Wrong Mindfulness
This is the 4th day of a chronicle of a 14-day meditation retreat at the Pa Auk Tawya in Pyin Oo Lwin, Myanmar. Published days are available via the links below:
Day Five — The Power Sublime Abiding
No need to read in order. Depending on what interests you, there will be days that you definitely don’t want to explore. Today is all about paying attention to the wrong things.
Note: In editing my chronicle, I have added supplemental information about Pali terms and Buddhist concepts to attempt to make the experience easier to read. Please check the links and do further research always. There is a lot to understand and I still consider myself among the Dhamma uninitiated.
3:00 AM — Yesterday’s diarrhea won’t relent. A bout of diarrhea is dukkha, but it pales in comparison to the extreme discomfort of wrong mindfulness.
Dukkha
Dukkha is a Pali word. It actually means not knowing, understanding or penetrating the truth of the five aggregates (or khandhas in Pali). but here I am using it to mean good old fashioned “suffering”.
I am having a particularly, unpleasant experience at the moment because I couldn’t be correctly mindful of the subtle breath in yesterday’s sitting. Mindfulness is the first enlightenment factor. To practice meditation correctly means to train with right mindfulness (or “sama sati” in Pali).
Messing up is so loathsome, but I seem to have become quite skilled at it and when I mess up my impulse is to panic, but I couldn’t. I kinda knew it was going to happen because of an unforgettable meditation retreat in Geochang, South Korea earlier in the year.
Right now, at this very moment, massive dollops of something I can’t see, smell or touch are oozing out of my nostrils and I have no idea how I am even able to be aware of that.
Material Energy
I had my first encounter with qi in Geochang. Qi (or 气 or 氣) is a Chinese word. There are various explanations of its nature. However, it is supposedly “material energy”.
The industrial engineer in me scoffs at the idea of material energy. The concept is so dumb. There is material and there is energy, but there’s no such thing as material energy. Even though qi is supposed to be used in traditional Chinese medicine, I thought it was all fairy tale stuff.
Until this year, qi (or chi) was a fantastic concept that was concocted up to make epic Jet Li / Michelle Yeoh [1] films like Yuen Woo Ping’s Tai Chi Master (see the trailer below) great.
Chinese Soft Power
America dominates soft power, but films made by legendary Chinese actors and directors (Jet Li, Michelle Yeoh, Yuen Woo Ping, et. al.) impacted my existence so much that they made me want to study Chinese language and culture. Eventually, that impact helped me embrace life in Asia. Anyway… I digress.
At this moment, however, I was not enjoying the impact qi was having on my head. Throughout the day, it was inflating in my skull like a balloon and swimming around in there.
Why did it even arise? It is well known that curiosity killed the cat but I really want to know. My teachers should be able to explain this phenomenon to me scientifically, right? I’m in Dhamma Central.
Ultimate Reality and Dhamma Central
I dare not ask about qi. In fact, I won’t even mention it. Although the esteemed teachers at this venerable institution are supposed to have a fundamental grasp on ultimate reality, I plainly don’t have the courage to question any of the teachers here about the science behind what I am experiencing. Like a Roman Catholic asking a Mormon about the Holy Trinity, I might just garner weird looks if I start asking about Taoist concepts. Better to practice discretion.
When I first heard about meditation, among other things, I understood it as some sort of technique to help us relax. It was supposed to help people (like me) that have insurmountable heaps of doubt and are prone to panic. It does help. However, the purpose of meditation at this fine institution is to know and see the “truth”. That truth is called ultimate reality (or the dhamma in Pali).
Qi might be totally and scientifically explained by the dhamma, but I am going to try to figure that out on my own at a later date. I don’t want to get distracted right now. I need to relax and fully embrace this discipline anyway.
Samatha Meditation
What was I actually practicing yesterday? I thought I was engaging in samatha practice of ānāpāna mindfulness. Samatha meditation is the cultivation of tranquility. Clearly, I wasn’t traquil. If I was, I certainly wasn’t training with the right mindfulness required for jhana (or absorption).
Jhana
Jhana is the Pali word for the peaceful mind brought about by one-pointed (or deeply concentrated) mind on a meditation object. When we meditate, we need an object to concentrate on. The breath is the Buddha’s most recommended meditation object and why my teachers recommended I start my samatha practice there. Anyway…
If I were on track for jhana in yesterday’s sitting, I’d have experienced sukha and diarrhea. Instead, my experience was bitter. Worse yet, I continue to struggle with dukkha and diarrhea (the combination of which is almost unbearable).
Sukha is the Pali word for bliss and Samatha meditation is the cultivation of tranquility. Sukha (bliss, happiness, joy, yadda yadda yadda) is a by-product of samatha meditation (or tranquility meditation). Bitterness is not.
Cheaters Never Prosper
What went wrong? I have a theory: I was cheating. I could not be mindful of the subtle breath, so I forced it.
To be precise, I was striving to know the touch of the breath. In striving, I made my breath unnatural [3] and more pronounced. So I regressed. I was not mindful of natural in-breaths and out-breaths. That stupidity caused qi issues to return.
What is qi anyway? The Chinese character is quite clear: it is air. Perhaps, my malady is by-product of focusing on the air in my breath. Most likely I was practicing mindfulness of the air element in the breath (or the physical characteristics of the push of the breath) and not concentrating on in and out breaths as concepts.
Furthermore, I suspect that the Pa Auk Sayadaw was correct. I was following the breath into the back of my head. Thanks to a cocktail of too much desire and not enough skill, I was concentrating on the breath and not mindful of breathing.
Clearly, I had no idea I was making such an elementary blunder at the time. I have a theory for that as well… desire is blinding. I was blind. I was ignorant of my own folly because you can’t be mindful when you have desire.
3:30 PM — What an exhausting twelve hours! I was concerned about my condition the whole time, but somehow I was able to subdue fear, remain calm, not panic, and intellectually reason through experience based on the concepts I’ve been taught by the teachers here.
Along the way, I had to relinquish the desire to focus on the touching point as instructed by the Pa Auk Sayadaw. I didn’t want to, but it was a burning coal.
I’d been admonished (so many times) in meditation manuals and in verbal instructions to be mindful of the breath at the touching point and to not follow the breath back into the head, etc. The instructions are super simple. I should be able to follow them.
I feel like an imbecile for messing up (many times). Cognitively, I understand my teacher’s instruction, but I can’t execute them. What frustration! The theory is so easy, but the practice is truly hard.
Questions for the Pa Auk Sayadaw
- I think I was following the breath into my nostrils because the breath is too subtle at the tip of the nostril. How do I know the breath is touching at the tip of the nostril?
- Once I really pay attention to the touch, after a while I notice the elements. Should I ignore the touch and just keep my mind at the point where I was most recently aware of the breath touching the tip of the nostril?
- Can I do exercises in my kuti to help get my mind calm? My last retreat was terrifying because I encountered the same issues putting effort into knowing the touch. [4]
Interpretation of the Response
The Sayadaw’s response was that exercise is good for a yogi and that I should just focus every breath where it touches at the tip of the nostrils. Ignore the elements if you sense them becoming more prominent. If you are unable to sense the touch of the breath, just keep your mind on the touching point. Don’t panic. Know that only dead people don’t breathe.
4:00 PM — No doubt I was overcome with glee when the Pa Auk Sayadaw explained that I can exercise in my kuti. That’s the first order of business after my second interview of the day.
Questions for U Kumarābhivamsa Sayadaw
- Why do the characteristics of the four elements become so pronounced during meditation? Why do effort and intention/desire have so much power?
- What is the danger of feeling the elements? Is it possible to suffocate because your mind gets tricked by the water element? Or go crazy if overwhelmed by the air element?
- Can you radiate metta at any point during your meditation and what should one do if radiating metta is unable to calm the mind?
Interpretation of the Response
Sayadaw basically explained that desire and craving are opposite to the practice we are undertaking. There are five hindrances (or defilements) that have to be overcome and that we need the five controlling faculties (or five masteries or pañca indriyā in Pali) to overcome them. [5]
As for the elements… that’s the mind paying attention to the characteristics of the breath.
Of course, I should know both of these things but I forgot. I will make studying the dhamma part of my daily practice when I return to the secular world.
Side Note
You shouldn’t interview every day. Even days are for males. Odd days for females. I made that mistake as well today.
There are no mistakes, only lessons! Saddhu 3X!
[1] Yes… Spare time in my youth was littered with Jet Li films. At this stage of my life, I am a huge fan of Jet Li and his views on martial arts as a student of the Dhamma and Capoeira teacher.
[2] Technically the traditional Chinese character for qi (氣) signifies the steam rising from cooked rice.
[3] The teachers here continually stress the importance of concentrating on the natural breath.
[4] I didn’t explain this to my teacher, but I really wanted to practice Capoeira in my kuti. In so doing, I could expel the qi building in my head. Fortunately, years before Capoeira I practiced Chinese martial arts that taught breathing exercises that were qi oriented. The exercise was called dragon breathing. I never forgot them, and now that I have qi in a superbly unbeneficial location, I know how to get rid of it.
[5] The Pañca Indriyā (Five Masteries or Five Controlling Factors) are faith, effort, mindfulness, concentration, and understanding/wisdom (or saddhā, vīriya, sati, samādhi, pañña in Pali). Stock up on them. Read Knowing and Seeing by the Pa Auk Sayadaw to learn how to balance these “five powers”.
Professor Zumbi is a certified Capoeira teacher. He received his teaching qualification in the presence of great Capoeira masters like Mestre Suassuna and Mestre Acordeon. Zumbi organizes Capoeira Retreats that conclude with an introduction to Ānāpānasati at a highly acclaimed meditation center.
Professor Zumbi is not a meditation teacher and this is not a meditation guide. Zumbi’s meditation articles are written to share thoughts and personal experiences. Please find a qualified teacher if you want to undertake Ānāpānasati. Follow your teacher and forget everything you’ve read here.
