Mindfulness: A Practical Guide to Awakening

by Joseph Goldstein

At this point, people sometimes feel that their mindfulness is weak because things are not lasting long enough for our attention to land on them. But this is simply a refinement of the perception of change. We really begin to see that, on one level, there’s nothing much there.

Noticing how we perceive change is simply another way to refine our attention.

In this development stage, the awareness of impermanence becomes even more predominant than the object itself. It is the beginning of movement from mindfulness of content to mindfulness of process. It is this stage of satipaṭṭhāna that leads to wisdom and awakening, because if any aspect of experience is still seen as permanent, opening to the unconditioned, nibbāna, is impossible.

As Anālayo notes, bare knowledge here means observing objectively without getting lost in associations and reactions. It’s the simple and direct knowing of what’s present without making up stories about experience. This “seeing clearly” is, in fact, the meaning of the Pali word vipassanā, usually translated as “insight meditation.”

We often miss the simplicity of bare knowledge because we look through it—or over it—for something special, or we look forward in expectation and miss what is right in front of us.

“I’m smuggling donkeys.”

Sometimes we obscure the experience of bare knowing because we are conflating simple awareness with some unnoticed attachment or aversion to what is happening.

This insight is the first doorway into the understanding of selflessness, and in the stages of insight, it is called Purification of View. We begin to see that everything that we call self is simply this pairwise progression of knowing and object, arising and passing moment after moment. And we also see that the knowing in each moment arises due to impersonal causes and not because there is some abiding “knower.”

We build this momentum of mindfulness very simply. We can start with some primary object of attention, such as mindfulness of the breath or the sitting posture. Using a particular object to focus and calm the mind is common to many spiritual traditions.

When the mind has settled a bit, we can then begin paying attention to any other object that becomes more predominant. It might be sensations in the body, or sounds, or different thoughts and images arising in the mind. And as the mindfulness gains strength, we sometimes let go of the primary object altogether and practice a more choiceless awareness, simply being aware of whatever arises moment to moment. At this point, as the awareness becomes more panoramic, we move from emphasis on the content of the particular experience to its more general characteristics—namely, the impermanence, unreliability, and selflessness of all that arises. All of this strengthens the continuity of mindfulness through mindfulness itself.

The second way we strengthen continuity is through the mental factor of perception. In the Abhidhamma, strong perception is one of the proximate causes for mindfulness to arise. Perception is the mental quality of recognition.

For example, we hear a sound. Consciousness simply knows the sound; perception recognizes it, names it “bird,” and then remembers this concept for the next time we hear that kind of sound. It’s not that the word bird will always come to mind when we hear the sound, but there will still be a preverbal recognition that the sound is the call of a bird.

All this raises an interesting question regarding the use of concepts in meditation practice and understanding. On the one hand, we want to establish mindfulness to the extent necessary for bare knowing, which somehow suggests a mind free from conceptual overlay. And on the other hand, the factor of perception, with its attendant concepts, is itself a proximate cause for mindfulness to arise. The resolution of these apparently contradictory perspectives lies in our deeper understanding of perception. Perception is a common factor, which means that it is arising in every moment of consciousness. When perception is operative without strong mindfulness — which is the usual way an untrained mind navigates the world — then we know and remember only the surface appearance of things. In the moment of recognition, we give a name or a concept to what arises, and then our experiences become limited, obscured, or colored by those very concepts.

But perception can also be in the service of greater mindfulness and awareness. Instead of concepts limiting our view of what’s arising, properly employed, they can frame the moment’s experience, enabling a deeper and more careful observation. It is like putting a frame around a painting in order to see it more clearly.

“The breath is like this,” “Pain is like this,” “Calm is like this.”

The very tone of the note in the mind can often illuminate unconscious attitudes. We may not be aware of impatience or frustration or delight as we experience different arising objects, but we may start to notice an agitated or enthusiastic tone of voice in the mind. Noting helps cut through our identification with experience, both when the hindrances are present and when our practice has become very subtle and refined.

Mental noting also gives us important feedback: Are we really present or not, in a continuous or sustained way?

It’s important to realize that this tool of mental noting is simply a skillful means for helping us to be mindful — it is not the essence of the practice itself, which is simply to be aware.

We should also understand its limitations. Noting is not used as an intellectual reflection and should be kept to a single, silent word.

“And one abides independent, not clinging to anything in the world.” This line encapsulates the entire path.

“Abiding independent” refers to the mind not being attached to any arising experience, either through craving or views. “Craving” or “desire” are the usual translations of the Pali word taṇha. But taṇha is also sometimes translated as “thirst,” and somehow this translation conveys the more embodied urgency of this powerful state of mind.

One of the great discoveries as we proceed along the path is that, on one level, birth and death, existence and nonexistence, self and other, are the great defining themes of our lives. And on another level, we come to understand that all experience is just a show of empty appearances. This understanding points to the other aspect of “abiding independently, not clinging to anything in the world”—that is, not being attached through views and, most fundamentally, the view of self.

We build a whole superstructure of self on top of momentary, changing conditions.

With this quality of bare knowing of whatever is seen, heard, felt, or cognized, we are not evaluating or proliferating different sense impressions. When we practice in this way, we understand the selfless nature of phenomena—with no “you” there—and we live abiding independent, not clinging to anything in the world.

He spoke of mindfulness of the body as being the simplest and most direct way for overcoming the onslaughts of Māra,

There was a sense of inner seclusion right in the midst of all that activity.

in whatever posture we take, it is helpful to keep the back straight, without being stiff or tense, as a way of staying ardent, clearly knowing, and mindful, free of desires and discontent in regard to the world.

wise effort creates energy. We often think that we need energy to make effort. But the opposite can be just as true. Think of the times when you feel tired and sluggish and then go out for some exercise. Usually, you come back feeling alert and energized: effort creates energy. On the other hand, if it feels like there’s too much striving and over-efforting, it might be helpful to relax the posture a bit, allowing the energy to arise from within. As the mindfulness and concentration grow stronger, the back and body straighten by themselves. There’s a growing energy flow from inside the body that keeps it erect effortlessly.

“He establishes mindfulness in front of him.”

Most literally, “in front” suggests using the nostril area—the nose tip or upper lip — as the place to focus our attention. The traditional image of awareness at this point of focus is that of a gatekeeper in an ancient city keeping track of everyone who enters or leaves through the city gates. The gatekeeper doesn’t follow the person into the city, nor does he exit with the person as he goes on his journey.

observe the breath wherever it is easiest, wherever you feel it most clearly.

after establishing the posture, the Buddha is emphasizing the importance of setting the conscious intention to be mindful.

he sits with his mind set on his own welfare, on the welfare of others, and on the welfare of both, even on the welfare of the whole world.”

When mindfulness of breathing is developed and cultivated, it fulfills the four foundations of mindfulness. When the four foundations of mindfulness are developed and cultivated, they fulfill the seven enlightenment factors. When the seven enlightenment factors are developed and cultivated, they fulfill true knowledge and deliverance.”

We’re not forcing or controlling the breath in any way.

The mind will have a tendency to get carried away

But each time we notice that we’re not on the breath, in this part of the practice, we simply gently let go and begin again.

in the first two exercises, the Buddha uses the verb “to know”: breathing in, one knows one is breathing in, etc. But in the next two exercises of mindfulness of the breath, the Buddha uses the verb “to train.”

This means that we train experiencing the beginning, middle, and end of each breath.

feeling the breath more intimately, experiencing the entire flow of changing sensations with each in- and out-breath.

As the breath is calmed, the body becomes more still, and as the body posture becomes still, the breath itself is calmed. These two approaches interweave and support each other.

helps strengthen the continuity of our awareness.

Māra is the embodiment of delusion,

We can undertake the contemplation of the elements in different ways, each one leading us to direct insight into the three characteristics, which in turn leads to freeing the mind from clinging.

Those who believe in things can be helped through various kinds of practice, through skillful means—but those who fall into the abyss of emptiness find it almost impossible to re-emerge, since there seem to be no handholds, no steps, no gradual progression, nothing to do.9

This understanding gives rise to the rare flower of bodhichitta, the awakened heart, which is the motivation that our practice and our lives are not for ourselves alone, but for the welfare and benefit of all. We need to start in a very humble way, simply planting the seed of this aspiration within ourselves, without pretension, without grandiose expectations. Manifesting bodhichitta is a lifetime practice.

When we’re not mindful, pleasant feelings habitually condition desire and clinging, unpleasant feelings condition dislike and aversion, and neutral feelings condition delusion — that is, not really knowing what is going on. Yet when we are mindful, these very same feelings become the vehicle of our freedom.

How does the mind respond when pleasant sexual feelings arise in the body or pleasant fantasies in the mind? Do we indulge or resist? Are we mindful and nonreactive, seeing clearly their impermanent nature? How does the mind respond to unpleasant feelings of pain or discomfort? How does the mind respond when we’re ill? The Buddha gives some direct instruction here: “You should train like this: my body may be sick yet my mind will remain unafflicted.”

Unworldly feelings refer to something quite different. These are the feelings associated with renunciation. In our Western cultures, the idea of renunciation doesn’t always inspire us. We tend to think of it as deprivation, something that might be good for us in the end, but is not that much fun now. But another way of understanding renunciation is as nonaddictiveness to sense pleasures. From this perspective, renunciation holds out the possibility of happiness now. The less addicted we are to the seduction of sense pleasures, the less commotion there is in the mind. We experience greater ease and simplicity of living.

There is an important message here about the role of joy and happiness in our path of practice. With the emphasis on the great truth of suffering and its causes, on the need for right effort, on the dangers of continually indulging sense desire, it is sometimes easy to overlook that this is a path of happiness, leading onward to happiness.