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Awareness and equanimity—this is Vipassana meditation. When practised together, they lead to liberation from suffering. If either is weak or lacking, it is not possible to progress on the path toward that goal. Both are essential, just as a bird requires two wings to fly or a cart needs two wheels to move. And they must be equally strong. If one wing of a bird is weak and the other powerful, it cannot fly properly. If one wheel of a cart is small and the other large, it will keep going around in circles. The meditator must develop both awareness and equanimity together in order to advance along the path.

We must become aware of the totality of mind and matter in their subtlest nature. For this purpose it is not enough merely to be mindful of superficial aspects of body and mind, such as physical movements or thoughts. We must develop awareness of sensations throughout the body and maintain equanimity toward them.

If we are aware but lack equanimity, then the more conscious we become of the sensations within and the more sensitive we become to them, the more likely we are to react, thereby increasing suffering. On the other hand, if we have equanimity, but know nothing about the sensations within, then this equanimity is only superficial, concealing reactions that are constantly going on unknown in the depths of the mind. Thus we seek to develop both awareness and equanimity at the deepest level. We seek to be conscious of everything that happen within and at the same time not to react to it, understanding that it will change.

This is true wisdom: the understanding of one's own nature, an understanding achieved by direct experience of truth deep within oneself. This is what the Buddha called yathā-bhūta-ñāna- dassana, the wisdom that arises on observing reality as it is. With this wisdom one can emerge from suffering. Every sensation that occurs will give rise only to the understanding of impermanence. All reactions cease, all saṅkhāras of craving and aversion. By learning how to observe reality objectively, one stops creating suffering for oneself.

The Stock of Past Reactions

Remaining aware and balanced is the way to stop producing new reactions, new sources of misery. But there is another dimension to our suffering which must also be dealt with. By ceasing to react from this moment forward, we may create no further cause of misery, but each one of us has a stock of conditioning, the sum total of our past reactions. Even if we add nothing new to the stock, the accumulated old saṅkhāras will still cause us suffering.

The word saṅkhāra may be translated as “formation,” both the act of forming and that which is formed. Every reaction is the last step, the result in a sequence of mental processes, but it can also be the first step, the cause in a new mental sequence. Every saṅkhāra is both conditioned by the processes leading to it and also conditions the processes that follow.

The conditioning operates by influencing the second of the mental functions, perception (discussed in Chapter Two). Consciousness is basically undifferentiating, non-discriminating. Its purpose is merely to register that contact has occurred in mind or body. Perception, however, is discriminative. It draws on the store of past experiences in order to evaluate and categorize any new phenomenon. The past reactions become the points of reference by which we seek to understand a new experience; we judge and classify it in accordance with our past saṅkhāras.

In this way the old reactions of craving and aversion influence our perception of the present. Instead of seeing reality, we see “as through a glass darkly.” Our perception of the world outside and of the world within is distorted and blurred by our past conditioning, our preferences and prejudices. In accordance with the distorted perception, an essentially neutral sensation immediately becomes pleasant or unpleasant. To this sensation we again react, creating fresh conditioning which distorts our perceptions further. In this way each reaction becomes the cause of future reactions, all conditioned by the past and conditioning the future in turn.

The dual function of saṅkhāra is shown in the Chain of Conditioned Arising (see pp. 48 & 49). The second link in the chain is saṅkhāra, which is the immediate precondition for the arising of consciousness, the first of the four mental processes. However, saṅkhāra is also last in the series of processes, following consciousness, perception, and sensation. In this form it reappears, later in the chain, after sensation, as the reaction of craving and aversion. Craving or aversion develop into attachment, which becomes the impetus for a new phase of mental and physical activity. Thus the process feeds on itself. Every saṅkhāra unleashes a chain of events that result in a new saṅkhāra, which unleashes a fresh chain of events in an endless repetition, a vicious circle. Every time that we react, we reinforce the mental habit of reaction. Every time that we develop craving or aversion, we strengthen the tendency of the mind to continue generating them. Once the mental pattern is established, we are caught in it.

For example, a man prevents someone from attaining a desired object. The thwarted person believes that man is very bad and dislikes him. The belief is based not on a consideration of the man's character, but only on the fact that he has frustrated the second person's desires. This belief is deeply impressed in the unconscious mind of the thwarted person. Every subsequent contact with that man is coloured by it and gives rise to unpleasant sensation, which produces fresh aversion, which strengthens further the image. Even if the two meet after an interval of twenty years, the person who was thwarted long ago immediately thinks of that man as very bad and again feels dislike. The character of the first man may have changed totally in twenty years, but the second one judges him using the criterion of past experience. The reaction is not to the man himself, but to a belief about him based on the original blind reaction and therefore biased.

In another case, a man helps someone to achieve a desired object. The person who received assistance believes that man is very good, and likes him. The belief is based only on the fact that the man has helped to satisfy the second person's desires, not on careful consideration of his character. The positive belief is recorded in the unconscious and colours any subsequent contact with that man, giving rise to pleasant sensation, which results in stronger liking, which further strengthens the belief. No matter how many years pass before the two meet again, the same pattern repeats itself with each fresh contact. The second person reacts not to the man himself, but only to his belief about him, based on the original blind reaction.

In this way a saṅkhāra can give rise to fresh reaction, both immediately and in the distant future. And each subsequent reaction becomes the cause of still further reactions, which are bound to bring nothing but more misery. This is the process of repetition of reactions, of suffering. We assume that we are dealing with external reality when actually we are reacting to our sensations, which are conditioned by our perceptions, which are conditioned by our reactions. Even if from this moment we stop generating new saṅkhāras, still we have to reckon with the accumulated past ones. Because of this old stock, a tendency to react will remain and at any time may assert itself, generating new misery for us. So long as this old conditioning persists, we are not entirely free from suffering.

How can one eradicate the old reactions? To find the answer to this question it is necessary to understand more deeply the process of Vipassana meditation.

Eradicating Old Conditioning

In practising Vipassana, our task is simply to observe sensations throughout the body. The cause of any particular sensation is beyond our concern; it is sufficient to understand that every sensation is an indication of an internal change. The change may be either mental or physical in origin; mind and body function interdependently and often cannot be differentiated. Whatever occurs at one level is likely to be reflected at the other.

At the physical level, as discussed in Chapter Two (pp. 25-26), the body is composed of subatomic particles—kalāpas—which every moment arise and pass away with great rapidity. As they do so, they manifest in an infinite variety of combinations the basic qualities of matter—mass, cohesion, temperature, and movement— producing within us the entire range of sensations.

There are four possible causes for the arising of kalāpas. The first is the food we eat; the second is the environment in which we live. But whatever occurs in the mind has an effect on the body and can be responsible for the arising of kalāpas. Hence particles may also arise because of a mental reaction occurring at the present moment, or because of a past reaction which influences the present mental state. In order to function, the body requires food. If one stops feeding the body, however, it will not collapse at once. It can continue to support itself, if necessary, for weeks by consuming the energy stored in its tissues. When all the stored energy is consumed, at last the body will collapse and die: the physical flow comes to an end.

In the same way the mind requires activity in order to maintain the flow of consciousness. This mental activity is saṅkhāra. According to the chain of conditioned arising, consciousness originates from reaction (see p. 48). Each mental reaction is responsible for giving impetus to the flow of consciousness. And while the body requires food only at intervals throughout the day, the mind requires constant fresh stimulation. Without it, the flow of consciousness cannot continue even for an instant. For example, at a given moment one generates aversion in the mind: in the next moment the consciousness that arises is the product of this aversion, and so on, moment after moment. One keeps repeating the reaction of aversion from one moment to the next, and keeps giving new input to the mind.

By practising Vipassana, however, the meditator learns not to react. At a given moment, he creates no saṅkhāra, he gives no fresh stimulation to the mind. What happens then to the psychic flow? It does not stop at once. Instead, one or another of the accumulated past reactions will come to the surface of the mind in order to sustain the flow. A past conditioned response will arise and from this base consciousness continues for another moment. The conditioning will appear at the physical level by causing a particular type of kalāpa to arise, which one then experiences as sensation within the body. Perhaps a past saṅkhāra of aversion arises, manifesting itself as particles, which one experiences as an unpleasant burning sensation within the body. If one reacts to that sensation with disliking, fresh aversion is created. One has started giving fresh input to the flow of consciousness, and there is no opportunity for another of the stock of past reactions to rise to the conscious level.

However, if an unpleasant sensation occurs and one does not react, then no new saṅkhāras are created. The saṅkhāra that has arisen from the old stock passes away. In the next moment, another past saṅkhāra arises as sensation. Again, if one does not react, it passes away. In this way, by maintaining equanimity, we allow accumulated past reactions to arise at the surface of the mind, one after another, manifesting themselves as sensations. Gradually, by maintaining awareness and equanimity toward sensation, we eradicate the past conditioning.

So long as conditioning of aversion remains, the tendency of the unconscious mind will be to react with aversion when facing any unpleasant experience in life. So long as conditioning of craving remains, the mind will tend to react with craving in any pleasant situation. Vipassana works by eroding these conditioned responses. As we practise, we keep encountering pleasant and unpleasant sensations. By observing every sensation with equanimity, we gradually weaken and destroy the tendencies of craving and aversion. When the conditioned responses of a certain type are eradicated, one is free of that type of suffering. And when all conditioned responses have been eradicated one after another, the mind is totally liberated. One who well understood this process said,

Impermanent truly are conditioned things,
having the nature of arising and passing away.
If they arise and are extinguished,
their eradication brings true happiness.1

Every saṅkhāra arises and passes away, only in the next moment to arise again in endless repetition. If we develop wisdom and start observing objectively, the repetition stops and eradication begins. Layer after layer, the old saṅkhāras will arise and be eradicated, provided we do not react. As much as the saṅkhāras are eradicated, that much happiness we enjoy, the happiness of freedom from suffering. If all the past saṅkhāras are eradicated, we enjoy the limitless happiness of full liberation.

Vipassana meditation therefore is a kind of fasting of the spirit in order to eliminate past conditioning. Every moment for the whole of our lives we have generated reactions. Now, by remaining aware and balanced, we achieve a few moments in which we do not react, do not generate any saṅkhāra. Those few moments, no matter how brief, are very powerful; they set in motion the reverse process, the process of purification.

To trigger this process, we must literally do nothing; that is, we must simply refrain from any fresh reaction. Whatever might be the cause of the sensations we experience, we observe them with equanimity. The very act of generating awareness and equanimity will automatically eliminate old reactions, just as lighting a lamp will dispel the darkness from a room.

The Buddha once told a story about a man who had made great gifts of charity. But in concluding, the Buddha commented,

Even if he had performed the greatest charity, it would have been still more fruitful for him to take refuge with an accepting heart in the enlightened one, in the Dhamma, and in all saintly persons. And had he done so, it would have been still more fruitful for him to undertake with an accepting heart the five precepts. And had he done so, it would have been still more fruitful for him to cultivate good will toward all just for the time it takes to milk a cow. And had he done all of these, it would have been still more fruitful for him to develop the awareness of impermanence just for the time it takes to snap one's fingers.2

Perhaps the meditator is aware of the reality of sensations in the body only for a single moment, and does not react because he understands their transient nature. Even this brief moment will have a powerful effect. With patient, repeated, continuous practice, those few moments of equanimity will increase, and the moments of reaction will decrease. Gradually the mental habit of reacting will be broken and the old conditioning eradicated, until the time comes when the mind is freed of all reactions, past and present, liberated from all suffering.

Questions and Answers

QUESTION: This afternoon I tried a new position in which it was easy to sit for longer without moving, keeping my back straight, but I could not feel many sensations. I wonder, will the sensations eventually come, or should I go back to the old position?

S. N. GOENKA: Do not try to create sensations by deliberately choosing an uncomfortable position. If that were the proper way to practise, we would ask you to sit on a bed of nails! Such extremes will not help. Choose a comfortable position in which the body is upright, and let the sensations come naturally. Don't try to create them by force; just allow them to happen. They will come, because they are there. It may be that you were looking for sensations of the type you felt before, but there might be something else.

There were subtler sensations than before. In my first position it was hard to sit more than a short time without moving.

Then it is good that you have found a more suitable position. Now leave the sensations to nature. Perhaps some gross sensations have passed away and now you must deal with subtler ones, but the mind is not yet sharp enough to feel them. To make it sharper, work on the awareness of respiration for some time. This will improve your concentration and make it easy to feel subtle sensations.

I thought it was better if the sensations were gross, because that meant an old saṅkhāra was coming up.

Not necessarily. Certain impurities appear as very subtle sensations. Why crave for gross sensations? Whatever comes, gross or subtle, your job is to observe.

Should we try to identify which sensation is associated with which reaction?

That would be a meaningless waste of energy. It would be as if someone washing a dirty cloth stopped to check what caused each stain in the cloth. This would not help him to do his job, which is only to clean the cloth. For this purpose the important thing is to have a piece of laundry soap and to use it in the proper way. If one washes the cloth properly, all the dirt is removed. In the same way you have received the soap of Vipassana; now make use of it to remove all impurities from the mind. If you search for the causes of particular sensations, you are playing an intellectual game and you forget about anicca, about anattā. This intellectualizing cannot help you come out of suffering.

I am confused about who is observing and who or what is being observed.

No intellectual answer can satisfy you. You must investigate for yourself: “What is this ‘I' who is doing all this? Who is this ‘I'?” Keep on exploring, analyzing. See whether any ‘I' comes up; if so, observe it. If nothing comes then accept, “Oh, this “I” is an illusion!”

Aren't some types of mental conditioning positive? Why try to eradicate those?

Positive conditioning motivates us to work toward liberation from suffering. But when that goal is attained, all conditioning is left behind, positive and negative. It is just like using a raft to cross a river. Once the river is crossed, one does not continue on one's journey carrying the raft on one's head. The raft has served its purpose. Now there is no more need for it, and it must be left behind.3 In the same way, one who is fully liberated has no need of conditioning. A person is liberated not because of positive conditioning, but because of purity of mind.

Why do we experience unpleasant sensations when we start practising Vipassana, and why do pleasant sensations come later?

Vipassana works by eradicating the grossest impurities first. When you clean a floor, first you sweep together all the rubbish and pieces of dirt, and with each succeeding sweeping you gather finer and finer dust. So in the practice of Vipassana: First the gross impurities of the mind are eradicated and subtler ones remain which appear as pleasant sensations. But there is a danger of developing craving for these pleasant sensations. Therefore you must be careful not to take a pleasant sensory experience as the final goal. You must keep observing every sensation objectively in order to eradicate all conditioned reactions.

You said that we have our dirty linen, and we also have the soap to wash it. I feel today as if I almost ran out of soap! This morning my practice was very powerful, but in the afternoon I began to feel really hopeless and angry, and to think, “Oh, what's the use!” It was just as if when the meditation was strong, an enemy inside me— the ego perhaps—matched that strength and knocked me out. And then I felt I did not have the strength to fight it. Is there some way to sidestep so that I don't have to fight so hard, some clever way to do it?

Maintain equanimity; that is the smartest way! What you have experienced is quite natural. When the meditation seemed to you to be going well, the mind was balanced, and it penetrated deeply into the unconscious. As a result of that deep operation, a past reaction was shaken and came to the surface level of the mind, and in the next sitting you had to face that storm of negativity. In such a situation equanimity is essential, because otherwise the negativity will overpower you, and you cannot work. If equanimity seems weak, start practising the awareness of respiration. When a big storm comes, you have to put down your anchor and wait until it passes away. The breath is your anchor. Work with it and the storm will pass. It is good that this negativity has come to the surface, because now you have the opportunity to clear it out. If you keep equanimity it will pass away easily.

Am I actually getting that much good out of the practice if I don't have pain?

If you are aware and balanced, then—pain or no pain—you are certainly progressing. It is not that you must feel pain in order to make progress on the path. If there is no pain, accept that there is no pain. You just observe what is.

Yesterday I had an experience in which my entire body felt as if it had dissolved. It felt like it was just a mass of vibrations everywhere.

Yes?

And when this happened, I remembered that when I was a child I had a similar experience. All these years I have been looking for a way to come back to that experience. And then there it was again.

Yes?

So naturally I wanted the experience to continue, I wanted to prolong it. But it changed and passed away. And then I was working just to make it come back again, but it didn't come back. Instead, by this morning I had only gross sensations.

Yes?

And then I realized how unhappy I was making myself by trying to get that experience.

Yes?

And then I realized that in fact we aren't here to get any particular experience. Right?

Right.

That in fact we are here to learn to observe every experience without reacting. Right?

Right.

So what this meditation is really about is developing equanimity. Right?

Right!

It seems to me that it would take forever to eliminate all past saṅkhāras one by one.

That would be so if one moment of equanimity meant exactly one less saṅkhāra of the past. But in fact awareness of sensations takes you to the deepest level of the mind and allows you to cut the roots of past conditioning. In this way in a relatively short time you can eliminate entire complexes of saṅkhāras provided your awareness and equanimity are strong.

Then how long should the process take?

That depends on how great a stock of saṅkhāras you have to eliminate, and how strong your meditation is. You cannot measure the past stock but you can be sure that the more seriously you meditate, the more quickly you are approaching liberation. Keep working steadfastly toward that goal. The time is bound to come— sooner rather that later—when you will reach it.

Nothing But Seeing

There lived a recluse near where Bombay now stands, a very saintly man. All who met him revered him for his purity of mind, and many claimed that he must be fully liberated. Hearing himself described in such high terms, naturally this man began to wonder, “Perhaps I am in fact fully liberated.” But being an honest person, he examined himself carefully and found that there were still traces of impurities in his mind. Surely as long as impurities remained, he could not have reached the stage of perfect saintliness. So he asked those who came to pay respects to him, “Is there not anyone else in the world today who is known to be fully liberated?”

“Oh yes sir,” they replied, “there is the monk Gotama, called the Buddha, who lives in the city of Sāvatthī. He is known to be fully liberated, and he teaches the technique by which one can achieve liberation.”

“I must go to this man,” the recluse resolved. “I must learn from him the way to become fully liberated.” So he started walking from Bombay across all of central India and came at last to Sāvatthī, which is in the modern-day state of Uttar Pradesh, in northern India. Having arrived in Sāvatthī he made his way to the meditation center of the Buddha, and asked where he might find him.

“He has gone out,” one of the monks replied. “He has gone to beg for his meal in the city. Wait here and rest from your journey; he will return shortly.”

“Oh no, I cannot wait. I have no time to wait! Show me which way he has gone and I shall follow.”

“Well if you insist, there is the road he took. If you like, you can try to find him along the way.”

Without wasting a moment the recluse set off again, and came to the centre of the city. There he saw a monk going from house to house to beg for his food. The wonderful atmosphere of peace and harmony which surrounded this person convinced the recluse that he must be the Buddha, and asking a passer-by he found that it was indeed so.
There in the middle of the street, the recluse approached the Buddha, bowed down, and caught hold of his feet. “Sir,” he said, “I am told that you are fully liberated, and that you teach a way to achieve liberation. Please teach this technique to me.”

The Buddha said, “Yes, I teach such a technique, and I can teach it to you. But this is not the proper time or place. Go and wait for me at my meditation center. I'll soon return and teach you the technique.”

“Oh no sir, I cannot wait.”

“What, not for half an hour?”

“No sir, I cannot wait! Who knows? In half an hour I may die. In half an hour you may die. In half an hour all the confidence I have in you may die, and then I shan't be able to learn this technique. Now, sir, is the time. Please teach me now!”

The Buddha looked at him and saw, “Yes, this man has little time left; he will die in just a few minutes. He must be given Dhamma here and now.” And how to teach Dhamma while standing in the middle of the street? He spoke only a few words, but those words contained the entire teaching: “In your seeing, there should be only seeing; in your hearing nothing but hearing; in your smelling, tasting, touching nothing but smelling, tasting, touching; in your cognizing, nothing but cognizing.” When contact occurs through any of the six bases of sensory experience, there should be no valuation, no conditioned perception. Once perception starts evaluating any experience as good or bad, one sees the world in a distorted way because of one's old blind reactions. In order to free the mind from all conditioning, one must learn to stop evaluating on the basis of past reactions and to be aware, without evaluating and without reacting.

The recluse was a man of such pure mind that these few words of guidance were enough for him. There by the side of the road, he sat down and fixed his attention on the reality within. No valuation, no reaction; he simply observed the process of change within himself.

And within the few minutes left to him to live, he attained the final goal, he became fully liberated.4

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