What did the Buddha really mean
by “mindfulness?” B. Alan Wallace describes how misunderstanding
the term can have implications for your
practice.
B. Alan Wallace
tricycle
Buddhist scholar and teacher B. Alan Wallace is a
prolific author and translator of Buddhist texts. With a B.A. in
both physics and the philosophy of science from Amherst College and
a Ph.D. in religious studies from Stanford University, he devotes
much of his time combining his interests in the study of Buddhist
philosophical and contemplative traditions and their relationship
to modern science.
Wallace is founder and president of the Santa
Barbara Institute for Consciousness Studies, in Santa Barbara,
California. Here he speaks in depth with Tricycle about what he
considers an essential but widely misunderstood Buddhist practice:
mindfulness meditation. Wallace argues that our poor understanding
of the practice has profound implications for our meditation
practice, and may very well draw us from the ultimate fruit of
Buddhist practice—liberation from suffering and its underlying
causes. The interview was conducted by email over the course of
several months in 2007.
For the past several months you’ve been in
dialogue with many Buddhist teachers on the topic of mindfulness.
What prompted you to focus on this topic?
For years I’ve been puzzled by the discrepancies
between the descriptions of mindfulness given by many modern
Vipassana teachers and psychologists who rely on them, on the one
hand, and the definitions of mindfulness we find in traditional
Theravada and Mahayana Buddhist literature on the other. When I
first noticed this disparity about thirty years ago, I thought
perhaps it was due to differences between Theravada and Mahayana
Buddhism. But the more I looked into this, the more it appeared to
me that traditional Theravada and Mahayana sources are largely in
accord with each other, and it was the modern accounts of
mindfulness that departed from both traditions.
In what ways do the modern accounts differ? While
mindfulness (sati) is often equated with bare attention,
my conversations with—and recent studies of works by—the learned
monks Bhikkhu Bodhi and Bhikkhu Analayo, and Rupert Gethin,
president of the Pali Text Society, led me to conclude that bare
attention corresponds much more closely to the Pali term
manasikara, which is commonly translated as “attention” or
“mental engagement.” This word refers to the initial split seconds
of the bare cognizing of an object, before one begins to recognize,
identify, and conceptualize, and in Buddhist accounts it is not
regarded as a wholesome mental factor. It is ethically neutral. The
primary meaning of sati, on the other hand, is recollection,
non-forgetfulness. This includes retrospective memory of
things in the past, prospectively remembering to do
something in the future, and present-centered recollection in the
sense of maintaining unwavering attention to a present reality. The
opposite of mindfulness is forgetfulness, so mindfulness applied to
the breath, for instance, involves continuous, unwavering attention
to the respiration. Mindfulness may be used to sustain
bare attention (manasikara), but nowhere do traditional
Buddhist sources equate mindfulness with such attention.
Does the Buddha ever mention the term manasikara
in his mindfulness instructions? Not that I know of. The
term figures most prominently in Abhidhamma-based treatises on
Buddhist psychology. In the Buddha’s practical instructions on both
samatha (tranquility meditation) and vipassana
(insight meditation), the terms sati and
sampajanna appear most often. Sampajanna is
usually translated from the Pali as “clear comprehension,” but this
type of awareness always has a reflexive quality: It invariably
entails a monitoring of the state of one’s body or mind, sometimes
in relation to one’s environment. For this reason, I prefer to
translate sampajanna as “introspection,” which here
entails discerning observation not only of one’s mind but of one’s
physical and verbal activities as well.
What are some of the pitfalls of viewing meditation simply
as a process of bare attention? When mindfulness is
equated with bare attention, it can easily lead to the
misconception that the cultivation of mindfulness has nothing to do
with ethics or with the cultivation of wholesome states of mind and
the attenuation of unwholesome states. Nothing could be further
from the truth. In the Pali Abhidhamma, where mindfulness is listed
as a wholesome mental factor, it is not depicted as bare attention,
but as a mental factor that clearly distinguishes wholesome from
unwholesome mental states and behavior. And it is used to support
wholesome states and counteract unwholesome states.
What, then, is the role of bare attention? The
cultivation of bare attention is valuable in many ways, and there’s
a rapidly growing body of research on its benefits for both
psychological and physiological disorders. But it’s incorrect to
equate that with mindfulness, and an even greater error to think
that’s all there is to vipassana. If that were the case,
all the Buddha’s teachings on ethics, samadhi (highly
focused attention), and wisdom would be irrelevant. All too often,
people who assume that bare attention is all there is to meditation
reject the rest of Buddhism as clap-trap and mumbo-jumbo. The
essential teachings are dismissed rather than one’s own
preconceptions.
A frequent claim is that bare awareness will automatically
prevent unwholesome thoughts from arising. Is there any basis for
this notion in the texts? Bare awareness as calm,
nonreactive awareness of one’s meditative object plays a crucial
role in samatha practice, which alleviates such afflictive mental
states as craving, aversion, dullness, agitation, and doubt. There
are also many accounts in Buddhist texts of people gaining
profound, liberating insights through what appears to be bare
attention. Perhaps the most well-known case is that of the
wandering ascetic Bahiya. After becoming a highly accomplished
contemplative, he recognized that he still hadn’t achieved
liberation, so he sought out the guidance of the Buddha, who told
him, “In reference to the seen, there will be only the seen. In
reference to the heard, only the heard. In reference to the sensed,
only the sensed. In reference to the cognized, only the cognized.
That is how you should train yourself.” And Bahiya immediately
achieved liberation.
We could easily conclude from this that bare
attention is all that is needed in insight meditation. But we must
remember that Bahiya’s case was exceptional. He had already
achieved a very high level of spiritual maturation before he met
the Buddha, so these quintessential instructions were all he needed
to completely purify his mind of all mental afflictions. For the
rest of us, the rich diversity of theories and practices in
Buddhism can be a great aid. Bare awareness can play an important
role in this, and on occasion it may indeed prevent unwholesome
thoughts from arising. But if we stick to bare attention alone, it
can also prevent wholesome thoughts from arising! For example,
meditations for the cultivation of the four sublime virtues of
lovingkindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity are all
practiced with mindfulness but not bare attention. Bare attention
is not a complete practice, and by itself it can be helpful and yet
very limiting.
Do the differing definitions of mindfulness have any
practical bearing? Or is this just a semantic issue? It’s
far more than a semantic issue. In common usage the English term
mindfulness simply means to be aware, or heedful.
Sati has a much richer connotation, so those wishing to
practice Buddhist meditation are well advised to gain as clear an
understanding of this and other related terms as they can, based on
the most authoritative sources they can find. Otherwise, Buddhist
meditation quickly devolves into a vague kind of “be here now”
mentality, in which the extraordinary depth and richness of
Buddhist meditative traditions are lost.
Would it help to standardize the meaning of
mindfulness? Out of respect for the integrity of each
tradition, it would be a mistake to force them all into the same
mold. It’s important to be sensitive to differences among different
schools. But insofar as the discourses attributed to the Buddha and
the major commentaries agree on the meaning of mindfulness, this
should be recognized by Buddhists of all schools.
In his classic fifth-century work The Path of
Purification, Buddhaghosa, the most authoritative commentator
in the Theravada tradition, begins his explanation of this topic by
stating that it is by means of mindfulness that we are able to
recall things or events in the past, which echoes the Buddha’s
definition of this term. Its characteristic, Buddhaghosa writes, is
“not floating,” in that the mind is closely engaged with the chosen
object of attention. Its property is “not losing,” indicating that
mindfulness enables us to maintain our attention without
forgetfulness. Its manifestation is “guarding” or being “face to
face with the object,” implying that “the rope of mindfulness”
holds the attention firmly to its chosen object, whether it is a
relatively stable, single object or a continuum of interrelated
events. Its basis is “strong noting,” suggesting its discerning
quality, which is crucial when closely practicing
satipatthana (the Four Applications of
Mindfulness)—mindfulness of the body, feelings, thoughts, and other
phenomena. As Buddhaghosa comments that mindfulness should be seen
as a post set in its object, and as a gatekeeper guarding the doors
of perception. On the basis of this classic, authoritative account,
we can easily see why mindfulness is essential for samatha
and vipassana in particular and for spiritual practice in
general. Traditionally, samatha is the primary method for
cultivating mindfulness, while in the practice of
vipassana one applies mindfulness and wisdom (panna) to
body, mind, feelings, and other phenomena.
In its psychological role as recollection,
sati is an ordinary mental faculty we use in daily life.
Some of the exercises in satipatthana, such as
contemplating the anatomical parts of the body, can’t possibly be
done with bare attention—for example, as satipatthana is
used in the practice of mentally scanning bodily sensations. In all
cases, mindfulness as it is cultivated in spiritual practice is
applied with discerning intelligence, often viewing phenomena
within the contexts of Buddhist categories such as the five
aggregates. This is evident in the Buddha’s primary discourse on
satipatthana, which goes far beyond bare attention.
What’s the difference between mindfulness and right
mindfulness? Is there such a thing as wrong mindfulness? A
sniper hiding in the grass, waiting to shoot his enemy, may be
quietly aware of whatever arises with each passing moment. But
because he is intent on killing, he is practicing wrong
mindfulness. In fact, what he’s practicing is bare attention
without an ethical component. Generally speaking, right mindfulness
has to be integrated with sampajanna—again, introspection
involving clear comprehension—and it is only when these two work
together that right mindfulness can fulfill its intended purpose.
Specifically, in the practice of the Four Applications of
Mindfulness, right mindfulness has to occur in the context of the
full Noble Eightfold Path: For example, it must be guided by right
view, motivated by right intention, grounded in ethics, and be
cultivated in conjunction with right effort. Without right view or
right intention, one could be practicing bare attention without its
ever developing into right mindfulness. So bare attention doesn’t
by any means capture the complete significance of
vipassana, but represents only the initial phase in the
meditative development of right mindfulness.
There’s a tendency in some circles to favor
vipassana practice over samatha practice. Can you
say something about that? The term samatha,
variously translated as “tranquility” or “meditative quiescence,”
refers to a wide range of practices for the purpose of achieving
samadhi, or highly focused attention, or single-pointed
concentration. Both mindfulness and introspection are integral to
all samatha practices, and the concentrated awareness one
achieves through such practice may be applied to any kind of
object, small or large, simple or complex, relatively stable or
changing. samatha practice is often overlooked or at best
marginalized in many contemporary schools of Buddhism, including
Zen, Theravada, and Tibetan Buddhism. With its emphasis on “sudden
enlightenment,” the Zen tradition doesn’t teach samatha as
a separate practice. Rather, it’s incorporated into the
zazen practice of “just sitting” and into meditations on
koans. This same trend has recently carried over into the
modern vipassana tradition, which de-emphasizes
samatha. But in traditional Theravada and Mahayana
literature, samatha practices take a central role in the
familiar triad of ethics, mental balance (the broader meaning of
samadhi), and wisdom. Moreover, the array of Buddhist
practices taught in the category of samadhi covers much
more than just developing single-pointed concentration. These
practices are aimed at cultivating exceptional states of mental
health and balance, and all insight meditations are optimally
practiced on that basis. Without mindfulness, mental balance cannot
be developed. And without the stability and vividness of attention
achieved through samatha practice, Buddhist wisdom
practices are bound to be impaired by mental agitation, dullness,
and other hindrances. Ethics and mental balance support each other,
as do samatha and vipassana.
Mindfulness as a practice is normally associated with the
Theravada tradition. What role does it play in Vajrayana
practice? Mindfulness, as the faculty of sustaining
continuous attention on a chosen object, is indispensable for all
kinds of meditation. In the many visualization exercises included
in Vajrayana meditations, mindfulness enables one to sustain such
imagery with stability and clarity. Vajrayana also includes
Mahamudra and Dzogchen meditations, and here, once again, stable,
luminous, nonreactive attention is strongly emphasized, as it is in
Zen. But the basis for these wisdom practices is still the
cultivation of mental balance, including calm, vivid
attention.
In authentic Mahamudra practice, for instance, one
first trains in the fundamental teachings of the Four Noble Truths,
including the practices of ethics, mental balance, and wisdom. Then
one ventures into the Mahayana teachings, especially those on the
Bodhisattva ideal, the “Perfection of Wisdom” explanations of
emptiness and dependent origination, and the Buddha-nature. On that
basis, one is initiated into Vajrayana Buddhism, with its own
unique practices for transmuting one’s body, speech, and mind into
the body, speech, and mind of a buddha. Finally, one is trained in
the specific view, meditation, and way of life of the Mahamudra
tradition. The meditation entails a kind of radical “not-doing,” in
which one rests in unstructured awareness, releasing grasping onto
all kinds of sensory appearances, memories, and thoughts. As a
result of such practice, all experiences gradually arise as aids to
one’s spiritual awakening, and finally all phenomena are perceived
as pure expressions of primordial consciousness, or
Buddha-nature.
The first phase of Dzogchen meditation, known as the
“breakthrough,” is very similar to Mahamudra, and at first glance
they may seem identical to the bare attention practiced in the
modern vipassana tradition and in Zen. But as we’ve noted
in the discussion of right mindfulness, the context of one’s
practice is crucial, and methods that appear the same on the
surface may have deep, underlying differences. Traditionally, Zen
monks, for example, would commonly train in ethics and study the
great treatises of their tradition for years before they would
devote themselves single-pointedly to meditation. The same is often
true in the Theravada and Tibetan Buddhism. Each of these
traditions presents the practice of meditation within the context
of its own worldview, deeply informed by Buddhist insights.
What are some of the distinctive features in the Mahayana
and Vajrayana worldviews that would make their use of mindfulness
different from that of the Theravada tradition? Right
mindfulness emerges only within the context of right view and right
intention, and each of those schools of Buddhism has its own
distinct interpretation of these latter two elements of the Noble
Eightfold Path. In Theravada Buddhism, right view focuses on the
three themes of impermanence, suffering, and nonself. Right
intention is a motivation for practice based on the recognition of
the nature and causes of suffering and the yearning to gain
irreversible liberation from all mental afflictions that lie at the
root of suffering. Some contemporary Vipassana teachers seldom
emphasize right view or right intention, and I think it’s doubtful
that the practice of mindfulness alone will result in any
“world-transcending” realizations. Again, if mindfulness as it is
commonly understood today were all that is needed to achieve
liberation, then all the rest of the Buddha’s teachings would be
pointless.
In Mahayana Buddhism, right mindfulness is practiced
together with the view of emptiness, dependent origination, and
Buddha-nature, and with the intention to achieve perfect
enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings. Without such a
view and motivation, it is said that the practice of mindfulness
and all related forms of meditation will not lead to Buddhahood. In
the Vajrayana tradition, right view includes the “pure vision” of
perceiving all phenomena as expressions of primordial
consciousness, and right intention is the altruistic motivation to
achieve perfect enlightenment as swiftly as possible for the sake
of all beings. This is the same motivation as for Mahayana
practice, but it has a greater sense of urgency.
In each of those cases, mindfulness takes on a
distinct flavor, just as it does if it’s practiced with a
materialistic worldview and a mundane motivation—that is, simply to
relieve stress and find greater happiness in this lifetime alone.
When bare attention is practiced within the context of a modern,
materialistic worldview, there’s no basis for believing it will
produce the same results as when it’s practiced within the context
of Theravada, Mahayana, or Vajrayana Buddhism.
Over the past century, Buddhism has been undergoing
a kind of Protestant Reformation, with the decline of Buddhist
monasticism and the increased popularity of meditation among lay
Buddhists. It is wonderful that so many people nowadays are
incorporating Buddhist meditation into their daily lives. But it is
important not to overlook the value of devoting years to the study
and practice of meditation as one’s sole vocation. After all, we
would not entrust our teeth to someone who had simply taken a
number of dentistry workshops and practiced for an hour or so a
day, so shouldn’t we be even more careful about entrusting our
minds to meditation instructors without years of professional
training in the theory and practice of meditation?
It all depends on our view and intention with regard
to meditation. If what we really want is a kind of meditative
therapy to help us relieve stress, work through personal
psychological problems, and lead a more balanced life, we don’t
need highly trained meditation teachers. But insofar as we set our
goals higher—to liberation from the cycle of existence and the
realization of perfect enlightenment—then we need to rely on those
who have been professionally trained for years in the theory and
practice of meditation. Traditionally, monastics have played a
crucial role in this regard, and I hope they will continue to do so
in the future. But for that to happen, they need to be supported by
the Buddhist laity, as they have been in the past.
With part-time Buddhists in our Western communities, are we
unlikely to produce enlightened teachers? If we had only
part-time scientists, then no branch of science would have
progressed to its current level of sophistication. Likewise, if we
had only part-time doctors and psychotherapists, we would be much
worse off with respect to our physical and mental healthcare. More
broadly, imagine the world with only part-time mechanics,
electricians, farmers, and teachers. If we left all the major
professions in the hands of amateurs, modern civilization would be
immeasurably impoverished.
The path to spiritual awakening is the most
challenging of all human endeavors and entails the deepest
transformation of a human being from a deluded, miserable creature
to an enlightened sage. If we wish to produce enlightened teachers
in modern society, then individuals who wholeheartedly wish to
devote themselves to this path—whether or not they want to take
monastic ordination—should be given all possible support. This
would be our greatest gift to future generations.