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Guided Meditation: The Power of Knowing

So hello everyone, my warm greetings and my best wishes for all of you for your meditation. I hope that you find your meditation to be settling for you, beneficial for you, and that it's inspiring for you to be meditating in community, with many other people meditating at the same time today.

There are many ways to benefit from meditation, from mindfulness meditation. One of the ways does not require anything to be any different. It doesn't require us to somehow become more settled or calm. It doesn't require us to dispel certain states of mind or ways of being which are unpleasant or difficult to have.

But one way is to begin appreciating the simple act of knowing, that it can be so simple, innocent, and such a common part of everyday life. To know there's a door when we see a door and a door handle and opening the door, and we know all these myriad things all the time. But we seldom find the full fruition or full value of a clear moment of knowing, where knowing something, anything at all, is a miracle. It's an amazing thing that the mind can do, that somehow out of the cosmic soup there evolved living beings that could have concepts, ideas, and perceptions. Perceptions can be had, and moments of cognition can be experienced where we know, "Oh, that is a door. That's an itch. That's an inhale. That's an exhale."

As I describe this, it might not seem such a wonderful thing. But as knowing begins to become simplified or purified, the knowing stands out by itself as its own clarity. The knowing is independent of what is known. For example, if someone has something that I want—maybe they have ice cream—and I'm caught up in wanting, I know what the object is, but the wanting is all over the place. My mind is swirling with thoughts about how I can manage to get it. Our knowing is often interspersed with or connected with our desires, our aversions, our confusions, our commentary, our history, and our memory.

But when knowing becomes simple, really, really simple, there's no baggage with it. It begins to feel special. There's a kind of peace in it, a kind of ease in it, and a kind of freedom to be found in the knowing. This is one of the inner dimensions of this mindfulness practice. Once we can appreciate this, the practice opens up in a very different way. Rather than needing to change anything or change ourselves, it's about appreciating more and more the knowing of what's happening. The little saying is that insight practice is less about having new experiences and more about seeing in a new way.

So, I'll do a little exercise about this kind of knowing to help you appreciate how simple and clear it can be, and then of course the meditation will apply that to the mind.

Assuming a meditation posture and gently closing the eyes. Taking a few moments to settle in quietly in whatever way you like. Taking in some deep breaths, relaxing in whatever way you want to do it.

And then a little exercise in knowing. Find a sensation in your body that is pretty neutral. It could be the sensation of your hand if that's neutral, or maybe there's some contact of your foot against your mat or the floor. Something that's relatively neutral, maybe the temperature of your body. Something that's not particularly pleasant or unpleasant, something that you won't have too much of a reaction to.

Then, let yourself become aware of this sensation. Notice if there's any attitude of being either for or against it, or questioning and wondering what this exercise is about. Notice if you are resisting it, a little bit irritated to do an exercise, or eager to explore it and figure out what's going on. See if you can let go of all that, maybe in an exhale.

Relax all the ideas and attitudes about it. Instead, see if you can simply know the sensation. Recognize it in the simplest, most direct way. You don't have to know exactly what it is; just an approximation is fine. Let there be a clear recognition. See if you can find a way to clearly recognize it. It could be with verbal thoughts in your mind, or it could be a brightening of the inner eye—a clear recognition of the sensation where the recognition is its own event.

The word "door" is not the door; it represents the door. So, for the sensation that you're having, the recognition is not the sensation. But it's an amazing event in the mind that the mind would know and recognize. See if you can recognize, see, or understand that the act of recognition is distinct from the sensation. Of course, they're related, but the sensation does not need to have the recognition to exist.

Stay with the sensation, maybe breathe with it if it's there, or find another one. See if the knowing, the seeing of it, can be very, very simple. There may be a kind of brightness or clarity to it—this is what's happening. A clarity that doesn't have to have a before and after, or ideas of what's going to happen or why it's happening, just the event itself in this moment.

Now, calmly become aware of how your mind is. What is your mind state, your mood? What is your inner life like? In a radical simplicity, recognize in some way what's happening now for your mind, how it is. Recognize it with the kind of independence and clarity with which you recognized the sensation. Attempt to step back, to be free enough that the knowing is not entangled with the mind state; it just knows.

On a spectrum from a contracted to an expansive mind, how is your mind? More contracted, more expansive, right in the middle, or not clear, none of the above? Recognizing how it is. Maybe recognizing the miracle of knowing anything.

When you know your mind state this way—with a clear knowing that is relaxed, open, and allowing—what happens to the mind state? Does anything shift? If it does, then know the shift.

We'll continue in silence. But as you go along, maybe centering yourself on the breathing, from time to time, know the state of your mind. See if you can know it with this simple, clear way of knowing, where the knowing itself is not for or against. You are not trying to do anything or understand anything complicated. The knowing is just a recognition, the miracle of recognition.

[Silence]

Knowing the mind as it is. Taking refuge in the simplicity of knowing. Knowing is a kind of protection. It protects us from fixing and predicting, wanting and not wanting.

[Silence]

As we come to the end of the sitting, it can be a gift to others to know them and see them clearly without any baggage on our part, without any judgments, without any preferences. See and know them for who they are, as if they're allowed to be that way. Just see. Sometimes it allows others to see themselves better. Sometimes it frees people. Very few people have been seen without the seeing wanting something from them.

Turning the attention outwards to the world with the gift of seeing. Maybe thinking about some of the people in your life, just let them be there. See them. I'd like to believe that the clarity of our seeing and knowing is the best channel for our goodwill, for our love, our care, and generosity.

May our knowing of others be the conduit for our love, our well-wishing. May all beings be happy. May all beings be peaceful. May all beings be safe, and may all beings everywhere be free.

Dharmette: Satipaṭṭhāna (40) Benefiting the Mind through Knowing

The third foundation of mindfulness^[1] has eight exercises or eight practices, and they're divided into two halves, two groups of four. Each of them is about the verb, the activity—just to know the simplicity of knowing these mind states or these ways the mind can be.

The first half has a little bit more to do with a mind that is somehow caught in the world of suffering. It explores the unwholesome mind and the wholesome mind. The second half—the last four practices—has more to do with the mind in meditation, the mind when it starts becoming free, matures in the Dharma^[2], and grows and develops. That will be the topic for the next two days.

But for now, it begins with the first four: to know a mind that has desire or greed as a mind with greed; to know a mind without greed or without desire as such; to know a mind of ill will or aversion as such, and to know a mind without aversion as a mind without aversion; to know a mind that is with delusion or confusion as such, and to know a mind without confusion or delusion as a mind without confusion or delusion. Those are the first three.

For the fourth one, most translators understand it to mean knowing a contracted mind as a contracted mind and a scattered mind as a scattered mind. To know a shrunken mind, a shriveled mind, as a shriveled mind, and a scattered mind as a scattered mind. Sometimes this is associated with the third and fourth of the hindrances^[3]: to know a mind that's sinking into sloth and torpor, into dullness, as such, and to know a mind which is scattered and restless from anxiety. It makes sense because that's what those states entail. Another possibility is that it refers to knowing a collected mind versus a scattered mind.

Whatever the precise translation, the art of it is to simply know, "This is how the mind is." A mind that's afraid can be either way. It can be so afraid that it shrinks into itself, or it can be so scattered and restless that it's running around and we're not really present for ourselves. These can be very difficult mind states to have. But what's happening here is that, rather than just being caught in a mind with greed, aversion, or delusion, we are now talking about a mind that is globally shrunk and contracted, or globally scattered, dispersed, distracted, and jumpy. Sometimes minds are that way. Fear in particular can have this kind of effect on the mind, but all the other hindrances can have this effect as well.

I find it fascinating to look at my mind, and when I get caught up in some mental preoccupation or thought train, to notice what has happened to my state of mind. For me, it's like things have gotten obscure, dark, or contracted. My world has gotten narrow and small, and I'm pulled into my little concern. Sometimes, if I am restless, uncertain, or anxious about something, I can feel that the mind is spinning, jumping around, and can't sit still. It's like water on a sizzling hot frying pan; it just jumps around, and it's hard to arrange or settle the mind because of how jumpy it is.

The fascinating thing about this third foundation of mindfulness^[4] is that it's not giving us advice about what to do when we have minds like this that can be quite uncomfortable. All it says is that the meditator knows a contracted mind as a contracted mind, and knows a scattered mind as a scattered mind. Because the instruction is so radically simple—just to know—it's hard to trust it. It's hard to have confidence that this is worthwhile doing. We think, "Aren't we supposed to fix it, get away from it, make it better, and have a different kind of mind? We're not really meditating if the mind is scattered, so we have to get advice about how to breathe deeply or use an antidote so we fix it."

There's no fixing it in this exercise. It's simply recognizing it as it is, knowing, "This is how the mind is at this point." It helps if the mind is somewhat settled already or has had experiences in practice before this, so we begin to appreciate the power of knowing, the simplicity of just noticing, "Oh, this is how it is. This is a contracted mind. This is a scattered mind."

Human beings have had contracted and scattered minds for tens of thousands of years, and I'm just one more in a long line of people who have had minds like this. I've had many minds like this, and this is how it is now. This is my turn. Maybe everyone has to have a turn with a scattered and distracted mind, and this is my turn. Okay, so now my job is just to know it, to see it. Then we fall back on the simplicity of knowing, the simplicity of recognition: "This is how it is. This is how it is."

Over time, as we get deeper into the practice, we begin appreciating more and more how powerful and significant it is to know in this way. Just know. Just know this is how it is. We find it helps to free the stickiness of the mind. We're no longer caught in it, involved in it, or wanting it to be different. More remarkably, as the mind becomes less sticky, that itself is settling. That itself is calming. That kind of knowing changes the ecology of the inner landscape and begins moving us towards freedom.

This movement towards freedom brings us to the other half of the third foundation of mindfulness. There is a set of four exercises that describes the states of mind that begin opening up in meditation—states that can open up and grow out of this radically simple act of knowing, helping us on the path to liberation. It's phenomenal to watch it happen: to be present, to just know the mind state, and then to see how the mind changes in the wake of that clear and simple knowing.

The primary thing I wanted to emphasize today is how powerful and significant the simplest act of knowing can be. I would like to encourage you, for the next 24 hours, to go about your day and experiment with knowing things as they occur in the simplicity of the moment. Try not to be impatient for the next moment, not needing things to be different, not trying to run away, and not having a big agenda. See how simple, complete, free, clarifying, and brightening it can be to simply know, "Oh, this is how it is."

This means allowing the knowing to sink in, allowing it to be registered. You make room for the knowing, giving yourself time to know. "This is my time." It's as simple as coming to a door and recognizing, "That's a door." Driving and noticing, "The light is red." Standing in line in the supermarket and knowing, "I'm standing in a line."

Experiment in all kinds of places and see what effect this has on you. Notice the impact of practicing this radical simplicity that makes time for recognition.

Tomorrow we'll cover the more liberating states of mind found in this third foundation. Thank you very much.