9 Looking at the Mind within the Occurrence of Thought

T his morning we finished the section of this book called, “looking at the mind within stillness.” Now we turn to the second section of insight meditation practice, which is “looking at the mind within the occurrence of thought.” Since, by the time one has first arrived at the point of practicing insight meditation, one has already practiced tranquility meditation assiduously, the first technique presented in this section on insight is how to look at the mind within stillness. But if or when one is unable to gain insight through that method, the second technique, how to look at the mind within the occurrence of thought, is needed. In this book there are three ways that you are taught to look at your mind: looking at the mind within stillness; looking at the mind within the occurrence of thought; and looking at the mind within appearances.

In a shorter text on mahamudra, also by the Ninth Gyalwang Karmapa, called Pointing Out the Dharmakaya, these three and then two additional methods of insight meditation are taught: looking at whether the body and the mind are the same or different; and looking at whether stillness and occurrence are the same or different.35 Thus five methods are taught. Here only three are taught. In fact, any one of these may be sufficient for an individual to develop recognition of the mind’s nature. And if recognition of the mind’s nature is gained through any one of these methods, that is sufficient. Alternatively, you may practice any two of them, or if you wish, all three.

According to the study of cognition, as it is found in our texts, the sixth consciousness, the mental consciousness, does not actually directly experience any of the objects of the senses. The objects of the senses are, however, directly experienced by the five sense consciousnesses—although obviously each of these is limited to the experience of its particular object. So the eye consciousness does directly see forms, the ear consciousness does hear sounds, and so forth. These are direct experiences. What the mental consciousness does is to generate an image of what the eye has seen, what the ear has heard, and so on. The sixth consciousness does not and cannot experience any of the five sense objects directly. But it does generate an image. That image is a generalized abstraction, which means that it is not as clear as the actual sense experience. It is somewhat vague.

This is true of the mental consciousness’ experience of all the five senses. Based on the direct experience of these senses, the sixth consciousness generates a generalized abstraction or abstracted image of visual form, an abstracted sound or an image of physical sound, and the same thing with smells, tastes, and tactile sensations. None of these abstractions that are generated by the mental consciousness are as clear as or as well-defined as the actual experiences of the senses that they seek to replicate.

The sixth consciousness is confused. It mistakes or confuses its abstractions for the actual objects of the senses. It treats its abstractions as though they were the objects of the senses. The sixth consciousness, the mental consciousness, regards its abstractions—based on physical form—as physical form; its abstracted images of sound as actual sound, and so forth. In the context of the study of valid cognition, an image for how all of this works is given. The five sense consciousnesses are said to be like a mute person who can see. This person can see and, therefore, can experience, but not being able to speak, cannot describe or communicate anything that they experience. The sixth consciousness is said to be like a sightless person who can talk. The sixth consciousness cannot see anything, but if it does find out about something, it can talk about it all and at once. And of course, as we know, this is precisely what the sixth consciousness does. It thinks, and in thinking, it mixes things up. It treats the past as though it were the present, it treats the future as though it were the present, and in that way expects the present to be what was there in the past, and so on.

In any case, it is clear, through this analogy, that the five sense consciousnesses and the sixth consciousness have no way to communicate with one another directly. The medium of communication between the five sense consciousnesses, which, according to the analogy, cannot talk, and the sixth consciousness, which cannot see, is self-awareness. Self-awareness, which is another faculty of mind, forms the bridge or medium between the five sense consciousnesses and the sixth consciousness.

Now all of this is theoretical, but it provides a background for understanding what you are doing when you practice looking at the mind within occurrence. When you look at the mind within occurrence, you allow your mind, the sixth consciousness, to generate a thought. The first type of thought that is mentioned here is an abstraction—an abstracted or generalized image of something that is familiar to you. Suggested in the text are such things as the Jowo image of the Buddha in Lhasa, or the Tsurpu Hla Chen, another great statue of the Buddha, which was, at the time this text was written, at Tsurpu. But it could be anything. It should be something familiar to you. You could imagine your home or part of your home or something you own—for example, your automobile. When you imagine your car, the image arises more or less vividly to your mind. Look at that image. Try to determine what the relationship between the car and the mind is. Has your car entered your mind? Has your mind gone to where your car is? If you scrutinize this you will see that nothing like that is happening at all. The image, while being apparent and vivid, is utterly nonexistent.

It is not the case that it is impossible for your automobile to appear as an image in your mind; it does appear there as an image. And of course that image is a generalized abstraction. Nevertheless, when you look to see where that image of the automobile is, if you look to see if it is inside your body, or outside your body, it does not seem to be anywhere. Nor has your mind become that automobile. Nor has that automobile become your mind. While the image is present in your experience, it has no existence whatsoever. This is the unity of cognitive lucidity and emptiness in the context of the occurrence of something within your mind. By looking at images generated by your mind, you can start to recognize the emptiness of whatever occurs to or within the mind. The emptiness, however, of such an image, in no way diminishes or contradicts the vividness of appearance or presence of the image in your mind. And recognizing this in experience is the first step in recognizing the mind’s nature within occurrence.

The second practice in this section of looking at the mind within occurrence, and the thirty-ninth practice session presented in our text, is concerned with the intensity of thought. Previously, when you looked at the mind within stillness, you were looking at a mind that was tranquil, and therefore, not particularly intense. When you look at the mind within the occurrence of thought, you have the opportunity to look at it when it is very intense. Therefore, the second practice in this section concerns using those types of thoughts or occurrences within the mind that are the most intense—states of delight and misery. As we all know, sometimes our minds are filled with delight and sometimes we are miserable—we are sad, we are depressed, and we are regretful. In both cases, what characterizes the mental state and what is common to both is the intensity of what is occurring within the mind. Normally, we make a great distinction between delight and misery. When we feel really happy, we like that, and we regard states of sadness and unhappiness and feeling regretful as extremely unpleasant. But if you look at what is occurring in your mind in either case, you will see that the nature of it, the stuff of which it is made, is no different from the nature of the mind itself. And in that sense, the occurrence of either delight or misery is like the appearance of waves on the surface of an ocean. For example, when you are experiencing delight in your mind, there is certainly an experience, because you are aware of it. But when you look for its substance, its nature, its essence, you find that there is nothing there. Or, when you are intensely sad, even miserable, if you look at the nature of the sadness or misery, then you will see that, while the sadness is there as a vivid appearance, just as the mind itself has no substantial existence, in the same way, the sadness has no substantial existence.

It is very easy to understand this. It is important, however, not to jump to the conclusion that these things have no existence. You need actually to look for yourselves and find it out directly. And when you are looking, you have to look with an open mind, without anticipating what you are going to discover. However, eventually you will find that there is nothing to be found. And once the sensation or the occurrence of delight or misery has been found not to be found anywhere, it will dissolve. First, you try this with delight or happiness. You can practice when naturally experiencing a state of delight, or, if you are not naturally experiencing one, try to think of something delightful.

Then, once you have seen the nature of feelings of delight, then try it with feelings of misery and sadness. If you do not naturally have these feelings, then think of something that makes you miserable. In both cases, when you look at the occurrence, you will see that it is empty—just as the mind itself is empty. It is like a mirage or an illusion. It is like froth that is churned up on the surface of the water. Some of these emotions we experience as intolerable, such as intense regret, for example. But, when you know how to look at the nature of what occurs in your mind, you do not need to attempt to block these types of emotions, because by looking at them and seeing their nature, they will dissolve of themselves.

The first practice session of looking at the mind within occurrence was looking at the nature of a generalized abstraction arising within the sixth consciousness. The second was looking at the nature of delight and misery. The third is looking at the nature of kleshas or mental afflictions.36 For example, when something pleasant, something desirable, comes to mind, we generate craving and attachment, we generate desire. When something unpleasant, something to which we are averse, comes to mind, we generate aversion [and sometimes even anger and hatred]. Sometimes, reflecting upon our own amazing qualities or great power, we generate pride. Sometimes, reflecting upon the qualities, and so forth, of others, we generate jealousy. And sometimes we feel greed for what we possess and the need to hold on to it. All of these types of mental afflictions or kleshas are disturbing to us. So long as we look away from them when they arise and look outward at the objects that form the condition for their arising, we are overpowered by them.37 The solution is to turn inward and look directly at the klesha itself, rather than at the object with which the klesha is concerned. You turn inward and look to see where the klesha, the thought that has the content of klesha, is, what its nature is, where it came from, where it remains, and so on. You will not find any of these things. For, just like delight and misery, kleshas are empty. We have been enslaved by our kleshas for no other reason than that we have been unaware of their emptiness. The enslavement is unnecessary and will end when you experience their emptiness.

Sometimes you can overcome kleshas in this way. Sometimes you will look at the nature of a klesha and it will dissolve. And sometimes you will not be able to do so. This is not because any of these kleshas has true existence. It is because we have the strong habit of being ruled by them. If you cultivate the opposite habit, the habit of looking at their nature, as that habit through repeated cultivation is reinforced, the instances of recognition will increase and the instances of being overpowered by the klesha will decrease. It is possible to cultivate this habit for the simple reason that kleshas are empty. They have no true existence. It was for this reason that, when the Buddha taught the Heart Sutra, he said, “No form, no sensation, no perception, no mental arisings, no consciousness, no eyes, no ears,” and so on. When, by looking at the nature of a klesha, you see this in direct experience, the klesha is pacified. However, that pacification or liberation of that klesha is not permanent. That particular thought dissolves, but it will reoccur—again, not because the kleshas have true existence, but because we have the habit of allowing their reoccurrence and of entertaining them. In the sutras it is taught that the cultivation and habituation of this type of remedy forms much of the practice of the path of meditation—the idea of meditation being related to the idea of cultivation and habituation. The point is that by becoming more and more used to the remedial action of seeing the nature of kleshas, the kleshas themselves will become less and less powerful and finally will be eradicated.

There are three practice sessions in the section that is called looking at the mind within occurrence. The first was looking at the mind within arising in the sixth consciousness of a generalized abstraction; the second, looking at the mind within delight and misery; and the third, looking at the mind within the arising of kleshas or mental afflictions, such as any of the three or five poisons.38 These three practice sessions are enumerated in the text as the thirtyeighth, thirty-ninth, and fortieth practice sessions. A similar idea to looking at the mind within occurrence is found in dzogchen empowerments, in which you are often told, “Send your mind to the east. Does it go anywhere? And is there anything going there? Send your mind to the south. Does it go anywhere? And is there anything going there?,” and so on. You are instructed to send your mind out to the four directions and then to look at the experience of doing so. This is essentially the same idea as looking at the mind within occurrence.

Following these three practice sessions, and given to support these three stages of practice, are two further teaching sessions. To begin with, these are concerned with how we relate to thoughts. Usually, as meditators, we regard thoughts as something unwanted. We do not want thoughts to arise because we view them as impediments to meditation. Here, because thoughts are an opportunity to look at the mind, thoughts are not regarded as a problem. Whatever arises in the mind is treated equally. You simply look at its nature, even if it is a klesha. By looking at its nature, it is self-liberated. Even if it is intense delight or misery, it is self-liberated when its nature is seen. It does not interfere with meditation. And even the arising of an image or generalized abstraction in the mind can be self-liberated as well.

It is, therefore, of some importance that we learn not to regard thoughts as a problem, not to regard thoughts as enemies, but to regard them as supports for meditation. About this, Lord Gampopa said, “See thoughts as necessary, as valuable, as helpful, as kind, and cherish them.” The kindness of thoughts, the value of thoughts, is that they reveal our own nature, mahamudra, to us, which is a great help. Obviously, if you follow thoughts, if instead of looking at their nature you follow them, then that will impede meditation. But if you see their nature, and the thoughts are self-liberated, that is a great help. Therefore, Gampopa said, “If you know how to rest within whatever thought arises and it is therefore self-liberated, then, since that itself is the dharmakaya, they are indeed worthy of being cherished. If you do not have this attitude, if you do not regard thoughts as opportunities for insight, meditation becomes very difficult and inconvenient, because it becomes a battle against thinking, which among other things, makes the meditation unclear and unstable.” Speaking to his students, Gampopa also said, “Meditators seem to want to have no thoughts, but they cannot stop thinking, and therefore they become exhausted. However, even if a lot of thoughts are present within the mind, this is not a problem as long as you can look at and see their nature. Therefore, it is appropriate to abstain from any attempt either to get rid of or to follow thoughts.” The presentation of the reason why it is important to take thoughts on the path is the fiftieth teaching session. It is not a separate practice session, as it does not introduce a new practice. The fifty-first teaching session presents various questions that are to be posed, and the point of these questions is to ensure that the practitioner is not mistaking conceptual understanding of the nature of thoughts for actual experience of the nature of thoughts, because conceptual understanding will not weaken or eradicate mental afflictions.

I have something to say about the use of the terms “tranquility” and “insight,” or “shinay” and “lhaktong,” “shamatha” and “vipashyana.” Traditionally, mahamudra instruction and, therefore, mahamudra practices are divided into these two classifications. The distinct instruction in mahamudra always includes instruction in tranquility and instruction in insight. However, many other meditation systems use these same terms. The terms “sham atha” and “vipashyana” are used not only by most Buddhist meditation systems, but by other Indian systems, including some Hindu traditions. The reason for this is that all of these traditions at some point have used Sanskrit, and therefore the original terminology with which they speak of meditat ion tends to be very similar. Within the Buddhist tradition, the Theravadan tradition—which uses Pali, a language very similar to Sanskrit, as its scriptural language—also calls its meditation practices “shamatha” and “vipashyana.” And then we have the mahamudra practices of shamatha and vipashyana— which, as we know, were named by the mahasiddhas who codified them.

Now, do not think, just because all of these different systems call their various mediation practices by the same name, that these are in fact the same practices. They are not. The methods of shamatha and vipashyana, and therefore the results of shamatha and vipashyana in Hindu meditation systems, Theravadan meditation systems, and the mahamudra meditation system, are all different. For example, the shamatha or tranquility techniques taught here—grasping the ungrasped mind, stabilizing it once it has been grasped, and bringing progress upon stabilization—are unique to mahamudra. And also the vipashyana or insight practices of looking at the mind within stillness, looking at the mind within occurrence, and looking at the mind within appearances are also unique to mahamudra. They are different from the similarly named techniques found in Hindu systems, Theravadan systems, or in other Buddhist traditions. Of course, the nature with which we are concerned is the same, but how we look at it is very different.

In mahamudra we are concerned with the intense and precise scrutiny of the mind. The purpose and result of mahamudra meditation is that through such scrutiny we come to recognize the mind’s nature, which is dharmata, the nature of all things, and thereby to achieve all wisdom and all qualities. The purpose of mahamudra tranquility meditation is to bring about the immediate pacification of the kleshas; and that of mahamudra insight meditation is to bring about the ultimate eradication of the kleshas, through which the wisdom of the Buddha is realized. I’m going to stop there for this afternoon. Now we will meditate. [[[Rinpoche]] and students meditate and then dedicate the merit.]