Transcription
What I wanted to talk about today is the fifth jhāna. Actually, the Buddha never calls it the fifth jhāna, to my knowledge. He calls them the first, second, third, fourth, and then he calls them the realm of this, the realm of that. And the fifth jhāna is the realm of infinite space. So I don't know how it is for you listening to, hearing about things that you may not have experienced yet. For some people, it's interesting. For some people, it's super exciting, and they want to jump straight there. For some people, it's just, "What's that got to do with me?" And something turns off a little bit. For some people, the inner critic kicks in: "Oh, I'm not there yet." So it's always interesting, I've found, over the years, talking about or possibly talking about things, and areas, and experiences, and openings, and insights, where it's often the case that many or some of the people I'm talking to are not there yet, and how that lands. I've noticed over the years, I can be talking about something, and one person's totally transfixed and bewitched and enchanted; another person's sort of looking out the windows. But again, this is for you, and it's for future yous, of which there are actually an infinite amount for each of you. And it's for other beings elsewhere, now and in the future.
So, the realm of infinite space -- I don't know. How does that sound? [laughs] [inaudible response from yogi] What's that? Cool, yeah. Let's hear ... [inaudible response] What's that? Big, yeah. [laughter] Let's hear what the ... not a place where you want to lose your keys. [laughter] Let's see what the Buddha has to say about that. [laughter] So, the practitioner is practising, and has reached a certain place in this very contrived exposition, contrived unfoldment. This 'stage by stage' is a teaching contrivance. So he/she/they reach a certain stage in their samādhi, and they're sitting there or standing there or walking, whatever:
And the thought occurs to him: "What if I, with the complete transcendence of perceptions of physical form [I'm going to come back to retranslate that, because I don't like that], with the disappearance of perceptions of resistance, and not heeding, not attending to perceptions of diversity, realizing, 'Space is infinite,' what if I then were to enter and remain in the sphere of the infinitude of space?" Without jumping at the sphere of the infinitude of space, he enters and remains in the sphere of infinitude of space. He sticks with that theme, develops it, pursues it, and establishes himself firmly in it.[1]
That's all the Buddha says about it. Actually, no, there's a bit more in other suttas -- suttas that, for some reason, are very rarely talked about. I'm very fond of them, but ... that's one translation. I'm not particularly keen on a lot of that. This: "The complete transcending of perceptions of physical form" is translated by someone else here as: "by passing entirely beyond bodily sensations."[2] I'm not entirely happy with that either. The Pali is rūpasaññānaṃ samatikkamā, and it means -- samatikkamā is something like 'transcending, going beyond.' Rūpasaññānaṃ is just rūpa and saññā, both of which are words you might know: saññānaṃ is genitive plural of saññā, which is 'perception,' and rūpa is rūpa, but rūpa is an interesting word, because it can mean 'body,' and it can also mean 'form,' as in a shape of something. I think the least misleading translation here would be something like: "With the complete transcending of perceptions of materiality." I think that would pinpoint it more easily.
"With the disappearance of perceptions of resistance": so the floor is resistant to me, and that's why I can stand on it. The wall is resistant to me, and that's why I feel it. When I look at the wall, I sense a sense of, "It will hurt if I run at it with my head first." There's a sense of, it blocks something. Physical objects block something.
"And not heeding to perceptions of diversity or manifoldness" means not paying attention to the many things that make up the world of materiality: there's the clock, there's the lamp, there's the glass, there are the flowers, there's the shirt, there's the table, there's the person, there's the body, there's the cushion -- not heeding all these separate things, transcending the perception of materiality, and the quietening, the disappearance (or the 'setting down' is really the Pali), the putting down of the perception of resistance (another way of saying 'solidity'). And then again, "without jumping at it, without snatching at it, enters and remains" -- but then again, there's: "stick with it, develop it, pursue it, establish it."
That's pretty much all the Buddha says about that. The descriptions get shorter and shorter, and terser and terser. We'll come back to another sutta where there's a bit more said about it, but only in terms of how to get there. And then often you get, in these translations, not: "with the transcending of perceptions of materiality, [etc.] ... thinking, 'Space is infinite'" -- it's a strange Pali [construction]. It's a common but slightly unusual Pali construction. I'd prefer something like "seeing" or "sensing" or "perceiving that space is infinite." And 'perceiving' has both a passive aspect, or recognizing that space is infinite, but also 'perceiving,' as we've highlighted so much on this retreat, has this kind of active aspect. I actually tune the perception, I play with perception so that the infinitude of space opens up. So for me, the word 'perceiving' is a little better, because it captures both that passive recognition and the active playing. I play with my perceptions so that infinitude, the sense of infinitude opens up.
So the first four jhānas are called rūpa-jhānas, and the last four jhānas are called arūpa-jhānas. 'A-' is a negative, so usually it's translated as the rūpa-jhānas, and then the arūpa-jhānas are translated usually as the 'formless jhānas.' Again, I'm beginning to wonder whether a better translation would be the 'immaterial jhānas.' And even, as I said, the Buddha doesn't actually use the word jhānas; he uses the word āyatana, which is a word in Pali that means something like 'sphere' or 'realm' or 'base.' So I prefer 'realm.' It's a world. It's a realm. It's a realm of existence, āyatana. So these jhānas, five to eight, are really opening up to other realms. We had a glimpse, a taste of that, the beginnings of that in the third and fourth jhānas, perhaps, but now we're really clearly in other realms.
And this business of realms is quite important, because it actually relates -- so this whole range of jhānic experiences maps neatly and coherently onto a whole cosmology. In Buddhist cosmology, there are three worlds. They talk about three worlds (tiloka in Pali: ti, three; loka, world). Tiloka: three worlds, or three realms, or three (we could say) planes of existence, or three levels of the cosmos.
(1) There is what we might call the 'form realm,' the realm of rūpa. It's sometimes also, in the Buddhist cosmology, called the 'desire world,' the world of desire, kāma-loka. But I want to, actually, again, point to -- it's the world of materiality. It's the world of the four elements: solidity, liquidity, air (which really means movement), and heat and cold. So earth, air, fire, water. It's the world of materiality. So this is the world that we all agree on. We might slightly disagree or slightly be more or less informed about what the current thinking in physics is about the nature of the world, but it's the world we all experience, the world of materiality that everyone agrees on. This is one -- it's the lowest level. Well, actually, it's not the lowest, because there are other realms.
(2) But it's one level, it's a plane of existence, above which is a world that correlates with the first four jhānas, the rūpa-jhānas. And this is the world of subtle form. In each level of the cosmos -- see, all this kind of gets ignored, oftentimes, in modern, secular Buddhadharma, of course, because it's just kind of, you know, 'superstitious, religious mumbo-jumbo' belonging to ancient Eastern thought. But actually, when you start to really go in and out of these jhānic perceptions and move between these different realms, you start to, begin to, "Well, maybe there's something to this." So again, what looks like completely irrelevant, abstract, and pretty arbitrary metaphysics, actually you see its direct correlation with meditative experience. But this -- the world of the four jhānas, or the plane of the four jhānas -- is the world of subtle form, the rūpa-jhānas. Again, I would better say 'subtle materiality.'
And if we think about what's happening to the sense, the perception of the materiality of the body: here I sit, normal consciousness, solid, solid bones, solid flesh, etc. That's my body, organs, all the rest of it. Even in the first jhāna, the body becomes, in this cosmos -- it's much more subtle. It's more refined, the perception of the materiality of the body. It's subtle materiality. And yesterday, we were talking about the energy body as something that kind of spans physical and mental. Again, that we would put into the category of subtle materiality. This kind of cosmology and this kind of thinking also in relation to the energy body don't just exist in Buddhism. They also exist in, for instance, Islamic mysticism, probably some strands of Jewish Kabbalah. Bit more complicated in Christian mysticism, but maybe there. Energy body or subtle body belongs to that realm, that middle realm of subtle materiality.
(3) And then you get the immaterial realm. It's in Christianity, and also in Islam, and maybe in Judaism, but there are also different levels of angels, and also in Buddhism, different levels of devas and gods inhabit each realm. So usually translated as 'formless,' but 'immaterial' may be better.
How do we get there? How does this open up? Well, probably, in most cases, it's going to first open up in a convincing and persuasive and deeply impactful way from the fourth jhāna, probably at first. And then the fourth jhāna, really, a sense of it being really deep, and really well-established. And then one of the things you can do, once that fourth jhāna is really established, then you can start almost feeling into the space of the energy body again, with a view, with feeling for the sense of the body space. And what you sense there is a lack of solidity, a complete lack of solidity, as if it's just empty space. And actually, that goes with a subtle well-being. So you could either tune into the -- here I am in the fourth jhāna. It's not pīti, it's not sukha; it's something much more subtle, but there is a well-being there, despite this 'neither pleasure nor pain' language. There is a well-being, but that kind of well-being is the well-being of non-solidity, of non-materiality. It's almost like you feel as if you could just put your hand right through this space here. That feeling right there, in this location in the energy body space, in the energy body region -- the kinaesthetic sense of that lack of solidity, and the well-being that goes with the absence of solidity and materiality -- is very refined.
Again, if we think about the five jhānas, or five jhānas plus normal consciousness: normal consciousness -- it's just solid. It's not very refined at all. First jhāna -- more refined. Second jhāna -- more refined. We've said this before. Third, fourth -- fourth is very refined. By the time you get to the fifth, it's refined out all of any sense of solidity. There's not even a sense of a kind of energetic substance, or the stillness, or whatever; it's kind of gone. It's just an extension of the same thing, the energy body sense of refinement. So to really sense that, to really feel into it, inhabit it, and stay with that -- stay with that very sense of the well-being that comes from the absence of solidity, and really focus on that. This is one approach. And one might notice: "Actually, there are no edges. This very absence of solidity has no edges. It's edgeless." Or one might notice that any edges that maybe habitually creep in -- the assumption or even an imagination of edges that might creep in subtly into the mind -- they just keep dissolving. The mind just sees through them. They just become space.
In the Visuddhimagga, which is this commentary that I mentioned a couple of times from Sri Lanka, there's a technique where you use little discs. They're called kasiṇas, and you focus on them. They can be different colours. And that's one of the sort of meditative techniques that's explained a lot and emphasized a lot in the Visuddhimagga, and then from that little technique, then you deliberately try imagining a bigger and bigger disc, until it's infinite.[3]
But this way of doing it that I've talked about -- I don't think you need to stretch anything. Just this absence that you're feeling, the kinaesthetic sense of absence -- you don't need to stretch anything. You don't need to push anything outwards or make an effort, kind of stretching space to infinity. Just hanging out there, after a while you realize it just goes on forever. There's no end to this. And as I said, if there are edges, they just keep dissolving. You just keep kind of seeing through them.
So for many people, they have an internal visual imagination, and there's literally the seeing of space. And that can be really helpful -- really, really helpful. There's a seeing of this kind of infinitude of space. But we really also want to get a kind of kinaesthetic sense involved as well. So it can feel as if one were just falling through space. I think it came up partly in a Q & A, really early in the retreat. It can feel like: "They've just taken the floor away, and it's as if there's just nothing underneath me at all -- nothing above, and ..." So the visual and the kinaesthetic sense can very much work together, and that will really help empower the whole thing and consolidate it.
And there is a delight in this. There is something, actually, to enjoy. So technically, you're supposed to be beyond pleasure and pain and all that, but actually, there's (I think) a great delight in this very absence of resistance that the Buddha's talking about: the very sense of just infinite [space], of just falling through space, or potentially being able to fall through space, nothing there, nothing at all in the way, nothing at all that one could bang into, or that would obstruct in any way. So that enjoying is actually quite an important element. We'll come back to that. But really, what one is doing is really staying focused on the space, on the total absence of solidity or resistance, and not really attending to anything else that comes up in the mind, or anything else that one might perceive. That's the "non-attending to perceptions of diversity." And you keep doing that, and the thing starts to get bigger, but also really, really consolidated.
Sometimes, people want to worry about, "Well, how big is it? I've got a sense of space. It's definitely not solid, but how big is it? Is it infinite yet?" I don't think we need to worry about that. It's the same thing: I don't need to worry about pushing it. It's more just, one senses that there aren't edges. So the Pali word in the suttas is ananta, which literally means 'without end' or 'without a boundary,' 'without edge.' It's that absence of boundaries, and any sense of wherever they could be -- they just disappear, and the mind falls through them. They just disappear, and then the sense just opens out, opens out. Keeping with the sense of space allows the expansion.
[20:52] Sometimes (as we mentioned already), there's a kind of level of the fourth jhāna, which we could say is a slightly deeper level, like the third jhāna, where it opens up wider. In the third and fourth jhānas, we want to keep the attention more in the energy body space. But there's a sense of a wider realm. It could go from there. One starts giving one's attention to the wider realm, rather than just keeping the energy with the energy body. But essentially, it's the same thing, and you'll have to see what works better for you.
So as usual, dam bursts at first, perhaps, and it just goes there, effortless, etc. But it might be, in time, and with enough experience, in and out, in and out, then one time, one's practising this, and body sensations start to come back, or even physical pain starts to come back. Either one then needs to go back to a lower jhāna (probably the fourth jhāna), or if you have more experience, you could go to a higher jhāna, actually. So let's say you already know the sixth or the seventh, and here I am, trying to get into the fifth in this session, but something in the body keeps returning. Could go back to the fourth, or could go to the sixth or seventh, if I know them, and then come back. And those visitations will really help everything to become less solid again, and then one can stay more in the fifth jhāna.
Or another option might be that one could -- here I am, pain is starting to re-emerge in the body, or just body sensations, and one can almost focus in between the regions of pain. Just look at the gaps, the space in between, and eventually those will open up, and the space will re-establish itself. But really, I think the best foundation is probably a really strong sense of stillness from the fourth jhāna, really refined and pristine, pure sense of stillness from the fourth jhāna. And then, as I said, if one attempts the fifth jhāna then, and it's not steady, one can always return to the fourth jhāna. You can make it kind of a home base, in many different ways. [23:14] Like I said, a lot of what I say will have exceptions, but generally speaking, the fourth jhāna wants to be really quite mature before the fifth can be really established.
Sometimes, there are suttas (I couldn't find them, but there are suttas) where the Buddha talks about (if I remember) -- it's almost like, "Okay, there are four jhānas, and then there are immaterial realms, and what they really are are perspectives on the fourth jhāna." They're ways of looking at what's happening in the fourth jhāna -- particularly ways of looking at what's happening to the sense of the body, so that the immaterial realms are different ways of sensing or different ways of looking at the body sense in the fourth jhāna. So in a way, infinite space, as a realm, is already there in the fourth jhāna. If I look at the fourth jhāna, and if I look at the sense of the body in a certain way, and I just see it as space, it's already there. There's already so little solidity that I just look at it, and sense the body as space.
Or (and this one matches more the Buddha's descriptions) if I sense the body space, what did the Buddha say about the fourth jhāna? The analogy was purified, bright awareness, a purified mindfulness. That's what was pervading -- it wasn't pīti; it wasn't sukha; it was a purified, bright awareness that was pervading the body.[4] So that one's already hinting at the beginnings of the sixth jhāna. I look at the body, and I see it as awareness. What I'm paying attention to is the very awareness there, and that will take me to the sixth jhāna, etc., or nothing, or whatever.
I've never done a statistical analysis, but I think for most people, this jhāna is perceived as pitch black. So you could have a very luminous, white, bright white fourth jhāna, but for most people, I think the fifth jhāna will be black. But it doesn't really matter. That's a very secondary thing. I think one of the lovely things about this realm is that you can actually practise it with the eyes open, and this is something I would really, really recommend in addition to the usual eyes-shut ways of working. Sitting, standing, looking at the sky, for instance, looking at space, getting a sense of the space, feeling that space, the space of the sky, the space there in nature, feeling it with the body, feeling it kinaesthetically as well, and again, realizing it's boundless. It's ananta. It doesn't have boundaries.
So when I was learning this, we had a heatwave, and I think it was really, I mean, really hot, from something like March until October or something, and I was on retreat the whole time. And I would just stand in the fields, in the less busy lanes, and just be staring at the sky, much to the amusement, probably, of the neighbours. [laughs] But it's one way of practising, and it's very, very potent -- just as potent. Eyes open, looking, and getting a real feel for the space. The body and the mind become kind of one with boundless space. We're trying to, again, dissolve the body and dissolve the mind in this boundless space. And it's a very exhilarating -- exhilaration is perhaps a really accurate word. There's really a sense of, "Wow!" It's almost dramatic in that dissolution, in that infinitude, in that disappearance of body and solidity. We're, again, moving in that direction. It's the same thing with SASSIE. It's the A. 'Absorb' is a direction. Dissolving body and mind, absorbing into it -- "Being space," I used to say to myself, "Being space. I've become space." But it's a direction. However absorbed we are, we can always be more absorbed.
So with this kind of opening, there is, or there should be, a very strong sense of cosmic oneness, mystical cosmic oneness that emerges with this, with the opening to this realm -- both in the jhāna, certainly, because one has become space (there's nothing but space; the whole cosmos is just space) and also in the after-effects on perception. As I mentioned yesterday, to me, the after-effects on perception become really important at this level, the formless jhānas, or really powerful. They're potentially very potent. So there's a strong sense of cosmic oneness, and again, that does something to the heart, to the soul, to the sense of existence, to all of that. [28:57] I'll return to that later, come back to the oneness bit later.
In this state, there's also what the Buddha calls a sense of 'release.' I meant to look up the Pali; I can't remember. So the Buddha talks about 'release.'[5] Now, all jhānas are releases. They're releases from the hindrances. Certainly the first four jhānas are releases from sense desires and the irritations or aversions to sensual impacts. But here we have a different kind of release: we're released from perceptions of materiality and solidity. And that really is felt as a release. That release, that sense of release is what I would call a secondary nimitta. The primary nimitta here is space and its endlessness, space, just nothing solid there, just nothing, nothing, nothing solid there. That's the primary nimitta. A secondary nimitta, which again, like we've talked about before, with the love or other secondary nimittas, you can lean into and emphasize and explore more at times, but probably overall, if you want the whole journey to deepen, it needs to remain secondary. But it's still really important to sense the release here, and that's what I would call the secondary nimitta. Tremendous release, to be released.
This is one of those things. Stop a person on the street, and ask them if they feel imprisoned by materiality and solidity. [laughter] And it's like, "Pffft, you need to get out more," or whatever they would say, but ... [laughter] Yeah. There are imprisonments that we don't realize are imprisonments until we've gone beyond them. That's why I prefer to keep the word dukkha in the Pali, because it's talking about subtle things that we have no sense of them as dukkha at all. We wouldn't list them on our list of what's dukkha. But the release from perceptions of materiality and solidity, really -- there's a freedom there. So that's also a secondary nimitta. They're completely connected: release, freedom, secondary nimitta. Very exhilarating. There's joy as well, perhaps, as a secondary nimitta at times, and, I would say, wonder and awe. But these are all secondary.
The sense of infinity itself is going to affect -- or again, it can, if we let it, if we don't get in the way, if we're not entrenched in certain views which erect walls of conception and view that are not demolishable. If we actually let it, then the sense of infinity and this sense of release from materiality, and this whole perception, and the cosmic oneness -- they really affect the being deeply, affect the sense of existence, the whole relationship with death, the self and the self's dying. This taste of infinity -- it's more than a taste, this immersion in, this dissolution in infinity.
[32:32] And like I said, all the jhānas really have their impact, or part of their impact, a strand of their impact, is in lessening attachment. So here as well. Another secondary nimitta will be love -- mettā, let's say mettā, more accurately, mettā. Why? All this oneness and non-heeding to perceptions of diversity. Mettā is unconditional love. The more oneness, the more naturally there is mettā. And when I'm not heeding diversity, and not attending to perceptions of diversity, then everything, everyone is equally deserving of mettā, and the mettā flows to all equally. It's when I prefer this bit of diversity to that bit of diversity -- that's when the mettā becomes conditional and not so pure. So mettā is there as a secondary nimitta -- again, something we can certainly lean into at times. Or in the after-effects on perception -- you might have a lot of different after-effects, so that might be a very strong one, just walking around after this kind of experience, and there's tremendous mettā, and one may really lean into that. "Okay, I'm not so much concentrating on the space then, or the infinitude. It's just the mettā now, the profound ocean of it."
Just a small point here that may not be needed any more, but I remember, years ago, it was commonly taught that mettā and karuṇā and muditā -- loving-kindness, compassion, and appreciative joy -- were good objects for jhāna practice, but they only went as far as the third jhāna. That's as far as you could take them. Has anyone heard that? Yeah, it's from the Visuddhimagga.[6] The Buddha never said that. In the Pali Canon, the Buddha says mettā can take you to the fourth jhāna and fifth jhānas, etc., and he goes more. So I don' t know -- again, it's a strange historical thing that has happened with the Visuddhimagga that a lot of stuff in there gets unquestioned for some reason, even though the Buddha's saying something quite different. But a little bit relating to what Derek asked yesterday, he says, mettā delivers or karuṇā delivers to, let's say, the fifth jhāna. Or rather, let's say karuṇā delivers to the fifth jhāna. And he says: "For one who has not penetrated to further release."[7] In other words, if you know the sixth or seventh, your karuṇā, your compassion practice could take you to the sixth.
There are a couple of interesting things here to point out.
(1) First is just a small point in terms of karuṇā, that if karuṇā is taking you to the second or the third jhāna (karuṇā means 'compassion'), that means that it needs to be -- that means compassion is a happy state. So sometimes people have an idea that compassion is not a happy state. But actually, it's very clear: what the Buddha meant by compassion is a happy state. It's a state where there's a lot of happiness in it. That's a small point.
(2) The other thing (and I throw this out for you to explore, or whoever to explore, when you want) is that, at some point with all this, if you really get into it, you can start experimenting with different kind of cocktails, what I call 'cocktails.' It means exactly this: for instance, mixing infinite consciousness, the sixth jhāna, the realm of infinite consciousness, with, let's say, compassion. You're starting to colour space or put two things together that are ordinarily not thought of together. And you've got, like, mixing cocktails. So what you read or what you might hear, in terms of the categories, and this does this, and this does this -- you start to feel like, you start to get the sense that actually, a lot more is possible than you may have read about. And all kinds of creativity and playfulness are possible. So you can make your own cocktails and give them funny names.
So the after-effects on perception -- I think, again, this is so, so important, I think, and so much what touches the heart and makes the difference in one's life, brings the liberation, brings the wonder, and brings the change and the opening out of the sense of existence. It's this, almost as much as what happens in the meditation. [37:44] So from this, there are two we could pinpoint, from the realm of infinite space, two after-effects:
(1) One is that all is space. So you may -- where's my apple gone? [laughs] She gives the teacher an apple, and she takes it! [laughter] Anyway, all right, we'll have to ... [inaudible response from yogi] Yeah! All right, this -- not as good as an apple, but this is the ... [laughs] You've probably all heard this before. This is the nucleus of an atom. Where are the electrons? [inaudible responses] Yeah, how far? [inaudible responses] Plymouth? Any advance on Plymouth? [laughter] Johannesburg. Yeah, so ... [laughter] Something like that. Anyway, the point is, we feel ourselves to live in a world that's very, very solid. What's the world made up of? It's made up of atoms. An atom has a nucleus and is orbited by electrons, in the classical view that's been completely trashed by quantum physics. But anyway, the distance between the nucleus and the electrons is something like -- actually, if it's that size (because it's usually an orange; that's why I wanted the apple). So with that size, it would actually be somewhere like the moon, or somewhere like that. So basically, the idea is like, most of what we're looking at and feeling and sensing as solid is actually space. So that's one after-effect.
(2) The more significant one, and I think the one the Buddha puts more influence on -- that's still important, that space thing; it's an important perception. But the second one is that -- and this has to do with oneness -- it's that all sense objects are really one materiality. They're one stuff, one substance. We are star-stuff. Everything in this room, everyone in this room, all the atoms that make up everyone and everything in this room probably all came from the same supernova. A supernova is when a star explodes, and the physical and chemical processes that happen when a star explodes. It generates more complex atoms, which can then make carbon and make other elements that form the world of materiality. All of us and everything on earth probably came -- all the atoms came from the same supernova that exploded somewhere or other a long time ago. So in a way, we are all one materiality. And then before that, it all came from the Big Bang, allegedly.
We can hear that kind of stuff, but with this kind of perception, the perception of oneness, oneness of materiality, oneness of physical substance, becomes, impresses itself on the heart. Like, it's not just "Ooh, isn't that interesting?" It really impresses itself on the heart. It's a level of oneness that really starts to touch one's being. It's a mystical oneness, really. Even though we're talking about matter, we have that sense of the mystical -- not just connection, but oneness with all materiality, the whole earth, each other, bodies, trees, everything.
Now, there are (I don't know how many) suttas that mention the realm of infinite space. Most of them just say just that little bit, what I read to you at the beginning that the Buddha said, which is really two or three lines. There's another one, a sutta. I was a big fan of this sutta for a while when I was exploring the relationship of insight and jhāna practice. And it's a sutta in the Majjhima Nikāya, and it's called something like Ways to the Imperturbable or Conducive to the Imperturbable: Āneñjasappāya Sutta.[8] So again, we're going back to what we were talking about yesterday: insight ways of looking that open up a particular jhāna. Here, it's not so much that the insight way of looking that one employs or engages or practises is "Space is infinite." It's rather that, what the Buddha teaches, that "All sensuality and all sense perceptions," he says -- he gives three options, but it's really the third one that we're interested in. He says:
(1) "They're all dukkha. All sensuality and all sense perceptions are dukkha."
(2) Then, second one he gives: "All sensuality, all sense perceptions are impermanent."
So these are -- again, they're not just like, "Oh yeah, that's right. I shouldn't be attached," like an idea, and then we say, "Yeah, yeah, it's bad to be attached." They're views. They're insight ways of looking. I have to translate that agilely, subtly, into my way of looking in the moment, and keep looking over and over, keep sensing over and over. This is what we mean by an 'insight way of looking.' Not: the Buddha says, "All sense objects are impermanent"; it's like, "Yeah, okay, that tells me I should live, and try and not be attached." It's going to have about zero power in our life. But if we engage it as a way of looking -- I mean a subtle, meditative engagement -- this is what I mean by 'insight way of looking.' It's something very light in the consciousness. As we're looking, we're looking in a particular way. We're sensing, we're relating in a particular way, seeing, sensing in a particular way: "Impermanent -- all these things are dukkha, all of it, whatever I see." I walk around, I sit, I look at the materiality, I sense the materiality: 'impermanent, dukkha.' Then it starts to do something. And it's not that it starts to do something twenty years later -- "Maybe I'll be a little less attached!" I mean, it may well have that effect, too, but it does something now. And this, again, is what I mean by insight ways of looking. They have their power now. They bring release now. They change the perception now, if I just do it over and over and over. I'm training, I'm playing with perception over and over.
(3) But the most significant one here of the three that the Buddha gives is not the dukkha, not the impermanence, but the "It's all materiality. It's all just the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water." So again, what does that mean? It means, perhaps I do my walking meditation, or I stand outside, or I sit with my eyes open, with my eyes closed, and any sense of any sense object, I'm looking: "It's just materiality. It's just materiality." This has to mean something to me. If it doesn't mean something, then it won't work. So it has to both mean something, but also, in the looking, be incredibly light and incredibly agile. I can't have a big philosophical essay that I'm kind of pondering through and repeating. But pregnant in my just, "impermanent, impermanent," or "It's just materiality. It's just materiality" -- that one's quite an easy one, I think, but it has to encapsulate something that means something for me about its [materiality]. Then it has its power. Then it starts to have its power, and I need to sustain it. Moment after moment, I sustain it. It's a way of looking, an insight way of looking. And that insight way of looking can take me to the fifth jhāna, to the realm of infinite space. Why?
[inaudible response from Nicole] Yeah, so Nicole's saying, you're not attending to diversity. Yeah, that's one reason. And especially with the 'impermanent' and 'dukkha,' there's also a sense that "I'm not interested in this." It's just all materiality, all sense objects, sense perceptions are kind of not -- I'm just not interested. There's a letting go of any clinging with regard to materiality and material objects. So both for the reason Nicole said, not attending to diversity, but also this kind of -- we'll come back to this. Basically, the Buddha says: "This is worthless. This is dukkha. This is Māra's snare. This is a cancer. This is a dart, an arrow." All that's kind of in there. It doesn't need to be so -- the Buddha's a little extreme sometimes in his language. It's more just kind of like, "Hm. Hm. Meh. Meh. Meh." But very subtle, and then we're doing something very, very powerful, and this other realm can begin to open up from the insight way of looking. I haven't gone through jhānas one, two, three, four; I've gone through the insight way of looking.
In that, and in all this (both in the sense of oneness that comes, in the after-effect on perception also), if you follow that insight way of looking that I just described and the Buddha offered there, in time (certainly in the moment, but also more long-term in my life), more disidentification with the body becomes available. And again, I would say it becomes available rather than just a constant thing, because sometimes it's important to identify with the body. Of course it's important. But that view, that relationship with the body of non-identification becomes much more available through the insight way of looking, or through the after-effect on perception from the jhānic realm. They're just elements of the cosmos, just the material elements of the cosmos. And when we're eating, we're just moving elements from there to here, and then out again -- or breathing, or whatever. And again, there's a release, there's a beauty in that. If I only ever think of body and physicality like that, to me that's an impoverishment. I miss all kinds of wonderful, beautiful, important things about existence. Do you understand? I think that's really important. So that's one way it can happen.
But the other way is not with the eyes shut, nor with the eyes open, looking at the sky or looking at space, but actually looking at objects, and particularly if you have a lot of experience going in and out of the realm of infinite space. But also maybe from other meditative experiences which many of you have actually already had, where you look at an object -- and usually, as I said, I look the wall, or I look at Nathan, or whatever it is. And in the looking, there's a sense of their solidity. I just somehow sense it, as a part of the normal consciousness. Again, I know there's going to be resistance, and there's going to be obstruction there.
[49:50] But sometimes, especially if you done a lot of fifth jhāna or other kinds of meditation, there's this other perception available where you look at something, and you can kind of see right through it, so to speak. It just doesn't appear solid. So you can also train your perception, play with a way of looking, where you're seeing and sensing things as space, not as solid. I just look at the table, and just get a sense of it not as solid. One's ability to do that rests on probably how familiar you are with that kind of perception from before. And as I said, it could come from your previous experience of the realm of infinite space, but it could also come from other kinds of meditative opening, because that decrease of solidity is, again, a kind of unfabricating. And any meditative practice, certainly any kind of classical meditative practice, is a practice of unfabricating to some degree. Dāna, sīla, ethics, concentration, samādhi, jhāna, insight practice -- they're all unfabricating to some degree, so that this kind of perception, if you're practising many different -- any different kinds of meditation, it's very common to have that experience.
So it might be that, resting on one's previous experiences of a sense of the non-solidity of things when one looks at them, you can actually engage that more deliberately rather than just waiting for it to come as a result -- engage it more deliberately, and then the realm of infinite space begins to open up with your eyes open. I don't need a big space, don't need the eyes shut. It's more just a way of seeing, a way of sensing what's there that we usually perceive in a certain way. I'm just perceiving it in a different way.
As we said at the start, most of you guys are pretty interested in this, but why am I doing Dharma practice? Why am I meditating? People have a lot of different reasons why they're meditating. They're looking for a lot of different things. It's such a huge variety in terms of what brings people to practise meditation these days. It's enormous. And even within Buddhadharma, and even people who come on retreats, and maybe, I would say, even really hardcore practitioners still have a lot of range of what they're wanting.
So if what I want is: in my life I want simplicity and equanimity -- equanimity in the sense of, with regard to the eight worldly conditions (praise/blame, pain/pleasure, success/failure, gain/loss). That's kind of why I'm practising. I have a vision that the Dharma and meditation can make my life more simple, and that attracts me, and I want this kind of evenness of equanimity. If that's kind of the goal of practice, or those are the goals of practice, I'm not sure whether there's that much point or need to open up to these kinds of realms, really. Maybe attention to impermanence, realizing the impermanence of things would help, but I don't know that this is really necessary.
Turning that around, if my vision of awakening, my idea of what an awakened person knows is that they know the impermanence of all things, I'm also not so sure that one needs to open up to the realm of infinite space, or the other formless, the other immaterial realms. You don't really need that.
So I would like to, having said that, just revisit again this question of desire, which we talked about at some point earlier on the retreat. And one of the points I made (I was trying to convey its significance, because it wasn't obvious) is, I think I said something like: what I desire, exactly what I desire, exactly what I'm looking for is more significant than whether I reach a certain jhāna. How I relate to my desire, and what exactly my desire is, is more significant than whether I reach jhāna. As a teaching, that very nugget there -- how much what unfolds depends on both exactly what I'm desiring and how I'm relating to my desire -- that, as a teaching, I would say, is more significant than any tip or technique, or telling you how to move from this jhāna to the other. And I think I asked how many people believe me, and some of you put your hands up, and some of you didn't. [55:42]
And then we talked -- I talked a bit about desire. And I don't know. I think the piece I wanted to emphasize was not so much how much desire we have, because sometimes, I know, sometimes I can talk, and it might sound to some people like, "Oh, there's so much desire. I don't have enough desire. Rob has all this hot-blooded, Mediterranean, Arabic passion and whatever, and I'm not like that." So it wasn't really about how much. It was about how we relate to our desire, and what exactly we are desiring. And an enormous amount hinges on that. An enormous amount of what will unfold for us as practitioners hinges on that. And knowing that and understanding that may be more important than how to get from one jhāna to another, and it may be more important than attaining whatever jhāna. [56:39]
Again, what are we really desiring? Again, there's such a huge range in the Dharma. Many people these days, with meditation in mainstream culture, come to the Dharma for some ease, understandably enough -- for some reduction of suffering. They're oppressed and badgered by their inner critic, and they want a certain amount of freedom with relation to the inner critic, the self-judge, or whatever you call it. They want some ease in their life, and I want some reduction of suffering. What might happen is a person might get that. They might get some ease over time, through practice -- some ease, some reduction of suffering, some abating of the inner critic. Maybe it comes from a certain amount of Dharma practice. Maybe it comes -- that ease, that reduction of suffering, and that reduction of the inner critic -- as much from a change in the outer circumstances: a shift at work, now I'm in a relationship, or now I'm out of a certain relationship, or life conditions change, and I actually feel better. So I've got what I wanted originally. I've got that degree of ease, or that reduction of suffering that I wanted. And then maybe, at that point, I don't really want anything more. Why am I even practising any more? I've kind of got what I wanted. How much are jhānas and these immaterial realms -- it's like, how much would such a person even want or need to come on a retreat like this, or give much time to all this? Exactly what we want determines what unfolds, determines how we relate to practice and Dharma and all that. Someone was telling me a while ago, they were talking about going on another jhāna retreat. Or for them, it would have been the first jhāna retreat, and explaining why they wanted to go. And they said they thought that the jhānas would enable them to be more present. And they had been practising meditation for probably twenty-five or thirty years. And that was how they viewed the whole of practice. It was really about being more present. Can I be more present to life? And they practised diligently, very, very committed. But that was their view. It's about being present. Wrapped up in that "It's about being present," actually, is a whole cosmology. In other words, being present gives a kind of sanctity to something. To what? To the present moment, to this world as I perceive it. It's got a whole hidden metaphysics (and I've talked about this elsewhere; I'm not going to go into it now) and cosmology on which this idea and this kind of raising up of this aspiration over and over, to be present, to be present to life, to be present to the way things are, to be present to the moment.
All these charged words: 'life,' 'the moment,' 'things as they are' -- they all pick at, or rather, scratch away at the charge, and they all hide certain world-views. They're all pregnant with certain world-views. Again, such a person, I don't think would need to come -- first of all, the jhānas are not going to make you that much more present. You can -- I don't know. You don't need the jhānas to practise presence. So maybe that person would have gone on a jhāna retreat and actually found only a marginal increase, if at all, in their ability to be present, but would've also realized that you don't need that. I think, more, would at some point decide that it wasn't really their cup of tea. They weren't really interested in that. And it would be hard for them to sustain an interest in jhāna practice. We talk about other realms or mastery, or this mystical state or that mystical state, but the whole elevation of the idea of 'presence' -- those things have nothing to do with that. Presence has nothing to do with other realms or opening to other realms. So such a person, had they gone on that jhāna retreat, probably would have decided -- well, wouldn't have been able to sustain the intention. If it was a long retreat like this one, they wouldn't have been able to sustain the intention. They wouldn't have kept working and playing, because it actually wasn't what they wanted. They wanted something else, and wrapped up in all that other thing of wanting more presence, was resting on a whole cosmology which was kind of entrenched, and there was no real interest in shifting the cosmology. [1:02:29]
Or sometimes it's obvious in other ways, a person doesn't want to -- it's a kind of negative desire: my desire is not to budge a certain cosmology. So I also run into people talking about jhāna practice and jhāna retreats they've been on, where there's -- I think I mentioned this before -- the person's come after a jhāna retreat and said, "Oh, it was really fun. I had a great time." But there was a kind of walled entrenchment in a certain cosmological view, in a certain view of the world, of human being, of the cosmos, of what awakening is, of being itself. And the absolute priority was that that view did not get challenged, that it remained what it was. There was so much invested in that view -- that "The world is like it is, and existentially we have to face up to that: a purposeless world of cold, [purposelessly] dancing atoms in which a human being inexplicably finds themself, finite life, death. And the whole point of Dharma practice is to realize that, face up to it, and be relatively okay with that existential truth. And that's the point of Dharma practice. So you can do a little bit of jhānas, but not too much! You can have a little bit of fun." And even the language, "Oh, I had a great time." It's almost like -- "I had a great time" -- it was like a little hobby at the side, something that was kind of cute to play with for a little bit. "I don't want to do too much, because then, if I have enough of these kind of experiences, then it might start challenging my view of the cosmos, my view of what a human being is, my view of existence, of what the world is, of what reality is." So there's a kind of negative desire, if you like, operating -- a desire for something not to be pushed on and challenged. That person will limit the exploration of jhānas and ways of looking that we talked about yesterday, so that they're not allowed to repeatedly open up drastic and radical changes in the sense of things and existence. Limited exploration limits the challenge. So you can zip through jhānas from one to eight, but it doesn't really make any difference to the whole sense of existence. It's just a fun game that one's playing, maybe pleasant in the mind.
Or, again, it might be, someone wants a kind of equanimity in daily life, and that's what they want (we've already said this). Then, again, it will be limited. The interest in this kind of thing will actually be limited. A little bit of impermanence, maybe a little bit of the vastness of awareness, because you get quite an equanimity there, maybe a little anattā at a certain level, but also those practices will be related to as a decrease of papañca (we've talked about this), as a decrease of reactivity, as a decrease of fussing. And that's the point of Dharma practice: decrease of papañca and fuss.
So I just want to speak a little bit more about desire. Yesterday we spoke about emptiness, and talking about awakening, and we're speaking about jhānas. I still think, more fundamental and more fundamentally important than emptiness, than jhānas, and than awakening, is the question of desire and how we're relating to it. I'd say it's more fundamental than all of that. So when I talked about it the other time, what I perhaps should have said (if it was a little out of balance) is: people are different with desire. In other words, people are unique, a little bit, with their desire. It's not everyone burns with a certain kind of passionate desire. Some people do, and some people don't. Some people, their desire burns differently. So whatever I said, whenever it was, I didn't mean to sound, and I'm sorry if it did sound, as if I was kind of implying you should all burn this way, or like this, or with this kind of intensity.
I think the more important question is, what is authentic for you? What's authentic for you -- like, your desire and how that burns? And I was giving some stories from my past, and how the pain of desire and of staying with something, and the sort of torment and all that, and the rub of it and all that. But some people, much more naturally -- it doesn't burn that way. It doesn't burn with a great, huge, passionate flame of intensity that's problematic, their eros, their desire. Either they just don't have so much -- it's just, what's authentic to them is not so much desire. And this has to be respected. That's one of the points I'm trying to make. Or it burns in a kind of much easier, less intense way than something like I might somehow communicate when I share about myself, less pressured way. So this, I think, is really important. Some people, it does burn with a lot of pressure, with a lot of intensity. Sometimes the pressure and intensity is not authentic. It's something added on by the inner critic, or by peer pressure or something like that. Sometimes a person's desire is not so flaming, burning, and passionate like that, and sometimes that's authentic. But sometimes, not being so burning intensely is not authentic. In other words, there's actually something going on that a person is dampening their desire, without even realizing it -- inhibiting it, blocking it, avoiding it, fearing it, dissipating it, forgetting it. So the question here, one of the important questions is about authenticity for each soul in relationship to desire. I think partly after the other talk on desire, I felt like I didn't make that clear enough, so that's partly why I'm saying this now.
I think I've said that a talk is a talk, so when I give a talk in public, and there are many people, and it's being recorded, I speak in certain ways, but it should be, I hope you feel that if you come to an interview with me, I need to match you where you are, and not impose anything about, "You need to be desiring this," or "You need to have more desire," or whatever it is. My desire for a one-to-one interview is to meet you where you are with that, and to really respect, genuinely respect if your desire burns differently than mine, or than the next person. And it would be kind of a bit obnoxious if I didn't, I think. But talking with a group is a different thing. And talking when there are recordings, we don't know who's going to listen to this in however many years. It's a different thing. Anyway, I didn't make that clear enough. So I need to respect how your desire burns, and how much desire there is, if that's authentic. And even if we're working one-on-one, I may also respect -- even if your desire is different than mine, and why should it be the same? I need also to respect your process, and where you are in your process of uncovering your (let's call it) natural and authentic flame and desire, or where you are in liberating it and knowing its power. And that takes time. And that's at a certain place, that process, at any time. If I'm working one-to-one with someone, that's also part of what I need to do. So even if I sense, "Actually, this person has a lot more desire. They're, for whatever reason, not really in touch with it, or not really allowing it," I still need to respect the process there, and not push that impatiently or out of time. There are a lot of different elements to consider here, I think, certainly when we talk one-on-one, and then again when we're talking in a larger context.
So, authenticity in two respects: (1) there's authenticity about what I desire, which Monica asked this question. What's the difference? Again, through introspection, can I slowly learn to feel the difference between a desire that's coming, let's say, more from what we might call 'ego,' and a desire from what we might more call 'soul'? And partly, all the soulmaking teachings point to the difference. All those elements of the imaginal, etc., and all this talk about eros points to: can I discern the difference when a desire of mine is actually not authentic? And I might have been pursuing something for ages before maybe someone points out, or maybe I realize, "Actually, this isn't what I really, really want. This is not what I really, really care about."
Yes, as I said the other day when we were talking about, we get inundated with advertising and all that. But what about things like -- how many people have been engaging emptiness practices diligently, diligently, and yet, emptiness and that realization is actually not what they really, really want? How did that happen? I think, again, what unfolds in terms of your emptiness realization depends and is determined to a large part by what exactly I'm desiring. And if I'm not really, genuinely, authentically passionate about it, it won't deliver. I'll do all the practices. I kind of do the things -- but it's not your thing. So what I desire, and the difference, discerning, learning to discern the difference between what's really a (what should we say?) authentic, deep, soul-desire, and what's a more ego-desire? And what's just indoctrination and programming from cultures -- the wider culture or the sub-culture, including Dharma cultures? You're in a situation where the teacher and everyone else is going on about emptiness, emptiness, and doing these practices, and people are excited, and one naturally thinks, "Oh, that's what I've got to do." And it could be jhānas as well. But I would say, for these things to really deliver, there needs to be this authentic passion. And the same thing -- even [if] a person wants to be a writer, or a singer, songwriter, whatever it is -- it's like, why? Where's the desire coming from? Is there something that needs that? Or is there something that needs you to do that? These are hard questions.
So, authentic about what I desire, and authentic also, as I said earlier, about how my desire burns. And those are really different soul-styles. And that, I think, really need to be respected. Some people, it's a whole, big, intense thing, whatever. And some people much less so. Some people, it's a quieter flame, but it's very, very steady, and it's not so dramatic. What's authentic to you, to your soul? And then there's another question, there's another aspect -- it's like, how to be true to one's deep desires? What does that mean? What does that look like? What does it mean, really, for me to honour my desires? For this, I need to know myself. If I say, "I want this. I'm going to do this. I will do this. I pledge myself to this. This is the thing that I really care about," da-da-da. And then, you see the person, a little time goes by, and they're not following through on it. And there are all kinds of what often to them look like good reasons: "Oh, my mother hurt her leg, or my this or that, or someone asked me to do this." There are a million reasons.
But oftentimes it's actually to do with self-knowledge. I don't know -- for some reason, this person is not seeing this pattern of getting very passionate about something, and not following through. It's not steady. This is difficult stuff. This is why I say this is actually more fundamental than emptiness or jhāna or awakening, whatever, because all that's going to depend on: how wise am I about my desire? And what's my relationship to desire? And how well do I know myself around that?
It's interesting. I think one of the gifts of modernity is that, in a way, we're free. There's no dominant narrative, dominant kind of view any more, in modernity, of what the most important thing is in life, and therefore what's most desirable. So we're not obliged to believe that this or that is the best kind of desire, and that if we were somehow wiser or better or clearer or less deluded, that would be what we would really desire. Modernity has done away with all that. And "If I were just less deluded, I would simply desire awakening, or I would simply desire this, and ..." -- modern Western culture has just done away with that. It's no longer legitimate to say to anyone else: "This or that is what makes a life really worth living, and that's what you should really desire."
What that does, the gift of that, is it makes us free, free to choose. Or to a certain extent, it makes us free, or more free than if that were uniformly agreed in the culture. Like in certain cultures it was always agreed: "It's best to become a monk. If you've really got the desire and the spirit, and you're really clear, you'd become a monk." And everyone knew that, and someone who wasn't becoming a monk knew that they were making a kind of second-level choice. But that whole view and narrative and framework has gone. There's nothing that we can point to any more, nothing that it's legitimate to point to in modern Western culture. There's an absence, the gift of which is a certain kind of freedom, freedom to choose -- to a certain degree, because we have to deal with all kinds of other stuff that gets in the way of freedom, or looks like freedom but actually isn't.
But this very gift is, at the same time, I think, a huge problem, a huge problem for modern culture. The loss of any kind of objective criteria or agreed-upon, universally agreed-upon criteria to determine: what is it that makes a life really worth living? What is the good life? What is a beautiful life? What is a life most worth living? And of course, relative to that is: what then should I desire? All this is connected. The absence of that is the cause of huge and widespread and profound problems in modern culture, modern society, postmodern society. And these are ethical issues. And I think, at the root of our ethical -- climate change, species extinction, racial injustice, so much of what's going on in the world, they're actually ethical issues at root. And part of the very ethical problem is this absence.
I've talked about that quite a lot recently on recordings, and I hope to be able to talk about it some more. I just think it's so pressing and so important. You see how all these things are connected. We talk about emptiness, blah blah blah, but until the desire is there, and until that's connected to: "Well, what actually makes a life worth living? And how are we going to relate to all this? And what is my relationship with all that?" This is huge, and I just want to touch on this, and pinpoint just -- you know, again, it's like, what's actually significant? And sometimes we don't realize what's significant, because we're certain that something else is significant. You actually have to go to another level. "Oh, there's something else here, a whole other level that I hadn't even considered that's actually really, really significant."
Okay, just following on a couple of small things about desire, just primarily for soulmakers. I'll be brief, because this is not a soulmaking retreat. If you love Soulmaking Dharma, and if you love soulmaking practices, then you should realize, if not by now, you should realize at some point that your very sense of Soulmaking Dharma will expand. It will expand into new territories that it hadn't included before. It will expand new possibilities. New realms of existence and being and of your being will get included. Right? Have you ...? Should have. Okay, well, if you haven't already, you should. More and more gets included and worked into the soulmaking dynamic. And so, what Soulmaking Dharma pertains to, and is, the sense of it starts to expand. And I think, at some point, most practitioners, most Soulmaking Dharma practitioners will realize two things:
(1) One is that jhāna practice is a kind of art, and as such, is also part of and contributes to the art of soulmaking practice. Some of you already kind of get that connection; others of you much less. Less, or it's not there yet. Jhāna practice, the art of jhāna practice, becomes or is seen to become very relevant to Soulmaking Dharma practice and skill, and skill in relationship, and all of that. Sorry -- it's relevant in terms of the sensitivity and the attunement that we talked about, the magic. Some of you already get a sense of the magic of jhāna practice, and this magic of playing with perception. And it's the same. If you're practising Soulmaking Dharma, you're practising a kind of magic too. You start to see: "Oh, these things are really, really connected. They're really relevant, and relevant to what possibilities open up." So that's one thing that should get clear.
(2a) A second thing that should get clear is that being able to really sustain, or the demand in jhāna practice to really sustain, to stay with, over and over, and for hours and hours, to marinate in, to return to the primary nimitta, to let that really mature that way, and the practice mature that way -- that kind of sustaining needs eros. The very way we're relating to the primary nimitta is, in Soulmaking Dharma language, erotic, in the small definition of 'erotic.' And to sustain, to be able to sustain that eros (in the small definition) is relevant to the art and skill, and also relevant to being in relationship with anything that we love.
So again, this question: how does your eros burn? What's your style? Is it, "Ooh," I get excited about this, and then a quick flame, and then I get a quick flame of excitement about that, and then a quick flame of excitement, "Ooh," this wonder opens up, and then something else? Or is it this very steady, "Just stay with one thing, stay with one thing," or what? What's the style of eros? But a lot depends on that, in terms of our relationship with jhāna practice, and our ability to really sustain. In the small sense, it's an erotic relationship. And again, that comes back to: what's authentic? What's the authentic way my eros burns? And a kind of contradictory question or complementary question -- because of the nature of the soulmaking dynamic, there's always this double question. It's like, because of the nature of soul and soulmaking, there's always this question: what's authentic to my soul? And there's the possibility of my soul's growing and extending and learning new ways, and new ways it can burn that I hadn't even recognized were available to me, part of me. The kinds, the styles of my fire burning, of my eros. So you get a kind of complicated question there.
(2b) Second small thing for soulmakers is -- I've said much earlier on the retreat, and this is connected to all this business about desire that I said -- also one of the most significant things, one of the most crucial elements of a fruitful practice is the view that we have of the self on the path. And if that's problematic, then no matter what we experience in meditation, no matter what we open to, it won't deliver its full fruit. It can be stymied. It can be blocked. The view of the self on the path -- so this is important for everyone. It's not something we usually talk about. We usually expect, "No, if I just do the right practices, that will all get taken care of." Maybe, but maybe not. Again, this is just for the people who are interested in soulmaking -- we talked about, I said, a view of the self on the path can also be related to the fantasy of the path, and the fantasy of the self on the path. And sometimes, a person recognizes, "Oh, I really need something like this to help me sustain, whether it's jhāna practice or emptiness, or just Dharma practice, or soulmaking practice, whatever it is. I need something in the view of the self."
And if you know Soulmaking Dharma practices, I need a fantasy here to actually sustain and give, keep delivering, keep encouraging me, supporting me. So there's the possibility of a kind of formulaic answer: "I'm, you know, the bodhisattva, and take the bodhisattva vows," and having that kind of quasi-imaginal relationship with, quasi-imaginal sense of the self on the path. "I'm a bodhisattva. I'm doing this for all beings," or "I'm a warrior," or whatever it is. And all that's okay, taking a kind of formula, if you like. But it will be much more powerful and much more soulful if it's personal, unique to you, to your particulars -- authentic, again. The word 'authentic' comes from auto, and auto means 'self.' So it pertains to you -- in other words, if the fantasy is a particular one, not just a generic Buddhist formula or something else like that. [1:28:05]
If you are the author -- that word 'author' is phonetically related to 'authentic,' but not etymologically related. Its etymological root is from augere in Latin, which means 'to increase.' An author is someone that grows something. But phonetically, they're related: 'authentic' and 'author.' If you want to be a real author, I need to be authentic, and that means getting in touch with what this self needs, what's personal and particular.
So how do I access that? Yes, possibly through generic, universal Buddhist formulas or whatever, or it's accessed in one of two ways, which is out of the corner of my eye, so to speak. It's what I mean by 'fantasy': it's something we kind of see out of the corner of our eye. When I'm really in love with something, when I'm inspired, there's somewhere -- I'm not really noticing at first -- somewhere is hiding a fantasy of what I'm doing, and of the self in its journey of doing what I'm loving. When I love, when I'm in love, when I'm inspired, there's a fantasy hiding there. So how do I discover what my personal fantasy is?
(1) I kind of glimpse it out the corner of my eye. It's not really an image. It's a kind of background narrative image. But I can glimpse that at those times, and then I can use it. And then I can drop on it. And then I can develop it in practice, and it becomes really fertile, potentially, as a support for my desire, for my sustaining on the path, whatever path I've chosen. So it can come out of those times of love. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch it.
(2) Or it can come right in and through my dukkha. When I'm really struggling on the path, when I'm really struggling with a sense of the self on the path, when it's got so heavy, so frustrating, when the longing is burning painfully, when there's grief, perhaps, when there's despair, right there, in and through my dukkha, the very crucible of that dukkha, there's enough in there -- I have to go into it with a lot of skill and a lot of the right kind of holding, but if I do, in the alchemy of it, of this crucible of dukkha, it can emerge, a fantasy of self on the path that's liberating, and supportive, and sustaining, and powerful, and generative, and nourishing, and beautiful, and endlessly fertile, as soulmaking images are. So it's exactly when I feel, really, the pain of the problem of having a goal, and my relationship with it. If I come with all the soulmaking skill that I have, and art, that's exactly when the most fertile thing can come.
Okay, last thing. That was a bit of a -- not a digression. Again, I feel [it's] very important, this whole desire business, but I've talked about it so much elsewhere. It's just a bit more. Back to the realm of infinite space: same deal with mastery, same things. We're aiming for the same things. In time, when it's ready, can go there not from any jhāna, as I've described. Can go there either by subtle intention, just from a normal consciousness, through an insight way of looking, through this just looking at things and just 'seeing through them,' so to speak, sensing their non-solidity. Can go from not the fourth jhāna but the second or the third, etc. Want to play with all this and develop all that. And then, one of the things that I think gets really delightful at this point is walking in the realm of infinite space. So I mean, going for a walk on the lanes, and very interesting and very lovely experience, I would say. And then, again, with every new jhāna, we've added more permutations for our leapfrog ping-pong. It's because you can jump around all kinds of different places, to this one and that one.
I think that's all I wanted to say today, so let's have a bit of quiet together.
[silence]
Okay, thank you, everybody. Time for tea. Are there any interviews tonight? There are a few interviews tonight, and then we'll put the updated form later on tonight. Okay, so time for tea. Enjoy.
AN 9:35. Cf. Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu, tr., "The Cow, Gāvī Sutta (AN 9:35)," https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/AN/AN9_35.html, accessed 25 Feb. 2020. ↩︎
DN 9. Cf. Maurice Walshe, tr., Long Discourses of the Buddha: A Translation of the Dīgha Nikāya (Somerville: Wisdom, 1995), 162. ↩︎
Bhadantācariya Buddhaghosa, The Path of Purification: Visuddhimagga, tr. Bhikkhu Ñāṇamoli (Onalaska, WA: Pariyatti, 1999), 320--1. ↩︎
AN 5:28. ↩︎
Possibly vimutti in Pali. ↩︎
According to the Visuddhimagga, the first three brahmavihāras can only go as far as the third jhāna because they are "not dissociated from joy." See Buddhaghosa, The Path of Purification, 315. ↩︎
SN 46:54. ↩︎
MN 106. ↩︎
