Foundations of Mindfulness Part 8 - Mindfulness of Feeling Tones

This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Gil Fronsdal: Foundations of Mindfulness Part 8 - Mindfulness of Feeling Tones. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on March 26, 2019. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Foundations of Mindfulness Part 8 - Mindfulness of Feeling Tones

Introduction

Good evening. On these Monday evenings, we're in the middle of a series of talks on the Buddha's teachings on the Four Foundations of Mindfulness. The fundamental text, the source text for the whole mindfulness phenomena that we have around the world now, comes from this one text. In it, there are thirteen exercises to do, and these exercises are meant to develop a heightened sense of awareness. This awareness is so strong that we know that we're aware. We're not preoccupied with the things we're aware of—our thoughts, our concerns, our taxes, whatever it might be. The existence or presence of awareness is palpable and can be perceived in the mind's eye as really clear: "Wow, I'm aware." Once that awareness gets that strong, it opens the door for seeing and having insight that is liberating.

The whole purpose of these exercises is to move a meditator towards liberation. They have a particular purpose. It's not using mindfulness in order to help us with the many different important events, stories, and situations of our life that we run into. We know that mindfulness helps in all kinds of things and certainly can help us with the challenges of our life that we have to think about and reflect on. But this mindfulness practice is honing in the attention to those phenomena, those ways of experiencing ourselves that support this heightened awareness. The point of the practice is not to sort through the life issues we have; it's almost like the life issues are put on a shelf, or we see them in a new way if we focus on them. So we're not really dealing with the issues. We're dealing with something much more fundamental.

That distinction is very important to see. If people are doing mindfulness practice and they're trying to explore and deal with their personal issues, but the instructions are actually to set up attention in a different way, there can be a misunderstanding. There's nothing wrong with looking at our personal issues—it's actually very important at times in life to use mindfulness to do so. It's a very important part of life, and we grow and develop through it and sort our life out. But some people I meet seem to think that's all mindfulness is about. So it's all about focusing on their psychology, their emotions, their stories, and what's happening in their lives in a way that is never-ending. It's kind of like a labyrinth or maze; once you go into certain parts of our life, you'll never come out. So it's like stepping away to look back at all this life that we have through a different perspective.

The Seventh Exercise: Vedanā

This new perspective becomes particularly clear when we get to the seventh exercise of the thirteen, which is mindfulness of feelings. Some people get really excited: "Finally we're going to deal with emotions and good old feelings!" The problem is that it's not emotions. It's rather unfortunate that they translate this Pali^[1] word vedanā^[2] as "feelings." In some ways, it's the most straightforward, simple English word we could choose, but it can be misleading.

The word comes from the verb vid, which means to know or to experience—to have direct, immediate experience. Not like, "You had an experience of the beach today," but if you're at the beach, the experience of the contact of the wind against your cheek. It is that kind of sensory contact. Vedanā literally means something like "that which is known" or "that which is experienced."

There are many things that we can experience, but they are placed into particular categories. In different places in the suttas, the Buddha categorizes vedanā in many different ways. But in the text of the Four Foundations of Mindfulness, he does it in a particular way. He focuses on what can be seen as the common denominator of all experiences. All experiences we have have one of three qualities to them. What's referred to as feeling is these three qualities that all experience can have: pleasant, unpleasant, or neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

What's interesting is when you have something that's a common denominator or universal to all experience, you have a toehold into being mindful of it and paying attention to it. In any situation at all, you have this perspective that you can bring to bring the mind to a different state of heightened awareness. It's a very powerful state.

Of the Flesh and Not of the Flesh

In this exercise, there's a distinction that's made, or two general categories that are very important. Think of a walnut. You take it off the tree and it has the shell around the outside. It's hard. Many seeds have shells on the outside that protect the germ or the real seed on the inside. With the walnut shell, it takes some work to get to the meat—the seed that's inside. With vedanā, it's almost like there's the shell that can be known, and then there's that which is more essential inside the seed.

The shell is what they refer to in the text as "of the flesh." The preceding six exercises have all been about mindfulness of the body. It's mostly mindfulness of the body through the flesh, through the sensory apparatus we have that we can feel and connect to the world. Buddhism puts tremendous importance on mindfulness of the body and being embodied. There's no denigration of it; it's very important. But it's still kind of the shell.

There's something like a seed inside, and that's called "not of the flesh." It's provocative that Bhikkhu Bodhi^[3], who translates many of these texts, calls these two categories (what I'm calling the shell and the seed inside) "worldly" and "unworldly." Which would you prefer? It's a little strange. The literal Pali means "of the flesh" and "not of the flesh."

"Of the flesh" are those experiences that come from the surface of our life. "Not of the flesh" are those that well up more deeply inside. I like to think of them as being connected to the quality of our inner life, the quality of our inner being. We can go through life and be in the rain and cold, and that's miserable. Then the rain stops, the sun comes out, and that's delightful. That's all "of the flesh"; that's worldly. It's on the outside, it comes and goes.

But how are we really deep inside? The surface might be a little bit bummed about the rain, but deep inside there might be very deep contentment or a sense of well-being and happiness. The sun might come out and be beautiful, and on the surface we relax and take off our raincoat. But if you really go deep inside, we might find, "I'm really lonely," or "I'm really kind of sad about something." What is it like really deep inside? That's what we're getting into: the quality of our inner life.

It turns out that we're the custodian of that quality. No one else can do it for us. We're the caretakers of how we are in the depths of our being. Learning how to take care of that, how to be mindful of that, and how to practice in such a way that we can start supporting and nourishing our inner life so that it becomes supportive, helpful, and in the end, liberating, is the path.

Radical Simplicity

The qualities of what we can experience—that common denominator—can be pleasant, unpleasant, or neither pleasant nor unpleasant. That's about as exciting as it gets! It's kind of like suddenly the room gets quiet and dull. "Pleasant, unpleasant, neither pleasant nor unpleasant... you know, that's pretty uninteresting. I'd rather have rapture!" Rapture is pleasant. "This is boring, this is getting complicated"—that's unpleasant.

I've done this where I go into a situation that's socially quite complex. The dynamics at a party are difficult, or the noise in a store is complicated. You're trying to find your way, trying to make sense of it, trying to find peace with it. And then stepping back and realizing, "Wait a minute, this is just an unpleasant situation." To simplify it like that gives a toehold, a perspective to relate to it. "Oh, it's just unpleasant." I don't have to go into all the details of who did what, who said what, and the conditions that brought it up. The stress that I feel of being in this difficult situation is mostly a reaction to how unpleasant it is. Keep it real simple and experience it as the unpleasant aspect of this complicated situation. The unpleasantness is much more simple. It gives us a toehold to be present for it, to see it without getting swept into the complexity of the stories.

The same thing applies to something that's intensely pleasant. Why would you want to step back? Once it's pleasant, you just want to indulge in it. But indulging in something, while fine in some ways, is not conducive to cultivating this heightened liberated awareness. This heightened liberated awareness is really special to have. So even in a very pleasant situation, someone might decide, "I don't want to get swept up in that. It's just a pleasant situation," as opposed to being enamored or enchanted with it. Then the mind wakes up. It's not caught in it. To the degree that we can avoid getting caught in what's pleasant, we develop the capacity to also not get caught into what's unpleasant.

This boring thing of pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral turns out to be one of the Buddha's most important teachings. The reason for that is that it lays at the genesis, at the nexus of so much of our life. It's rather humbling to realize how much of our life is constructed on our reactions to the basic pleasant and unpleasantness of experience.

The Buddha describes how whole complicated religious philosophies and political platforms have their genesis in someone experiencing something as pleasant or unpleasant and reacting. "This is unpleasant and I have to get rid of it, and now I have to have a whole political philosophy to explain why." The Buddhist analysis is that pleasant and unpleasant are fundamental to our reaction and construction of ourselves in the life and the world we live in. If we can get a handle on this—if we can see how we react at the moment of contact in the present moment—we can actually see the experience of pleasant and unpleasant and not be swept up into the reactivity and the story-making of the mind. Then we have a better chance of cultivating this heightened awareness that we're looking for in mindfulness practice.

The Buddha said the instructions are: when things are pleasant, know them as pleasant; when things are unpleasant, know them as unpleasant; and when they're neither pleasant nor unpleasant, know them as such. Some people find this instruction phenomenally helpful. I find it helpful, but I don't make it my primary practice. I've known people who have really taken this in, and it's really helped them get concentrated, mindful, and free of their experience.

The Transition Inward

After introducing those three types of feeling, the text goes on. It says that when there's a pleasant experience of the flesh, one knows it's a pleasant experience of the flesh. When there's a pleasant experience that's not of the flesh—this deeper place inside—one knows that to be a pleasant experience not of the flesh.

What's going on here? I think there's a transition being made in this text. There are thirteen exercises, and the seventh one is the midpoint. Whoever constructed this text very carefully constructed the midpoint of it to highlight something important. In the midpoint, there's this transition from "of the flesh" to "not of the flesh"—from the shell to the kernel inside. There's a movement away from what can be called "of the body" to that which is deeper inside. The first step of that is the feeling tone. Next week, we'll see that the following exercise has to do with mind states. Mind states are really getting down into the quality of our inner life and how we really feel. After that, there are five more exercises that have to do with understanding how our mind states are influenced by particular mental factors, how we get entangled, and how we get free. All of these elements have to do with the depth of the inner quality of being.

Sometimes this "not of the flesh" refers to those feelings that are related to the practice that we do as we meditate. There are a series of upwelling emotions, sensations, and feelings that arise from the practice itself. We're not getting a massage, we're not getting good food, and it's not dependent on the weather. It's dependent on the capacity of the mind to let go temporarily of worldly concerns and develop concentration, stillness, peace, and a certain kind of inner joy that can well up. It wells up for no good reason except that we're getting concentrated.

For some people, that's a revolutionary kind of experience. Until that time, they've always been dependent on something in the world being just right—having the right flavor ice cream, the right weather, or being with the right people. If our happiness and well-being are dependent on the conditions of the world, it's a little bit like shifting the deck chairs on the Titanic as it's going down. We're constantly shifting that which is very impermanent. It just doesn't stay the same.

I saw this in myself today. I was uncomfortable for a while, then I was comfortable, and then I was uncomfortable some more. So I went and had lunch. After lunch I thought that was good, but then maybe I ate too much and felt drowsy. I didn't like being drowsy, so I lay down to take a ten-minute nap, but I woke up not so contented. So then I went for a walk, and that was nice, except it was raining. That was nice, except my pants got all wet. It just goes on and on with the conditions of the world.

But to discover a sense of deep inner well-being that is not dependent on the conditions of the world is a phenomenal thing to do. To realize, "I don't have to always be changing the conditions, adjusting everything to be happier; I just have to tap into this inner way of being and be the custodian of it." We learn that when we start meditating. Over time, we slowly learn to let go of the concerns of the day, the stories we're caught up in, our self-preoccupation, and our self-representations—the stories of "Me, Myself, and Mine" that we swim in. We let go temporarily of our concerns for the world and settle into some deeper sense of simplicity, steadiness, stability, peacefulness, joy, happiness, and even, oddly enough, various kinds of love.

It's one of the fantastic things about this deep inner quality below the shell. We can have forms of love that have no object. Most love has an object, like a person you're in love with. But to have this feeling of love well up that has no object, no person, no thing, not even ourselves—it's just a radiance of love. We have all these wonderful capacities if we tap in under the shell to this inner quality of being that can well up from the inside, independent of the conditions of the world around us. To be able to tap into that and carry that with us through the world is part of the art of this practice.

First, the exercise is to simply know the experiences as pleasant, unpleasant, and neither pleasant nor unpleasant. As we tune into that level of experience, we use it to be aware of how we react. There is frequently instantaneous reactivity. We go for or against; we like it or we don't like it. It's possible to see how that reactivity happens and stop doing it. It's possible to settle back and just let that pleasant be pleasant with no reactivity, no holding on, no leaning towards it. And the unpleasant to be just the unpleasant.

One of the benefits of that capacity to just be free in the middle of pleasant and unpleasant is that it's possible to have joy together with pain. If we're reactive to pain, caught in the grip of it, pushing and wanting it differently, there's no room in the psyche for joy. I've had intense pain and very intense joy at the same time, mostly in meditation where things are simple enough that you can navigate through that.

I'd recommend this for you through this week: as you go through your life, try to keep it so simple that you just tune into the pleasant and unpleasant quality of what's going on. See how that can be a mirror to your reactivity, your preferences, your likes and dislikes, and your ways of going for and against. Ask yourself, "Do I need to like or not like this? Do I need to be for or against it? Do I need to go towards the pleasant and hold onto it? Do I need to react and pull away from the unpleasant?" What's it like to just be there, breathing and stable right in the middle of it? "Oh, this is an unpleasant situation."

Then the exercise goes a little deeper. Once we get a sense of this pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral, it's possible to begin distinguishing the pleasant and unpleasant that is of the shell, of the flesh, having to do with the vicissitudes of life, from the deeper "not of the flesh." According to Bhikkhu Bodhi, these deeper, spiritual feelings begin bubbling up and arising independent of the vicissitudes of life. Can you tune in and notice that for yourself? Can you notice how some things that are pleasant are just because the weather is a certain way, while other things seem to be connected to some deeper root inside of us?

They say that unpleasant experiences which are "not of the flesh" are the unpleasant feelings that can come when we're disconnected from the goodness inside. Or, an unpleasant feeling arises when we really want to practice, tap into these deeper roots, and move on the path of freedom, but we can't. That frustration, that disappointment, that yearning, which is unpleasant—the tradition calls that an experience "not of the flesh" that's unpleasant. But when we can pursue that, when we can engage in meditation and practice, that's when these deeper wellsprings get tapped into and bubble up.

What do you know about these deep wellsprings inside of you? What do you know about goodness, well-being, peace, or something beautiful that resides in the quality of your inner life? That's worth pursuing, protecting, and acknowledging. It's worth giving time to and allowing it to grow and nourish. You want to incubate it. Sit on it, be with it, and allow it to develop. For some people, this inner quality stuff is quite fragile. Some people hardly ever tap into it; they don't even know it's there. Occasionally it happens by accident, but it can easily be lost because we are so easily swept up into the big concerns of our life.

How do we stay close to it and incubate it? How do we allow it to nourish, grow, develop, and become strong? One of the ways to do that is to recognize it: "Oh, this is not of the flesh. This is this inner quality."

I find it quite remarkable that in this exercise, the Buddha is simplifying what we focus on in being mindful. There's no story, no analysis, no complicated ideas. It's just this radical simplicity: is it pleasant, is it unpleasant, or neither? So much can come out of that. It's really a doorway into a tremendous amount of depth in this practice.

Q&A

Question: Gil, suppose you've had an opportunity to be generous and you can see that your generosity is doing some good for someone. That feels good. Maybe you didn't even get thanked, but just knowing that you've been helpful feels very good. Would that pleasant feeling be more of this world, or inner?

Gil Fronsdal: If one has a pure form of generosity, and there's upwelling good feelings inside, is that of the flesh or not of the flesh? I suspect it's not of the flesh if it's really pure. I could be generous to someone and hope everyone noticed: "Did people notice how generous I was? Boy, that was great!" No, not that. There is going to be a feeling that feels to have some depth to it.

Question: One of the traps I get into in my mind is I imagine a situation and I turn that into this very painful experience internally. It didn't happen, it's not going to happen, but it's all based on fear. I suppose if I were being mindful it would be to label that pleasant or unpleasant, or just stop the thinking altogether.

Gil Fronsdal: That would be nice! Yeah, maybe if you saw the fantasy or the imagination you're making up as being something unpleasant, two things might happen. You might say, "This is so unpleasant I don't need to bother with this. I've done it so many times, I know where it's going. This is unpleasant," and just pull back and let go if you can. The other thing that might happen—which sometimes is more realistic because it's not so easy to let go—is we can see, "This is unpleasant, but why am I chasing it? Why am I staying and gnawing at it?" Then you might see the attachment you have, the fear you have, or the emotion that's propelling it. Sometimes that simplicity of just seeing pleasant and unpleasant can help us look at the reactivity or the drive we have connected to it.

Question: When you feel something not of the flesh, like a good feeling of contentment or well-being, you suggest you can just stay with it and enjoy it, like during meditation?

Gil Fronsdal: Yeah, you can. The idea of "enjoying it" is a little dangerous because I can have attachment in it. Enjoying is a word that straddles indulging and just allowing it to be there. So we allow it to be there and appreciate it, but we don't indulge in it.

Questioner: I find that I could let it be, but I'm worried that when it's not there I'd be looking for it.

Gil Fronsdal: If it's there, let it be, but appreciate its presence. Value it without being attached to it. Because if we don't acknowledge it and appreciate it, it's easy to overlook it and get caught up in other things. We want to nourish that and allow it to be there. We can take some of the life out of it if we're too actively indulging in it, thinking, "Ah, this is great, this is the best." Just feel it and be with it. The paradox is that to have some degree of concentration and focus, and have these good feelings well up, they actually get stronger if you don't indulge in them. Indulging in them squeezes them a little bit. So if you really want to indulge, don't! [Laughter]

Question: Isn't part of the idea of meditation practice to learn to not label things as good and bad? I'm trying to reconcile this with bringing a more continual presence to, "Is what I'm experiencing good, bad, or neutral?"

Gil Fronsdal: I think that meditation practice, at least in this Buddhist tradition, does involve learning to make distinctions. "Good" and "bad" are so vague and unhelpful that it's probably not useful to do that. But it's useful to distinguish between what is healthy and unhealthy, and what is helpful and not helpful. There are distinctions that are useful. If you know that it's not helpful to be lost in fantasy, then you know it's not helpful and you should let go of it. If you know it's helpful to focus on the simple pleasantness or unpleasantness of the experience, and that keeps you present and keeps you free and not entangled with things, then we can pursue that.

There are distinctions being made that are different than good and bad. I don't think I used the terms "good" and "bad" today. It was "pleasant" and "unpleasant." Pleasant and unpleasant are a little bit more inherent in the experience. I'm sitting here right now and I put my right foot on top of my left ankle, and it's actually a little bit unpleasant. I would actually say it hurts. And then I'm leaning on my left arm and stretching, and that feeling of stretching is actually pleasant. I'm not making a value judgment on either one; I'm not saying one is good and one is bad. The ankle thing is just unpleasant. The stretching of my arm is pleasant. I'm not making that up, whereas good and bad, we're making up.

Question (Testimonial): One of the things you suggested we could offer was testimonials. I have a testimonial to working with unpleasant feeling tone. Shortly after I sat a very long retreat, I was hospitalized for a period of time and ended up needing to get a lot of blood drawn and being poked as a pincushion. I very quickly came to get really curious about the experience of having blood drawn and being poked. It's now a very pleasant experience to watch what those sensations are like and to watch them change. It's both awareness of feeling tone and of impermanence, of changing experience. It's not static; it's different every time. That investigation, that curiosity, and watching it shift has brought so much joy. I would have never thought that it would. I enjoy it so much now.

Gil Fronsdal: Fantastic. I like this a lot. When we experience something as being painful or bad, it's very reductionistic. Sometimes, with careful mindfulness, we see all the different aspects and details of it, and some of those details start becoming pleasant and interesting. In addition, what happened to you was the investigation became pleasant. With this power of attention—of looking more deeply and being curious about things—we start becoming free of the event's pleasantness or unpleasantness, and we tap into this beautiful quality: "Wow, this is interesting. It's unpleasant, let's take a look." Great.

I hope you have a few experiences that are pleasant and unpleasant this week so you can have something to study. If you're lucky enough, there'll be a few! Thank you all.