you should reflect upon the same bodily action thus: 'Would this action that I wish to do with the body lead to my own affliction, or to the affliction of others, or to the affliction of both?'" I think the word "affliction" here could equally mean "harm." Does it lead to your harm, someone else's harm, or to both of your harm? "'Is it an unwholesome bodily action with painful consequences, with painful results?' When you reflect, if you know this action that I wish to do with the body would lead to my own affliction, or to the affliction of others, or to the affliction of both, it is an unwholesome bodily action with painful consequences, with painful results. Then you definitively should not do such an action with the body."

"But when you reflect, if you know this action that I wish to do with the body would not lead to my affliction, or to the affliction of others, or to the affliction of both, it is a wholesome bodily action with happy consequences, with happy results. Then you may do such an action with the body."

He goes on to say the same thing for acts of speech and also acts of the mind. Even in how we think, there's a movement to reflect: "How am I thinking right now? The attitude I have, the bias I have, the desires I have—is this afflictive? Is it harmful to me, to someone else, or to both of us? Is it unwholesome, unskillful, and does it lead to pain, to suffering?" If it doesn't, if it leads to what's beneficial, if it leads to what's wholesome, if it leads to happiness, then go ahead and do it.

That's what he says you should do before you do something. Reflect on it as best you can. While you're doing it, you should also reflect. Have some self-awareness as you're doing something. While you're doing it, if you find out that it's afflictive and unwholesome, then stop doing it. If it's not, then keep doing it.

The value of checking in while we're doing something is we get more information about the situation. We don't always know ahead of time the impact our words or our actions are going to have. Only in the middle of doing something do we say, "Oh wait a minute, I didn't realize the situation is different than what I thought. Actually, for me to say this or do this right now is harmful to me or harmful to others." So continue the reflection while we're doing it.

The Buddha then goes on to tell his son, when you finish doing something, to also be reflective about it in the same way. "Is what I did harmful, unwholesome, painful?" It's interesting here, he says if you have caused harm in this way, then you should go find a wise person that you know and let them know what you did. In other words, be accountable for it.

There's something about letting someone else know what you did that I think is a real wonderful step of honesty. It's a way to work through something or to acknowledge it fully, and to really begin the movement of no longer standing behind that, no longer easily slipping into doing that kind of behavior again. Because now it's known by someone else, it's more likely your own mind is going to be a little more attentive and careful to not do something that you don't want to do, and you have the support of someone else.

Here the Buddha is teaching a reflective life. Mindfulness here, being in the present moment, seeing what's going on, is a support for living a considerate life. Sometimes it might seem that to do so is a lot of work, adding this whole layer of self-reflection. Or self-reflection can slide into being self-conscious and self-critical in negative ways. That's why that third category—to pay attention to what you're doing in your mind—is important. Is it harmful? Is it unwholesome? Is it painful? If it is, stop doing it.

There's a self-corrective mechanism in mindfulness where the very way in which we're mindful, tracking what's going on, should be beneficial. The way we do it should hopefully bring some well-being and happiness. It needs to be a movement of reflection which is not critical, it's not heavy, it's not stressful to do, but one that has a light touch, is generous to ourselves, and is kind to ourselves. It has a nice feeling, kind of like we're our own best friend who is supporting us and helping us see ourselves in a better light and wants the best for us. To have your own best friend inside that wants the best for you, cares for you and supports you, and who is always going to see you in a positive light, but won't let you get away with doing things which are harmful or unwholesome or painful or a cause of suffering.

Here we see in action the practice of working with what's skillful and unskillful, wholesome and unwholesome. One thing I find interesting is that these are not commandments of what you should and should not do. They are how you should investigate—principles for finding out for yourself what is appropriate and not appropriate, not external rules of morality.

We see what is wholesome and unwholesome, skillful and unskillful, as being a valuable part of the Buddha's teachings. I see on the chat someone asks where this is from. It's in the Middle Length Discourses^[3], in the teachings to Rahula. I think it's discourse number 61. So thank you, and we have one more day tomorrow to talk about this topic. I appreciate the opportunity. Thank you.