The Way of Entering Inner Exploration
Ajahn Munindo
I expect many of us have read some of the scientific articles around these days that extol the benefits of meditation. Research into the effects meditation practice has on the brain has produced evidence of considerable benefits.
I’ve also come across articles disparaging and discouraging Buddhist meditation. Some people who have tried, but after a while given up, claim it can be unhelpful, dangerous and maybe even life-destroying. These claims are not necessarily by people who haven’t tried hard, who have just, say, done one Vipassanā course in India before giving up – sometimes they’re from people who have hammered away at meditation for years, but eventually become disillusioned.
I’m not really surprised by such results. As the Abbot of a monastery I naturally hear a lot about how people practise and the results. When we first come across these teachings, they present us not just with something to believe in, but something we can actually do about our consciousness, and this gives us a hope.
So we enter into the experience of meditation with enthusiasm, confidence and energy. We throw ourselves into practice and maybe we get some results. What do we do next? Once we’ve had some experience, especially some sort of ‘special’ experience, it’s easy to cling to the memory. If it was pleasant, we may try to repeat it. If it wasn’t pleasant, we may still cling to the memory, afraid that it may be repeated.
Sometimes the way meditation is taught over-emphasises technique. And clinging to technique can lead to clinging to results. In the beginning we learn from the techniques. But the idea that that is all there is to meditation is regrettable. It took me a long time to realize that a technician’s approach wasn’t working for me. I eventually noticed how preoccupied I was with the ‘form’ of practice and that I was losing touch with the ‘spirit’.
The point of practice, the spirit, is to deepen in understanding and ease. Worrying about stages to pass and skills to accomplish was conditioning rigidity of heart and mind. If I took the attitude that something was wrong with me and these techniques would fix it, attention became exclusive and limiting. It fed into the gaining mind; the idea of never being good enough; always having to get somewhere.
How we pick up the techniques determines how we relate to experience. Over-emphasis on the forms can lead to more clinging, not less. In the West, with our strong wilful attitude to life, this can be particularly pronounced. Not everybody in the world views life as we do. In Asia people are generally more relaxed and trusting. In their cultures mystery, myth and faith still have relevance.
In our culture we tend to distrust everything; we’re taught to doubt, to question. That does, of course, have benefits. It also has limitations. ‘Myth’ has become synonymous with ‘false’. Rituals are for primitive people.
We need to be careful that we don’t bring our wilful manipulative tendencies into the most important aspect of our lives. Good health, warm relationships, money, food and shelter are all important, but when we die the most important thing will be the state of our consciousness.
So the way we enter our inner exploration is most important, and we are not obliged to assume a technical approach to it.
This reflection by Ajahn Munindo is from the article “The Art of Meditation.”
