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Guided Meditation: Setting an Intention

Welcome, welcome. Good evening. Or maybe it's not evening when you're listening to this, so whenever it is, a really warm welcome.

So, we'll begin with a guided meditation.

Just taking our seat, our meditation posture. And it's worthwhile taking a little bit of time to get the seat in a way that we feel balanced and supported. And allowing this sense of balance and support to maybe infuse our mood, our experience of being here at this moment.

So we can sit and know that we're sitting. Checking in with the body.

Can we have a warm welcome for whatever experiences we're having at this moment? It doesn't mean they're pleasant; it just means that we're not slamming the door in the face of these experiences.

Maybe there's some tension in the neck or the shoulders. We can bring our awareness and see if that allows some of the tension to dissipate, to soften. Of course, without making it a project that it has to go away.

Bringing attention to our jaw and the area around our eyes, other places where we often hold tension.

And then to rest our awareness on the sensations of breathing. Feeling the sensations, maybe with the movement of the chest or the belly. Maybe feeling the air going in and out of the nose.

It might be that when we first sit down, there's just a cascading waterfall of thoughts, and we only every now and then catch our breath, so to speak. We remember, "Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be meditating." That's okay, we just begin again with the sensations of breathing.

It absolutely doesn't matter how many times we have to begin again. Each time we do, we're strengthening the capacity with the mind to turn away from thoughts and towards something else, in this case, the breath.

Maybe we find that we're more with the idea of the breath rather than the actual sensations. That's okay, we don't have to make it a problem.

But the movement is towards actually feeling the expansion, the contraction with breathing. The stretching with breathing. Not so much the idea, but the experience.

And it can be helpful, to support our being with the sensations of breathing, to set the intention: "Okay, I'm going to be with the entirety of the in-breath."

Setting the intention to be with the beginning, middle, and end of the in-breath.

Maybe we set the intention, it supports our practice for a few breaths, and then maybe the mind drifts away. It doesn't have to be a problem. We just again set the intention to be with the entirety of the in-breath.

Of course, we can enlarge our intention to be with the in-breath and the out-breath.

We can use setting an intention as a gentle way of helping us connect with the sensations of breathing, without using a sledgehammer or pouncing on the breath. Just simply setting an intention to support just a little bit more connection, just a little bit more effort.

So we can use this practice of setting an intention in a relaxed, easy way. Not an ambitious intention necessarily, but to set the intention as a way of just applying a little bit more effort. So that our mindfulness can be a little bit more connected with the sensations, not so much just about the thinking, or the thoughts, or the ideas.

Setting an intention as a way of making effort.

Efforting

So welcome, welcome, welcome, everybody. It's nice to be here practicing together.

Tonight I wanted to talk a little bit about effort, and this recognition that some type of effort is required if this path is going to become something more than just theoretical. I remember when I heard Gil^[1] use this expression of "bookstand Buddhists"—I think that's what he said—but this idea of just reading lots of the Buddha's philosophy. Which is great, but it's not the same, of course, as practicing. If we want to make this transition, or bridge the gap between aspiring to and actually living this path of practice, this path of greater wisdom, greater compassion, then some effort is needed. Some energy, some activity. There's some doing that needs to happen.

Because certainly it takes effort to go against the stream of our habits. To go against the stream of these patterns of body and mind that we've been cultivating for a lifetime, and these patterns of our relationships, these patterns of social structures that keep us in a groove. If we want to do something a little bit different, or a lot different, then it's going to require some energy, some effort, some activity.

We might say that right effort, which is the sixth step on the Eightfold Path^[2]—many of you are familiar with this. We use this expression "right effort," we could also say "wise effort." I first learned it as right effort and somehow that expression just stays in my mind: Sammā vāyāma^[3]. Right effort, we could say, is swimming against the stream perhaps, but swimming towards the wholesome and away from the unwholesome. That's maybe one way that we could think of right effort.

It's the way that we can make our aspirations transformational. For whatever it is, whether it's the Buddhist path, or learning calligraphy, or pottery, or tennis, or bringing along some changes in our social world, working for justice and peace—all these things take effort. And of course, effort depends on energy.

I'll define for myself here that effort is the application of energy. It is a particular way in which we're using our energy. But what is energy? We can think of energy as something that we can feel in the body. Maybe it's the sense of vitality, or maybe a really fine vibration. I don't really know how to explain it; maybe you have your own words that you might use when you feel energetic, or you feel like you have energy, how that feels.

In the mind, we might say that energy is associated with a little bit of glee or gladness. Or also with being engaged with whatever material it is we're looking at, whatever media. Whether it's just what the senses are bringing us—what we're seeing, smelling, tasting, etc.—or whatever is arising.

So, some energy in the mind is being engaged and connected with what's happening, as well as maybe some happiness. But we don't always feel like we have energy, of course. So what are some things that can support some energy?

One is bringing attention to this experience of energy. Maybe we feel like we don't have quite enough, but maybe we can bring to mind or feel into it. Sometimes we feel energy with our hands; there might be a little bit of tingling or something there. Or maybe there might be a way in which we can sit upright, and that takes a little bit of energy. So tuning into that, because just like everything else, when we bring our attention to it, it brings some energy.

If we bring our attention to energy, it's likely that the energy will increase. If we can bring our attention in a way that is not demanding that the energy be there, requiring things to be [unintelligible], so it doesn't have some secret aversion tied up with it. Just resting our attention on the experience of energy, whether we have that in our mind or body, is one way to increase it.

Another way is just recognizing, especially with meditation practice or this Buddhist path, to practice with others. Whether that's virtually, as we are right now, those of you who are on YouTube with me. There's something that's helpful to sit with others. We at IMC^[4] are offering these meditation retreats online, this recognition that it helps to be together. Even if we're not physically together, it kind of helps the energy. There's a sense of encouragement, and creating a container, or maybe some inspiration. Maybe we're inspired by somebody else's practice. So another way in which we might increase energy is to be with others, whether physically or virtually.

Another way energy is aroused is when we play at the edge of our comfort zone. That is, when we get out a little bit of the grooves of these habits, and instead we touch into something a little bit different. Or maybe it's just a glimpse of another possibility, like, "Oh, what was that? Oh, there's something here in this direction." I know for me that has often happened in meditation practice. When stumbling into some new territory, I know I've had this experience a number of times like, "Oh, that was different." And then there tends to be a little bit more engagement. Whether it's with our meditation practice or with our daily life. I like this word play. Play at the edge of our comfort zone. I'm using this phrase "comfort zone," but we could also say the edge of what's familiar, or the edge of these grooves we sometimes get in. Just explore.

And then the Buddha^[5] talked about arousing energy. Not so much how to—well, maybe it is a little bit about how to—but also offering some encouragement. This is just an excerpt from a sutta^[6] that's longer and has more elements to it, but I don't know why, I kind of get a kick out of this. So this sutta goes like this. Here's just an excerpt: "A mendicant, a bhikkhu^[7], a practitioner, somebody who's practicing, has some work to do, and they think, 'I have some work to do, but while doing it my body will get tired, so let me lie down.' So they lie down and don't rouse energy for attaining the unattained, for achieving the unachieved, and for realizing the unrealized."

So, this idea, just thinking about doing work, it's like, "Okay, that's going to make me tired, I better lie down." And then the Buddha, of course, contrasts this: "A mendicant has some work to do, and they think, 'I have some work to do. While working, it's not easy to focus on the instructions of the Buddhas, so I better preemptively rouse up some energy for attaining the unattained, for achieving the unachieved, for realizing the unrealized.'"

They're seeing, "Oh, okay, I'm not going to be able to practice. I don't expect awakening is going to happen in the next moment because I'll be working, so let me apply energy, effort towards my practice now rather than lying down."

There are a few more. Furthermore: "I have to go on a journey, but while walking my body will get tired, so let me lie down." And they lie down and don't rouse energy. And then in contrast: "A mendicant has to go on a journey. While walking, it's not easy to focus on the instructions of the Buddha. I better preemptively rouse up energy."

The sutta goes on with six other cases: going for alms rounds, not having enough food, having finished work, and some other things. But I appreciate very much the Buddha recognizing, "Yeah, we often do this. I better conserve my energy." Or, "I'm not going to practice because I have other things to do that are pressing. I can't practice while I'm doing that." We have this either/or idea. And instead, the Buddha is saying no, we don't have to believe these ideas that we can't practice while we're doing something, or that we can't use these other responsibilities as encouragement to practice. They can be a support for practice as opposed to a distraction. An opportunity to rouse energy.

Maybe that's not language that I would use, but just to bring up a little bit more energy so we can have some effort.

[Coughs] I'm sorry about that, having to cough with some urgency there.

Right effort is swimming towards the wholesome and away from the unwholesome. Gregory Kramer^[8] summarizes this practice of right effort as "out with the bad and in with the good." The "bad" refers to those actions that bring harm either to ourselves or others, or those mental qualities that keep us from settling down and seeing clearly, headed towards more wisdom.

The classic core of what is abandoned—I'm just going to name a list of lists here, many of you will be familiar with this—the five hindrances^[9]. The three unwholesome roots, that is, greed, hatred, and delusion. The taints: this intoxication with sense pleasures, intoxication with self-making, and ignorance. These are some of the things that we're abandoning. Of course, we're abandoning clinging, upādāna^[10], clinging to the aggregates, clinging to this conceit of "I am", clinging to views. This is so much of Buddhist practice; it's abandoning what is unwholesome and cultivating what is wholesome. Often we give dharma talks just on one little aspect of this, but many of you are familiar with these unwholesome qualities that we're abandoning.

And then of course, on the other side, the wholesome ones: the seven factors of awakening^[11]. The wholesome roots of non-greed (generosity), non-hatred (which is love), and non-delusion (which is wisdom). We cultivate the five faculties. We cultivate the brahmavihāras^[12], the pāramīs^[13]. I had all these lists, so I'm just giving you a list of lists just to help. Sometimes for me, it's helpful to have that 10,000-foot view. Okay, sometimes we're abandoning things, sometimes we're cultivating things. But of course, there's this interrelationship between abandoning the unwholesome and cultivating the wholesome. It's not like they're completely independent.

Sometimes it's helpful to organize our thoughts, thinking that there is that which is to be abandoned and that which is to be cultivated, but there's this dynamic process or dynamism between these two, and we can work with this. We notice that when we're cultivating calm with our meditation practice, then some agitation is getting abandoned. When we're cultivating loving-kindness, ill will is getting abandoned.

We can use this. When we want to abandon the hindrance of desire, we work with the hindrances often by just bringing our attention to them. As we abandon the hindrance, we can see that more settledness arises; we are more able to be present. So there's this interrelationship between them.

Sometimes it might be that what's unwholesome is really predominant in our mind, predominant in our experience, and that's what we work with. Maybe we're already a little bit more settled and able to cultivate some of these other qualities, whether it's the brahmavihāras, the pāramīs, the factors of awakening, or just simple mindfulness or concentration.

If we're going to be applying effort in either of these ways, abandoning or cultivating, there's also the manner in which we do it. How we do it. One thing is the direction we're going, but another is how we do it. It's really easy to conflate the word "effort" with an intense—maybe we want to say over-intense—focus. A bearing down. Sometimes I use this expression of a "sledgehammer." There's this feeling of, "I'm going to do this now," and there's this sledgehammer with our attention or with our focus. Perhaps we have some kind of dharma ambition. It is beautiful to have these inspirations, but this dharma ambition for greater peace and freedom gets translated into over-striving. Efforting in such a way that is not sustainable and ends up being unhelpful.

I learned this the hard way. Probably it's the only way to learn it. I will say that at one retreat, in a practice discussion with one of the teachers, the teacher said to me that I was a striver. And I was quite offended: "I am not a striver!" Of course, later I saw I was striving so much, but I didn't realize it.

I have certainly spent many retreats with a real bearing down on trying to get concentrated. And certainly, I could get concentrated, but there was a brittleness to it. There was a little bit of an unhealthiness to it, almost a hatred towards everything that wasn't supporting my getting concentrated. So there can definitely be this over-efforting, over-striving in a way that isn't healthy. But at the same time, especially with meditation practice or any Buddhist practice that we do, if we don't apply enough effort, if we're a little bit cavalier—lackadaisical, perhaps—then this just leads to discouragement. We don't see the fruits of effort if we're not really placing effort. And then this leads to doubt. "Does this work? Does this practice work? Do these teachings work? What about these teachers, do they know what they're talking about?" We have to apply some amount of effort in order to see some of the fruits.

Maybe some different levels of effort are needed at different times. Again, Gregory Kramer says that sometimes right effort is like the strenuous effort required to turn the soil and plant our gardens. It takes work to turn the soil and plant the gardens. And then he continues, at other times, right effort is like the steady application of the sun's heat as it slowly penetrates the soil and warms the seeds. If we want to see the fruit of our efforts, both are required: turning the soil, planting the seed, letting them have sun, letting them soak up the water.

So discerning which type of effort is needed for whatever we're doing is part of this practice of right effort. I would say it's also part of the art of practice: knowing how much effort, and not only knowing how much, but how to turn the dial. How can we back off, and how can we apply more?

One way we can do this is to practice during meditation with mindfulness of breathing. As I did in the guided meditation, if we notice that we are lost in thought a lot, we can just first allow the attention to begin again. The energy is to just begin again with the sensations of breathing. And then, when we start to feel like, "Okay, there's a little bit more attention to breathing, there's a little bit more capacity or ability to be with the breath," then we can look at what the effort is that we're applying. Ask ourselves this question in a really gentle, relaxed way, not in a demanding voice: "What is the effort?" As I said in the guided meditation, we can use intention to help turn up the effort if we feel like we need it. We could see: are we pouncing on the breath? Are we really holding on to it, straining?

Or perhaps there's another way in which we're kind of mindful, like, "Yeah, okay, I'll get around to it. I know the breath is there, but this thought is very provocative, and I'll kind of do both at the same time." There's this kind of mindfulness where, yes, we know we're breathing, but we're also simultaneously thinking. Because there isn't a lot of clarity, it feels like there are two parallel tracks going on. Because we have some mindfulness of the breath, we feel like we're mindful. Actually, what's happening—if we had a little bit more focus we could see this—is mindfulness of the breath, and then a thought, and then the breath, and then a thought. The mind is actually wavering back and forth.

So we don't need strong effort, but sometimes we might need just a little bit more effort. With meditation, we can set the intention; it's one way of just dialing up the effort a little bit. Setting the intention, "Okay, I'm going to be mindful for the entirety of the in-breath." It's not a very ambitious intention, but it's something we can do. Setting the intention makes it more likely that, in fact, we will be with all of the in-breath. Chances are we'll be with a number of in-breaths, and then the mindfulness will start to wane, and when we notice that, we can set the intention again.

If we need to lessen the effort during the meditation, if we find that we really are quite tight—and this can often happen when we're trying to get concentrated, we might have this idea that we really have to, I think Gil uses this expression, bear down. This real way we have to strive or strain.

One way to lessen the effort is to open up the awareness. If we're being with the breath, maybe just be more broadly with the body. Sometimes I use the expression "to sit and know we're sitting." Maybe that's one way. Maybe that's too broad; maybe just choose some contact of the body where it's touching the seat, where your feet are touching, what your hands are touching, as well as the sensations of breathing. So not such a small point, but a little bit larger. Another way to broaden our awareness is to bring it to sounds. Kind of open up the awareness to sounds and just allow sounds to arise. So we're still being mindful, but not bearing down and straining quite so much. That's one way in which we might be able to decrease the effort.

We might also have this fear of, and resistance to, the application of this energy, or this exertion or zeal. For those of you who are familiar with the suttas, there is this language of zeal, exertion, and I think even this language often gets translated as "strive." We might have this fear or resistance. It might feel like the last thing we want is somebody telling us to strive, this feeling of having a whip. But can we come to an understanding of right effort that is helpful and wholesome? That recognizes there can be a joy associated with a heartfelt commitment. A commitment to something that's wholesome.

This joy arises when the effort isn't too much, but instead is more like a commitment: "Yes, I am committing myself to this practice for this next hour." Or maybe for this next half hour, however long you're sitting. Or just for Buddhist practice more in general, taking the refuges^[14].

Can we also allow ourselves to apply ourselves with confidence, knowing that we can back off if it's too much effort, and we can turn it up if it's not quite enough effort? Can we come to this understanding of applying effort through investigation, through exploration, through noticing? We can appreciate that applying effort to this practice is such a beautiful way to get out of the streams of our habits, the streams of our social structures and our relationships, and help us to find more and more freedom, more and more ease, while we are abandoning the unwholesome and cultivating the wholesome.

May our effort be a support for us. Not feeling like something burdensome, something that we have to do. Not something that is overly taxing, so that it is not sustainable. But instead, that allows us to have this commitment to practice, this commitment to non-harming, this commitment to greater peace, this commitment to discovering more freedom. So that those we come in contact with, and spreading out from there, our practice and the way we apply effort can be a support not only for ourselves but for all beings everywhere. Thank you.