This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Guided Meditation: Stillness; Insight (23) Seeing with an Unmoving Mind. It likely contains inaccuracies.
The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, California. Please visit website www.audiodharma.org to find the authoritative record of this talk.
Hello and welcome to this meditation at the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, California. And welcome to this YouTube community of people coming together to meditate and to hear the dharma. I appreciate this opportunity.
The topic for this week has been something that maybe is not automatically welcome to address, but this is suffering in all the different forms that it takes, from the mildest stress to the greatest catastrophes of life. Buddhist practice, the meditation practice we’re doing, was designed to address some of the deepest existential issues of our life and to address them directly and unflinchingly.
There are many different perspectives, many different ways of understanding, seeing, and experiencing what we might call suffering. As we do this practice of mindfulness, of samadhi1, of insight, a time comes when the challenges of our life—the challenges of our direct experience, the challenges of our emotional life, our physical life—are experienced, seen, and known from a place of great stillness.
There’s a place within. We find a place in awareness, in the heart, in the mind, deep inside, in the belly, or some place that has no location at all, that there is a profound sense of stillness, something unmoving, something imperturbable. It might be like being inside a very quiet, still room, looking out the window. Sometimes we have the sun, and in springtime, it’s nice to see. And sometimes there are winter storms with lots of snow, snowstorms, wind, and lightning. But we’re inside, and we’re still. The movement is outside, and it’s cozy, it’s nice, it’s safe, it’s comfortable to watch the snowstorm.
So rather than identifying with suffering, rather than becoming it, rather than being the victim of it or the receiver of it, the bearer of our challenges, there comes a time with the deepening of samadhi, the deepening of insight, that we can gaze upon our challenges from a place of profound stillness. A stillness that’s a little bit like the stillness of a vast open space, maybe a vast, open, spacious place in nature. Maybe the vastness of a large temple or cathedral where everything has a certain kind of stillness to it that holds it all.
So as we sit today, maybe with your imagination, maybe with all your senses or particular senses, maybe you can find some way of experiencing the present moment as it unfolds from a place of stillness. Some place inside that doesn’t move. It doesn’t go towards, doesn’t go away. Some place that’s so still inside that it’s almost like there’s nothing there to resist the experiences of life, like empty space. It just goes right through it.
Assuming a meditation posture and adjusting your position a little bit to bring your body into some degree of stillness. So to some degree, the body moves less than usual. Maybe it’s the larger movements of the body that become still. And within the wider stillness of the body, become aware of the movement of the body breathing, and how that movement of breathing occurs together with the wider stillness of the body.
As you exhale, relax into whatever stillness you also feel here.
There might be a stillness of the body that highlights the movements of the thinking mind, the energy activation. As you exhale, let the activation of a thinking mind, the edges of it, dissolve into the stillness.
And if how you’re mindful, how you’re aware, also moves from one thing to another, if the mind wanders off in thought and you bring it back, see if instead you can recognize a way of being aware, being mindful, that doesn’t move. A still, quiet knowing, like sitting quietly and very still on a chair while you look out a window. The awareness doesn’t move. You don’t move. Even though out the window there’s rain and wind and snow.
Know your direct experience without chasing it, without going after anything, without avoiding anything or trying to change anything. From whatever is the stillest, non-moving place that you find, know the movements, the activities, the experience you’re having, where first and foremost you know the movement of breathing, but you know it with an unmoving knowing.
Whenever you have a chance, settle back to the stillness that’s here. Settle back to maybe some core center that is unmoving, that maybe has no solidity. It’s more like the unmoving space in the middle of a large, peaceful space.
With whatever degree of calm or subtleness you have, feel your way, imagine your way, to the place within that has the most stillness. A place of unmoving awareness, attention. And from that unmoving place, be aware of anything that fits the word dukkha2, suffering, stress, discomfort, unpleasantness. And gaze upon it from the stillness. Know it with the unmoving mind that is not touched, not affected by the dukkha.
Gaze upon what is unpleasant from the simplicity, the home, the sacredness of a deep, imperturbable refuge image of unmoving awareness.
Maybe stillness is like the still air when there’s no wind. The still air that permeates every area of space around you. It’s always there in the stillness of a windless day. Being aware from that still place, imperturbable.
And as we come to the end of this sitting, with the next few exhales, relax. Settle back into whatever place of calm, stillness, or sense of ease that might be here.
And then with your imagination, gaze upon the world kindly. Be still and gaze upon the world kindly. Be still and gaze upon the world kindly, with a heart that has the well-wishing of others close by.
May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings be peaceful. May all beings be free.
And may it be that each of us, with our inner stillness, can gaze upon others non-reactively. And in that non-reactivity, there’s room for people to feel safe, peaceful, and free in how we relate to them.
Hello and welcome to this continuing series on insight, the insight of insight meditation. Currently, we’re looking at the topic of dukkha2, the Pali3 word for suffering or stress, distress.
One of the learnings to be had through meditation, through mindfulness practice, through samadhi1 practice, is that our experience of ourselves, our experience of the world, and our experience of others is very much contingent upon the state of mind we have. If we don’t know that, then we assume that whatever way we’re experiencing the world and ourselves is how things are. But if we begin appreciating the state of our mind—how stable the mind-heart is, how concentrated it is, how calm it is, how open it is, how receptive it is, how clear the mindfulness is—we see the state of the mind has a big influence on how we know ourselves, others, and the world.
Because the state of the mind can vary quite a bit, how we understand and see the world and ourselves can vary quite a bit too. This is a radical thing to understand and very different from how most people, I believe, go about their day. Most people don’t know that there’s a huge range of states of mind in which we can live, and so we shouldn’t take as authoritative whatever state or view that we have at any given time.
The state of mind is fluid and changeable, and it becomes more so when we are a meditator. When we learn how to let go, we learn to get focused, we learn to become calm. We’re moving in between different states of mind, and we begin appreciating that whatever state of mind we are in is just the state of mind for now. The way in which we see the world becomes a little bit more like a question mark, or more like an appreciation that this also is not necessarily the absolute truth; this also is just a byproduct of the state of the mind that we have. I think the more people meditate, the more they come to a profound appreciation of the role the state of mind has in how we know and experience the world.
It’s a particular state of mind where we see the world as a dangerous place. Of course, the world is dangerous to some degree, but to constantly see it through that lens is a product of a particular state of mind. To see the world as a difficult place, a beautiful place, a place of belonging, or a place where we don’t belong. To see the world as ours or not ours. To see ourselves as a wonderful person, a difficult person, an inadequate person—all those conclusions are, in part, the product of a certain state of mind.
If we’re navigating these views about the world and only trying to readjust, fix, or solve the world and ourselves without appreciating that the very way in which we’re looking is part of the solution, part of what’s going on… then rather than changing the world, sometimes we learn to change our mind. As we learn to change our mind and go through all kinds of different states of mind, we have all kinds of different ways of seeing and experiencing ourselves and the world. Then, any particular state that we have in any given moment, we start seeing, “Well, that’s just how it is now.” This is impermanent. It’s changing. It’s not fixed. This is not necessarily the absolute, eternal truth. This is just what’s real and happening at this moment. And we learn to hold it lightly. We learn not to make grand conclusions. We learn how not to fall into the delusion of permanence, thinking, “It’s always going to be this way.”
Even to this day, I fall into little states of permanence, almost subconsciously thinking sometimes, “Oh, this is how it is, and I just have to figure it out or cope with it.” This happens particularly when I have a lot of things I have to do; I feel a little bit harried or the pressure of my to-do list. At some point, when I feel it’s strong enough, I’ve learned to just stop and sit and meditate for a few minutes. My state of mind quiets, and I realize that the state of mind was one that had pressure in it, anxiety, or responsibility in the forefront, and it had a certain authority. I thought, “This is how it is.” But when I sit and meditate, the tension of responsibility, the tension of the to-do list or wanting to finish or anxiety dissipates, and now I see things in a very different way. This means that the more I am aware of this, the freer I can be and the easier it is to move between states.
This is a long introduction to point out that how we see suffering, how we experience it, how we interpret it, and our relationship to it has a lot to do with the state of mind that we have. If we only have one state of mind that we know and we’re trying to address suffering, it might be like a bird pecking on a window; it’s never going to get in, but it doesn’t know any better.
So sometimes, what we want to do is not try to solve the problem in the state of mind in which the problem has appeared. Sometimes we want to change our state of mind, our state of heart, by becoming calmer, more centered, and more settled, to develop a clear sense of present-moment awareness where that awareness is not caught in the grip of our preoccupations and concerns.
As we begin to have this fluidity, as we meditate, there comes a time when the state of mind is characterized by being very still, imperturbable, and non-reactive. The state of mind is spacious, open, and receptive. The state of mind is equanimous, steady, and sometimes feels very broad. It feels like the awareness maybe expands way beyond the boundaries of the body. Or maybe it feels like there’s a quiet, still place deep, deep inside that’s the refuge, that’s the home. We’re not turning away from anything; we’re not avoiding anything. We’re quite available for whatever shows up, but we’re available from this quiet, peaceful place.
When I was younger, I lived for a while with my great-grandmother. She lived in a small little apartment in a three-story apartment building, and I had a little room on the side. She doesn’t seem so old now that I’m so old, but back then she was in her 80s. She would sit in her chair, maybe a soft rocking chair, with a blanket over her knees. I would go visit her in her small living room, which was filled with little white lace that she had crocheted on the tables and different places. We wouldn’t talk very much; we would just sit in silence together. She’d be very still and quiet, but it was so comforting to be with her. I felt like this was peace, this was love, this was wonderful, just to be with her and accompany her, and for her to accompany me. She went through a lot of challenges in her life, and for her to come to this place of peace and quiet, I think, was a refuge for her too, and it was certainly a refuge for me.
So, to find that place deep inside ourselves, to be able to let go of the ordinary states of mind that we’re sometimes attached to in ways we don’t even realize, to let all the tension in the mind dissipate and quiet down, and come to a place where we can gaze upon our suffering quietly. Gaze upon suffering peacefully. Gaze upon suffering without being for and against it, without trying to fix it, without defining ourselves by it, without being the victim of suffering. We gaze upon it with this stillness, as an imperturbable, unmoving kind of awareness that maybe is everywhere at the same time or at the center of all things.
The shifting of states of mind allows us to come to a place where we know that we can be aware of anything at all and not be affected by it, not be troubled by it. In relationship to suffering, to suffer but not be troubled by it. To feel stress, feel discomfort, and not be preoccupied or caught in it, but to be our own great-grandmother—just peacefully quiet, present, available, seeing, knowing, not shutting anything out, but knowing from an imperturbable place, a non-reactive place, a profound stillness within.
This isn’t easy to do. But as we go through the practice of samadhi, the practices of insight, we’re going through different states of mind. At some point, we start feeling, sensing, intuiting this place of profound stillness that has space to let everything be just as it is. Nothing has to change, but we’re aware of it in a still way. In relationship to suffering, we know suffering, but we’re not troubled by suffering. We know suffering, but we don’t suffer because we’re suffering. We just know the discomfort as discomfort, the stress as stress, the tension as tension. And it’s not anything that needs to be fixed or solved because, in that place of stillness, in a certain kind of way, there are no problems. It’s just what is here.
This is not the absolute state. This is not the final conclusion. This is not how it’s supposed to be, what I’m talking about today. But it’s one particular state of mind that we can tap into. As a dharma teacher, when I’m supporting other people in practice, I’m less interested in the state of mind that people attain or have than I am in the fluidity, the ease by which people can move between different states of mind. That’s where the freedom is.
As we become more free and relaxed and can move freely between states of mind, then at some point, this idea of the unmoving, imperturbable, still, equanimous mind becomes highlighted, and it becomes a game-changer to be able to understand suffering in this very free way, where we’re not defined by it or troubled by it. Then that might carry over into our ordinary states of mind, where we begin to see how contingent and unnecessary our reactivity is, and we can learn to leave suffering alone and be free.
So I hope this makes sense, and I hope it doesn’t trouble you. The idea is to support you to be untroubled through all this, and we’ll continue this adventure tomorrow. Thank you.
Samadhi: A state of meditative consciousness. It is a meditative absorption or trance, achieved by the practice of dhyāna. ↩ ↩2
Dukkha: A Pali word often translated as “suffering,” “stress,” or “unsatisfactoriness.” It is a central concept in Buddhism. ↩ ↩2
Pali: An Indo-Aryan liturgical language native to the Indian subcontinent. It is widely studied because it is the language of the Pāli Canon, or Tipiṭaka, and is the sacred language of Theravāda Buddhism. ↩