So what is awareness? Is awareness all you
need? Is it already here and now, and if so, is there any need to develop it?
Do I have to work at meditation, give up options and possibly fun, plunge into
introspective exercises that could be psychologically harrowing, (as well as
taxing on my knees and back) in order to move a few inches along a spiritual
Path – when just to be aware of that
driven attitude and let go of it promises a return to a primary luminescence
that is already here?
Yes, the idea of just being aware and
letting go of all mental activity seems straightforward, and is a blessed
relief for those of us who’ve spent years struggling away at a technique with
the hope of mastering the mind and getting enlightened. But speaking
personally, I’ve still had to work at letting go. The fact is I don’t always see, or
feel, where I’m holding on. Being simply and non-reactively aware of what arises
in my mind is certainly a good place to start (if I can be non-reactive, that
is). It feels peaceful, and offers potential for clarity and for deepening into
direct experience. This pausing from mental activity allows me to witness the
cascade and flurries of mental/emotional phenomena, bodily twinges, external
sounds and all the responses that they bring up. And to relax the urges to
make, do, define, hold onto, or fight with what is arising; to open to and
merge with the awareness that unfolds from all that activity – this, surely, is
what Awakening is about. Here is the possibility to also be present with others
and relax the defenses, the comparisons and the game-plans and be part of a
sharing field. Here is the ground for value, stability, empathy and clarity.
Why then did the Buddha advocate so much effort
and an ongoing cultivation of many factors, if this simple witnessing is all
that’s needed? And how come most of us
don’t let go, or even see the need to do so?
Well, to explore that, I’ll report on how
things happen: here and now is the steadiest place to start. Now there is
awareness of light splashing over my desk, of the faint grumbling of a vacuum
flask as it leaks its heat, the cool temperature of the room, the sensations of
my feet on the chair, energy moving into thought and so on. This process is
what the Buddha meant by ‘consciousness’ (viññāna).
As I track that experience of consciousness for a few minutes, I notice that
the sights and sounds change, and other phenomena take their place: if I close
my eyes, the mental and bodily domains become more apparent. I notice also that
the focus shifts. It intensifies around points of interest, and it gets directed
to find and hold a sensation, or an idea, memory or intellectual development
based on what I am observing through my senses. Whatever is focused on becomes
the occupation of consciousness, and the starting point for perceptions,
interpretations and mental activities. There is an abiding sense of subtle
presence, which seems to be ‘behind’ this changing experience, but that tends
to disappear as my mind gets engrossed in its preoccupations and ideas. And so a certain application, an effort of
sorts, is needed to regain the balance of witnessing. It's mostly a matter of tuning in to an overview, but it does takes application.
As I sustain the overview, the sense of presence interests me. It seems to be a something in consciousness that stands apart from
any object, and is my true nature or self. However, if I don't go into it, I notice that it's also an aspect of this conscious process. There’s an object, such as a sight, sound or
thought; an activation in terms of impressions and interest; and a knowing presence. They co-arise. The objects can refine – awareness of subtle
energies in the body, or awareness of the act of forming and relaxing a focus,
awareness of a still and open sensitivity – and the activations waver from clear and confident to foggy and uncertain, but the 'presence' of consciousness is bound up with an object. So consciousness is not a separate thing. In fact if I assume any
aspect of it is, and try to find and distil that sense of presence out of the
raw flow of events, that act of will, that wish to find my Self, blocks
responsiveness.
Consciousness is then the experience of ‘being with’ a sight, sound, thought,
etc. So when there is the movement to
attach to or grasp any aspect of consciousness, balance is lost – just as when
a tightrope walker tries to grip the wire that they’re walking on.
Consciousness – the co-arising of object, knowing of it and subtle presence –
is a process that has to be adjusted to. Which is a kind of effort. Yet, if I maintain that balance, if I incline towards resting in that
relational sense, I don’t feel bonded to sights, sounds and the rest. I feel
less embedded in what’s arising and able to respond, step back, engage or
investigate. This understanding of consciousness
as a relational act – the stream of knowing that occurs between an active sense
base and an object – renders the mind freer, clearer and more able to
empathize.
So the difference between just being
conscious and being aware (or fully conscious) hinges on paying attention to
the conscious flow, as I’ve just illustrated. This engagement of attention, heedfulness, (appamāda) is the introduction to the Path of Awakening:
Heedfulness is the Path to the Deathless,
heedlessness is the Path to Death.
The heedful do not die,
the heedless are as dead already.
Dhammapada 21
Stark, but fitting. When we don’t pay
attention, we drift, or are pulled through life along the pulsing current of
sights, sounds, fashions, headlines, flashing lights, and special offers that
capture our attention. In the public domain, the general disembodiment and
entrancement with mobile phones and internet networks is reminiscent of spirit
possession. When there is heedfulness,
we are more capable of discernment and making clear choices; we might call it
‘being fully aware’ (although it’s actually just the beginning of the development).
And what is the difference between heedlessness and heedfulness? Paying attention, and applying whatever effort is needed to do so.
Awareness
as wisdom
So another way in which awareness appears
in the Buddha’s presentation is in terms of the discernment that supports a
clear response. Dependent on heedfulness, there is awareness of how things are
and how they happen. This awareness is called ‘wisdom’ (paññā) – though
it might be better to put the English term, with its intellectual nuances, to
one side for now. As a direct experience, awareness as wisdom assesses and
engages (or disengages) clearly with what arises in consciousness. In other
words, rather than responding through a blurred fumble and tumble of reflexes,
reactions, desires, prejudices and phobias; rather than relating to the world
and others as projections of needs and fears; rather than categorizing events
and people into ‘another one of those’ or ‘the same old thing’ – we can meet
what arises in consciousness as it specifically is. Receptivity and accuracy of
response depend on this paññā faculty,
and the key feature of paññā is that,
although it supports clear thinking, it’s not about calculation or abstract
knowledge. It is the faculty that can meet (rather than grab or reject or react
to) and assess what arises. The most immediate effect of this isn’t that we
come up with all kinds of conclusions and judgements, but that the mind is
suffused with calm and sensitivity. Based on that, wise actions and thoughts,
or stillness, can occur.
The point here is that, although wisdom can
handle concepts, its salient feature is the handling rather than the concepts.
It’s the knowing that a hand has when it picks up and handles a fragile object,
the awareness that muscles use when they ‘know’ how heavy something is, the
awareness that knows how to listen to another with sympathy but without
adopting what they say. And although it
is a basic potential, it develops with practice: a child’s hands aren’t skilful
with fragile objects; if we’re not careful we strain our backs through lifting
things in a careless way, and someone who hasn’t focused on and learnt from the
mental domain can’t handle thoughts and emotions – they get snared or fight
with them.
The development of awareness as wisdom
comes then through application to consciousness; through paying attention and
meeting what arises. Then we get to know that the thoughts and moods that
occupy our minds about past present and future, and all that stuff about me and
you actually arise (rather than make up a bag of solid matter that we carry
around, day by day, hour by hour). Through paying attention in a sustained and
focused way, through mindfulness and ‘full
awareness’ (sati-sampajññā), we
also get to know how things arise –
what triggers and conditions the arising of moods, impulses and memories. We
get to sense directly how we’re affected, how beneficial experiences come to be
and how distressing ones can cease.
To summarize: awareness in the Buddha’s
presentation refers not to one but to two things: the receptivity of (rather
than the object of) consciousness, and the responsive quality of wisdom. They
are conjoined and how they are conjoined and the result of that is what
Awakening is about. To look briefly at a
sutta:
‘Wisdom
and consciousness, friend – these states are conjoined…For what one wisely
understands, that one cognizes, and what one cognizes, that one wisely
understands…
‘The
difference, friend…is this: wisdom is to be developed, consciousness is to be
fully understood.’ [M43. 5 & .6]
In this passage, the conjoining is the crux
for development. As I’ve suggested
above, the turning of awareness as wisdom onto awareness as consciousness is
the vital initiation. Or, in simple terms, paying attention and maintaining
that clear focus on what arises in consciousness is the way of Awakening. It's not an effort that is about changing objects, but about staying whole and connected. Because as long as
we’re not clear and balanced about what’s arising in consciousness, our
awareness is split: we’re conscious but not wise.
With that splitting there is no aware
handling of what arises in consciousness, and our minds, hearts, reflexes and
entire nervous system get flooded. Furthermore, with the loss of wise handling,
the tide of sights, sounds, moods and thoughts elicits reactions of holding
onto or blocking out phenomena. We get overwhelmed, reactive, or numb. In all
cases, the result is a heightened sense of a separate self, loss of balance,
and the formation of views, preoccupation, fears and obsession. Consequently there is the collapse of
the sense of subtle presence which is the hallmark of a balanced consciousness.
We ‘lose ourselves’ in the flood or the freezing.
This is why I am critical of any suggestion
that the potential for response be seen as secondary to being aware. It’s a
stance one can adopt: attend to the sense of subtle presence, one’s true and
untroubled nature, and let the rest of the stuff sort itself out. True enough,
by doing that one isn’t overwhelmed; and it’s also true that disengaging and
letting the most immediate reactions pass is the opening move that allows a
wise response to occur. As long as the
disengagement isn’t about freezing or losing focus. Because it’s also the case
that we can use that move as a defence against feeling the feeling as it
arises. Feeling a feeling as a feeling, and being aware of a mind-state as a
mind-state is the Buddha’s message, and the encouragement is to allow a
response (to engage, investigate or maintain equanimity) to come from that
vulnerable point of ‘being with’ what arises. Feeling a feeling as it arises
may very well challenge one’s expectations and attitudes. It may put pressure
on one’s comfort boundaries. And that’s why there is a requirement for effort
as a means to stay in touch and not distract, blame or spin out.
So there is a valid disengagement, but it
isn’t about zoning out of touch, but the requirement to let go of one’s
avoidance strategies and self-boundaries.
This disengagement (viveka), can be felt as a softening of held attitudes, or a relaxation of
the need to arrive at a conclusion or get what one wants. Rather than a
disengagement that splits awareness,
viveka enables a widening of perspective without a loss of focus. Just as
in aerial photography, a certain distancing from the detail of what is arising
while maintaining the focus, often brings the crucial ‘buried’ aspects to
light.
In practical terms, what this amounts to is
a ‘lifting’ from the nerve-endings, or the hot-spot of what’s arising. The
thoughts are running, powered by emotion, the story (often the same old story)
is in full flow – and you notice the overwhelm and the loss of presence.
And the first response is to pull out of that trap. Most often this means going
to the bodily aspects of the experience, to what’s happening in your face,
around your eyes, in your belly, across your chest. You ground yourself by
widening your awareness to include your whole body, notably areas that aren’t
contracted with defensiveness or flaring with passion. ( the back, the soles of
the feet) Then continuing to widen, as you find stability and start to open out
of the somatic pattern, you soften around the eyes, in the belly, wherever you
need to. With this you turn down the passion, the pressure of what’s bothering
you, or the flurry of ‘fix this, I shouldn’t be this way.’ You withdraw energy
from the problematic pattern and return to wholeness. This is the response of ‘dispassion’ (viraga).
And just as viveka doesn’t lose the focus on the topic, viraga doesn’t dump the emotional pattern, it just turns down the
voltage, or releases the locking, so that you can contemplate the rage, fear,
feeling of rejection and so on. Taken in sequence, viveka and viraga
represent maturations of wisdom in terms of insight. Widening and softening
supports a deeper penetration.
The
development of wisdom: widening supports deepening.
The line of development of wisdom quite
naturally follows the process of widening and deepening. In order to live
effectively with a conscious process that can range between deep sleep through
waking and functioning to the more refined planes of meditative absorption, we
have to handle the data that arise in our minds. We look towards how we will
have a greater capacity and effectiveness of response. This inclination – to widen our perspectives
and deepen our responses – is the basis of what Awakening is about.
The effort that supports development is about staying balanced. If we’re able to walk the swaying tightrope
of the conscious process without introverting into who is doing the walking, or
extroverting into the view beneath our feet, or otherwise spinning out – that
will bring the optimal results. However, not all states of consciousness
support widening and deepening. In the case of the dream state of
consciousness, for example, images and moods arise which may trigger reactions
of fear, pleasure or excitement. These responses don’t bring around any
long-term benefit. There isn’t the capacity to learn, assess or measure. States
of intoxication are also accompanied by ineffectual responses, because what the
mind is responding in reckless ways to an impaired perception. Psychotic or
neurotic states of consciousness are also unhelpful and painful. Even everyday
obsessiveness, fault-finding, vanity or depression severely limit our capacity
to widen and deepen and remain balanced. The trajectory of the development of
awareness has to be towards greater clarity of perception and skilfulness of
response.
This development doesn’t have to be limited
to a meditation technique. It’s mostly down to ‘wise’ or ‘deep’ attention (yoniso
manasikara). We can use this while we’re sitting still in meditation, but
paying attention is the ongoing cultivation of attention to the effects of thoughts, impulses, and attitudes. The wisdom in this is in doing so in
terms of consciousness rather than as a definition of self.
Deep attention means picking up the pattern
of a thought or an attitude and exploring what mental state it results in. Say
I’m fantasizing about some new gadget or item of clothing, or about a sexual
partner: right now, what is the effect, what does it feel like to be in that
process. Obviously any kind of desire has an exciting lift to it, but if you
put aside the thought or the image, what does it feel like to have that energy
running through your mind? With deep
attention you put aside the assumptions and judgements and check it out
– and you do so repeatedly until you have reliable field notes on a psychological
pattern. Maybe you challenge your preferences, phobias and addictions by
undermining their imagery – imagining what the new and shiny will look
like in five years’ time for example. Maybe you just need to ask, as the Buddha
reportedly did, ‘Is this [mental pattern] for my welfare, the welfare of
others, and does it lead to Nibbana [liberation]?’
So deep attention causes us to widen our
perspectives from short-term gains to long-term ethical concerns. Then it
refines the ethical view from a simplistic ‘is it good or is it bad?’ into a
more sensitive evaluation that takes into account intention, mind-state, time
and place. As in: ‘Is this the right time and
manner in which to point out someone else’s error?’ So greater
development takes in concerns such as the attitudes and views that define good
and bad: ‘is mine a kindly or fault-finding mind’ ‘Do I do the same things
myself?’ ‘Am I attuned to what is for
the other person’s welfare?’ Whereas
undeveloped ethics becomes judgemental, a more fully aware attention will
acknowledge and discard harshness, righteousness, impatience, and bring forth
encouragement towards the good, clear boundaries and compassion towards the
bad.
Buddhist wisdom then takes on the quality
of what the Christian tradition calls agape
or spiritual love. If you follow that as
an experience, the flow of consciousness changes in accordance. We become
deeper, steadier, more reflective, and able to enjoy the benefits of a calm and
boundless heart.
Understanding
Consciousness
Through this wisdom, consciousness is ‘to be fully understood.’ The
term for ‘ fully understood’ here is pariññeyya.
It entails an entering into with
wisdom, a penetration of the workings of the conscious process in order to reveal how
it happens and to clear any obstructions. Check it out: consciousness is moved along by interest, attraction, and preference. These are ‘activities’ – sankhāra (or ‘programs’ as I like to
call them). The programming of these activities is what gives them their
familiar ‘me’ sense. ‘Here I go again, getting stuck in an opinion, wishing for peace, inclining towards company.’ With wise disengagement and dispassion, we get past
that ‘me’ assumption that can crop up in that, and contemplate why, or how, do things arise? What are the
causes? And if what arises is caused and conditioned, then it can’t be an
absolute. Furthermore, if what arises is caused, then that causal process need not be constantly activated. It could even cease. So neither the causal process – the impulse, the reaction, the attaching – nor what it creates or fixates on are me, mine, or myself. What would it be like without this activity? Can I just play with that suggestion?
Reasoned enquiry into cause and effect is
part of that checking and testing. However, in a profound sense enquiry is finally not
aimed at producing a more detailed map of who we are. In fact that process would
entail holding onto a map of patterns as something that is fixed, unchanging and 'my true self' – and that idea blocks liberation. No, enquiry is about knowing where to bring this
dispassionately loving attention to bear. Then comes the effort to resist the
power of obscuration or ‘ignorance’ that tips the conscious process over into
the mill-stream of compulsion and attachment.
And consequently, there is a release through non-activation, or ‘ceasing’ (nirodha) of the sankhara programs.
As awareness develops, effort is the condition for non-doing.
So the development of awareness is to
permeate the mechanisms of consciousness and release that which gives rise to
suffering and stress, to bondage, conceit, self-definition and views about
others and the seemingly endless process of fabrication. This is how
consciousness is brought to ‘ceasing’ and ‘relinquishment’
or release (vossagga). Ceasing, but
there isn’t an absolute end – in terms of phenomena that is. Ceasing stills the conscious process, so that
thoughts and images aren’t formed. But they will and have to arise again for
functioning life. When consciousness is fully understood, what is relinquished
is the inclination to take any aspect of the conscious experience, either the
data that flow through it, or the sense of presence which is its resonance, as
a separable entity. Our responsive
awareness is then freed from bias and the compulsion to act, or to not act. How much effort is needed is in the end a personal matter, but when you get a glimpse of freedom, application is a natural response. Don't you want to rise up and be present for that?
