We study and practice with the Buddha’s teaching on the five aggregates in order to take part in the liberating journey towards realizing that body, feeling, perception, intention and consciousness are impermanent, suffering and not self. I have found that the key to this breakthrough liberation has been in observing and discovering for myself how the second aggregate, vedanā or feeling, operates.
In the Buddha’s teaching on dependent origination, vedanā marks what some people call the bifurcation point, It is like a crossroad. At birth, we get issued this body and mind—with their capacity for sensory experience. Through the body and mind we see, hear, smell, taste, touch, think and feel. These experiences take place at what we call the six sense doors: the eye door, the ear door, the nose door, the tongue door, the sensing door, and the mind/heart door. And from the moment of our birth until our death there is constant contact at these physical and mental sense doors occurring at a rapid and frequent rate.
Our discussion of feeling begins here. When there is contact at one of the six sense doors, feeling occurs. We experience the feeling as: pleasant, unpleasant, or neither pleasant nor unpleasant. We say each moment of contact has a feeling tone.
If you are like me you might ask yourself, “How does feeling actually happen?”
I spent many years reading books and trying to understand how it happens in a physiological way. In the end, no matter what I studied, no matter what questions I asked, I came to one simple conclusion. “Who knows how it happens?” I don’t know how it happens, do you? It may be beyond comprehension in a cognitive way.
The point is not so much how it happens or even that it happens, but what tends to follow on the heels of feeling moments. When feeling moments occur the tendency of the unawakened mind is to proliferate around them. We have highly conditioned tendencies to respond to pleasant sensations, feelings and thoughts with a certain longing for more. And we respond to unpleasant sensations, feelings and thoughts with a certain repulsion. Seemingly automatically, we long for more good feeling and try to get away from bad feeling. And we tend not to notice, to ignore, or space out around feeling that is neither pleasant nor unpleasant.
In short, there is a strong tendency for pleasant, unpleasant and neutral feeling to escalate into the more complex, karmically weighty, and suffering states of greed, hatred and delusion. And it is because of this tendency that vedanā figures so strongly in the Buddha’s teachings about freedom from suffering.
Everything up to this point—being born, having a body and mind, having sense organs with their sense doors, even the experiences of contact and feeling themselves—are conditions which have been set in place. There is nothing to be done about any of these. They are results, the outcome of past actions. However, the Buddha tells us in no uncertain terms that while there is a strong, conditioned tendency for good feeling to escalate into greed and for bad feeling to escalate into hatred or anger, we have the capacity either to go in the direction of our conditioning or not.
This capacity to choose, if you will, constitutes the crossroads, the bifurcation point. This means that greed, hatred and delusion are not fore-ordained. This is important because it points to a potential for freedom. In and of themselves these three are suffering states. And they cause us to act in ways that bring about even more suffering. If we can become aware of vedanā, feeling, and have a direct experience of it—we can short-circuit the tendency to move into these states that lead to suffering, these states that are our suffering.
When we put a drop of sugar in the corner of the dish all the little amoeba scrambled towards the sugar. Then we put a drop of vinegar in another petri dish of amoeba and the colony scrambled in the opposite direction. I am made of the same stuff.
Buddha says, “Don’t go there”
Well, great. That’s all well and good. But that is quite a mouthful, isn’t it? Look at what we are saying here.
I am reminded of my junior year in high school—biology class. We put these little amoeba in petri dishes and observed their behaviors under our microscopes. When we put a drop of sugar in the corner of the dish all the little amoeba scrambled towards the sugar. Then we put a drop of vinegar in another petri dish of amoeba and the colony scrambled in the opposite direction. The significance of this laboratory experiment so many years ago escaped me until I began observing the tendencies of my own body and mind. I found that I am highly conditioned to behave in the same way as those cute little amoebae. I am made of the same biological stuff. This tendency to seek pleasure and avoid pain is deeply, deeply rooted in me—so highly conditioned, as to be instinctive. Everything in our being at a seemingly cellular level moves us in the direction of more pleasure and less pain. Can you feel that? And the Buddha is inviting us to look at this, to learn from it.
One year I did a solitary retreat in the early spring of the year. The seasons were changing, and as a result the temperature in the room kept changing. I couldn’t seem to regulate the thermostat such that it would keep the temperature relatively constant. As a consequence, I found I had to keep putting on blankets and socks and then taking them off again. This happened many times over a period of weeks. At one point when I was several weeks into the retreat I was getting quite childlike in my reactions. The usual defenses and niceties were gone. It was in such a state that I again felt the heat in my body—and quite automatically and violently I yanked off the blanket, tore off my socks and threw them across the room. I threw a tantrum! I was so tired of being uncomfortable, of not being able to control the good and bad feeling associated with the temperature of the room, that I became very angry and actually threw a tantrum!
This reaction really got my attention. I realized that this impulse to seek comfort and avoid pain goes very deep—deeper than a simple wish to feel good. We want to survive and that takes constant effort. I felt fatigued by it. I was sick and tired of being tossed about by it. But with this insight, I was able to surrender to the discomfort of too much or too little heat and learn to be with it.
The Buddha’s teaching on liberation is inviting us to tune into our experience right at such points, to examine and see for ourselves how easily we move into the states of greed, hatred and delusion and how opening to the direct experience of vedanā, feeling, holds the key to short-circuiting that process.
No, the teachings are far more subtle and significant than that. Buddha is trying to point us in the direction that self observation takes us—that is, to liberating insight. He wants us to see for ourselves the truth of suffering, impermanence and selflessness. There is suffering. And no matter how good we may feel in any moment, that good feeling will end. Everything born of the body and mind follows the laws of nature. It is not self. As meditators, we can see these truths directly by opening to feeling.
Liberating insights
Do you see what we are saying here? If we are not following the tendency to go towards pleasant feeling and away from unpleasant feelings we are left with the hard, cold reality that pain and discomfort are our constant companions and that pleasure doesn’t last. We don’t take kindly to that reality. Of course we want more pleasure. Of course we want less pain. Is Buddha suggesting that we don’t seek that? People can get very confused around this.
Buddha is not suggesting that we take the attitude that “life’s a pain and pleasure doesn’t last so what’s the use?” If you follow that dismal line of thinking, you just want to commit suicide.
No, the teachings are far more subtle and significant than that. Buddha is trying to point us in the direction that self observation takes us—that is, to liberating insight. He wants us to see for ourselves the truth of suffering, impermanence and selflessness. There is suffering. And no matter how good we may feel in any moment, that good feeling will end. Everything born of the body and mind follows the laws of nature. It is not self. As meditators, we can see these truths directly by opening to feeling.
Buddha is trying to point us in the direction that self observation takes us—that is, to liberating insight.
Seeing the truth of suffering
One summer I was house-sitting and animal-sitting for my friend Patty. Actually it was the first time I had done this for her. We were new friends and she asked me to stay at her home and watch her cat Cobbie for the weekend while she was away. Everything went fine the first day. On the second morning I couldn’t find Cobbie. I looked around but she was nowhere in sight. I have to say that I didn’t really worry, because Patty had told me that sometimes Cobbie stays out all night but finds her way home later in the day.
Well, Patty came home early and approached me with tears in her eyes. As she neared the driveway she saw Cobbie dead in the street. “Oh my God!” I said. And I went over and over my actions asking myself if I had been negligent, if I had been unconcerned, if I had understood Patty’s instructions correctly. I asked myself, “What did I do wrong? How could Cobbie have died?” In my mind I kept reviewing the events of the two days trying to figure out what I had done wrong. This is fine to do once, but I was obsessing. Patty was doing the same kind of thing. Had she instructed me correctly? Was it her fault that Cobbie had died?
Suddenly we caught each other’s eye and simultaneously realized what we were doing. We both just cried, “Cobbie’s dead!” Our hearts knew the simple truth. But our minds resisted the pain of that truth and kept trying to find things to go to—doing everything they could do to avoid feeling the pain of suffering and death. It was as if we thought we could have done something to prevent the truth of death. When we realized what we were doing, that was it. That was the end of it. Patty and I opened to the pain of losing Cobbie instead of moving away from it.
Until we meditate, until we understand that we can’t get away from what is happening in this moment, until we see directly that it is better to be with what is happening than to avoid it, until we train the mind to be with life in this way, we will tend to avoid direct contact with painful moments like this and miss the liberating insights that are our freedom.
We become wise when we stop trying to manipulate the world. It is an irritating place sometimes; sometimes it is wonderful. Seeing that is wisdom.
Seeing the truth of impermanence
I spent the better part of two years meditating at IMS, and during that time I became quite attached to a certain cup and bowl. Every time I approached the rack of dishes I looked for my favorite cup and bowl. Whenever they were there, I would get really excited. One day I arrived at the rack of dishes in the dining hall and noticed that my favorite cup and bowl were right on top. And there were nice fresh, clean napkins, too. As I approached the food line thinking things couldn’t get any better, I discovered that the cooks had prepared my favorite dish—a potato and basil and Parmesan cheese casserole. And somebody had baked fresh bread, and there was plenty of it!
By now I was giddy with delight. I was thinking how nice it was and how I wish it could be like this all the time. Then I took my place at one of my favorite tables and began to enjoy my treasures—only to discover that the woman I sat next to made disgusting noises when she ate! It made me sick to my stomach. I sat there over my favorite bowl, eating my favorite food, wiping my tears and blowing my nose with my nice clean napkin. Sometimes the lessons of practice hit hard!
We can take comfort in the realization that while there is no guarantee that good feelings will happen or will last, it is also true that they are unavoidable. This, too, is a liberating insight. Pleasure is inherent in life. If we let it happen, it happens more fully. Remember that bumper sticker from a few years back that read, ” [Poop] happens?” Well, I always thought we should have a complimentary bumper sticker that reads, “Pleasure happens.” That’s right, pleasure happens. Not only does it happen, you can’t avoid it. I find this thought very comforting, don’t you?
Did you see the film Babette’s Feast? There was a scene at the end of the movie which really brings home this point. The story involved a small, puritanical religious group which believed that pleasure was bad and should be avoided at all costs. They did everything they could to avoid the experience of pleasure. Well, Babette came along and offered to cook them a fabulous feast. Wanting to accept her generosity, they consented but then realized what they had done. They were frightened by the prospect of enjoying the meal. So they made an agreement among themselves not to comment on the pleasure so as not to indulge in it. They determined to receive Babette’s offering graciously, and try to suffer through the pleasure that it would bring.
Those of you who saw the film know what happened. The devoted members of the sect couldn’t avoid the fact that this was a most pleasant meal. While they remained true to their pact and did not comment on the food, their delight in it was unavoidable. And because they didn’t express it verbally, their pleasure overtook them in unexpected ways. As the meal progressed they found themselves delighting in each other’s company in ways that they had never felt before. They admitted transgressions, forgave past wounds, and toasted to each other’s good fortune. Pleasure was doing its magic whether they liked it or not.
See the truth of selflessness
Finally, by observing the workings of vedanā, we come to know the truth of selflessness—that pleasure and pain arise out of conditions. This was a revolutionary awakening for me. I always thought I could make pleasure happen. Of course, I can make it happen. I set everything up and it happens, right? Well, we can do things to establish conditions for the arising of pleasure, but it may or may not happen.
I am reminded of a sad story wherein the protagonist wanted to propose to a woman he loved. He arranged for a special evening, brought out his best linens, best champagne and chocolates, had the parlor arranged with flowers, wore his neatly pressed tuxedo—in short, he did everything right to create a happy moment. But the woman refused his proposal of marriage. He established all the right conditions but the pleasure he expected didn’t happen.
There is never any guarantee that pleasure will happen. We can’t make pleasure happen any more than we can avoid pain. I think this is one of the things that plays into difficulties at the holidays. Families go to great extremes to prepare for the holidays, to make them happy occasions. “Oh everyone is going to be here and we are going to have such a great time!” or, “I bought this gift for that one and that gift for this one and they are going to be so happy.” And, yet, for many people the holidays turn out to be everything but happy. We so want to make everything right! Earlier in the day one of the class members asked about the dukkha of conditionality. This is it. Pleasure and pain arise out of conditions. They are not self. That’s just the way it is.
We become wise when we stop trying to manipulate the world so that it is always pleasant or convenient, when we stop expecting to be content and comfortable at all times. This is an amazing reflection. The world is an irritating place sometimes. Sometimes it is wonderful. Seeing that is wisdom. The wise person doesn’t create a problem out of either extreme. This is the middle way.
Change happens in small ways
I was talking recently to one of the former long-term yogis from IMS. She practiced there for about nine months [when I was the resident teacher], and at nearly every interview she expressed concern that nothing was happening in her practice. I’d say, “Let me be the judge of that. More is happening than you think.” But she wouldn’t believe me. She had a lot of anger and frustration and couldn’t imagine that she could ever be free of it.
Now she has stopped intensive practice and returned home. The other day she called me and said she couldn’t believe how much things had changed. I asked her to describe the change. And it was precisely this subtle change that comes about by opening to vedanā. She said that people still irritate her but she sees the irritation and doesn’t get caught in it, so it doesn’t mushroom into a coarse state such as hatred or anger. She sees more of the feeling as it happens. Thus, she doesn’t get caught in it. And when she does, she quickly finds her way out. That was huge for her. She has had difficulty with certain family members, and the idea that she could begin to embrace them was the furthest thing from her mind prior to meditation.
As a result of practice, I am finding it easier to let things be. To me this is liberation.
How can we feel compassion for people who are irritating and difficult? How can we learn to be patient with ourselves when we get lost in reactive states of mind? Well, this is how it happens. We open to the unpleasantness of a moment’s experience and let it be the way it is. Then it is free to end, free to die.
Recently, when I was buying a computer I found myself getting irritated with the salesman who waited on me. He did and said a couple of things that I found abrasive and offensive. A few years ago I would have canceled my order and gone to another store. But this time I didn’t. I just let the moment be imperfect and let my distaste for it be. I was very happy to see this change in myself. It was an outcome of practice. I could genuinely accept that the salesman was not being considerate. I asked myself, “So what? Can I let the imperfection of the moment be, and not make such a big deal out of it? Sometimes I’m inconsiderate. Can I forgive that?”
It used to be the case that when people crossed me or did things I didn’t like, I just wrote them off. But as a result of practice, I am finding that it is easier to let things be. To me this is liberation. I don’t think much about stages of enlightenment and ultimate liberation. To me this kind of subtle change in my reactive patterns is liberating. This is what I call liberation.
In closing, let me just remind you to be gentle. Out of ignorance we have come to value thinking too much. And we think about, censor or ignore feeling precisely because we think so much. Thus, our hearts have become closed and obstructed. We have given too much power to the head when it is meant to be a support for the work of the heart. We have to feel our way to freedom. We have to allow feeling all the space it needs and let our hearts do what they are designed to do—take us all the way to freedom.
It might interest you to know: Buddha said human birth is the most fortunate, precisely because of the mix of pleasure and pain. These occur in just the right blend here to facilitate awakening to the truth. We must trust feeling, treasure it, learn from it—open to pleasure and pain and see them as our teachers.
