Ville

I have to start with saying how happy I am right now for finding my way to the path of Dhamma.

Dhamma (or Dharma) is the Buddha’s teachings about the universal law of reality and the practical path to happiness and freedom from suffering.

For all our lives, we want to know how the external world works as we observe and construct the outside world through psychology, sociology, biology, chemistry and physics. Could we understand the world better, we could eradicate suffering and make it better for all.

But we rarely look inside to see how our minds actually work, how the mind-matter interaction works. Somehow we have left this to the neuroscientists, the contemporary priests of our time touting philosophical materialism. This has the consequence of neglecting how to study the mind within the mind, instead of through material substance.

We blame everyone else for our suffering: It is this dictator or that politician, it is my neighbour, my colleague, my family. No, no, no. It is “me”. The suffering is within us. (But don’t trust me, trust yourself, and see it for yourself through Vipassana. But for now, carry on reading.)

Things become clearer and clearer as your mind becomes sharper and more vivid. You become sensitive to your body and no longer say “I think” but “I feel.” You stop imposing your opinions on others because you understand that’s not what people take. Thoughts and thinking are part of the problem.

Vipassana is not sitting with thoughts. It is not contemplation or introspection. It is seeing the world as it is, not how you want it to be.

Life follows the universal law of nature, Dhamma. If you don’t follow it, you suffer there and then.

It is now clear to me how the mind works, though there’s still much depth to explore. I am excited.

Why do we lose our way? As children, we were sensitive and cried to express our sadness, but society teaches us to suppress this.

I think that society programs us to work, become cogs in the machine of competition and consumption. Take antidepressants, keep working, and worship the God of Money. Let’s make GDP grow, as if GDP measures happiness. Ridiculous.

Religion told us this long ago. God exists in all of us. This also means hell is already here not there. Unfortunately, those who cause the most harm in the world are often the most miserable people.

Christianity teaches that God punishes you when you don’t follow Him. I believe, with great accuracy, that all religions claim something similar. That’s why they exist. That’s what the prophets knew and tried to tell us through scriptures. We have just lost the way. Who knows why.

the practice

It works as follows: Sit in a relatively comfortable position, upright. Close your eyes and place your hands comfortably. Then practice Anapana, which means concentrating the mind on the area beneath the nostrils and above the upper lip. Feel the sensations there—they can be anything: tingling, lightness, dryness, itching, heaviness, numbness, subtle vibrations, contact of cloth, pain, tension, or temperature changes.

The challenge is that when your mind inevitably goes on a tangent from this focus, often toward thoughts or pain or even some pleasurable sensation, bring your attention back to the sensations, gently and softly, but persistently and ardently. It should happen without judgment and frustration. With self-compassion.

Just observe how long sensations last. This is the teaching: Anicca—impermanence, everything changes. When we don’t accept this change, we become miserable, accumulating Samskara (mental defilements) that may manifest as physical pain, tension, and even as unexplainable psychosomatic diseases.

After learning Anapana, you progress to Vipassana. This means observing sensations throughout the body. As you gently place your attention on each area of the body, sensations become more apparent. Pain often draws your attention—it’s uncomfortable, but you must keep moving. This is how the mind is conditioned to focus on pain, but we must change this habit pattern of the mind. We’re not denying the pain; we’re looking at it objectively when it is its time.

Continue this process through all parts of the body, part by part, symmetrically, then with a free flow. At first, you might not feel any distinct sensations in some areas—I initially felt nothing in my back or legs. Completely empty and blind. But as you continue practicing Vipassana from head to toe and back, the sensations become more distinct.

The body-mind connection strengthens.

This is the art of living (or rather, dying).

my experience

I feel like a child again. Every sensation is so raw in the body, as though I am just getting to know myself again. Certainly all the pain and all the pleasure is very vivid and honest. My face feels vulnerable and naked. I sense my wrinkles, teeth pulsating, the air between my toes, and my right side of the body as heavier and hotter and my left side cooler and lighter. I sense a subtle whirlwind in my mouth and on my tongue as I exhale through my nose. Time seems to have slowed down for me, and the days are longer as they were when I was a kid.

It is as though I have removed filters from my lived experience. Once upon a time when I quit coffee temporarily, I remember the shift in my consciousness as everything became more sharper. It is as though one drops any medication or intoxicant and sees a shift in reality. This is why people use tobacco and weed in some sense; their sensations and perceptions of the world get enhanced and more vivid. It is more than pleasure-seeking; it is reality-seeking from a phenomenological point of view.

As I’ve experienced a deeper awareness of my body, sensations, and thought patterns, I’ve realised there’s more to reality than appears on the surface. Buddha taught this, and he was right. He also taught about the dissolution of the body as you continue this practice over time. He said Anicca—everything changes.

Your body changes, we age, the world changes, and even electrons are in constant motion. We know this. You have heard this from others and books. But now this becomes apparent through direct experience.

This is true at the level of bodily sensations as well. You understand reality through your own experience. Rationalism alone is insufficient; you need direct experimentation with your own mind, empiricism.

As you become more aware of sensations and their impermanent nature, you understand Anicca. Your pain isn’t permanent, but you must remain open and non-judgmental about it. This is what Vipassana teaches. It changes your mind without requiring intellectual understanding. However, it requires Sila (morality) and confidence. You must believe it works—nothing in life works if you don’t believe in it.

As Anicca becomes clearer, so does equanimity. Equanimous mind means a balanced mind, free from aversion and craving. During one hour of meditation with Adhiṭṭhāna, the strong resolution to not move a millimeter, I had only two thoughts.

Read again: only two thoughts. Peace of mind, quiet mind, equanimity.

It was both nice and uncomfortable—I was bored having so few thoughts and felt intense pain on my right leg and back, but I didn’t suffer from it. In the midst of pain, I suffered from boredom. Funny. I was craving for something different, as the assitant teacher pointed out.

This experience was illuminating. Those two thoughts were the result of deep Samkaras, mental defilements I had created for a long time, related to my pornography addiction lasting more than a decade. Equanimity means you’re no longer obsessively drawn to thoughts or sensations, whether negative or comfortable.

Buddha said that with long practice, understanding of the ego becomes clearer. The ego is also changing—there is no static self. Buddha also spoke of past lives as well as Karma, which I haven’t yet experienced directly as I continue on the path of Dhamma. I am absurdly curious to experience that in my life.

I have also heard of stories where people can stay happily conscious while sleeping and waking up refreshed. Once a woman told me how she inquired her unconscious mind with a question, “Show me non-duality”. Her face was illuminating as she explained her mindblowing experience.

I’m grateful to have found Dhamma.

Before my first retreat, I lived a busy, intellectual life. Now I feel drawn to a peaceful life in the countryside, enjoying simple pleasures without drugs or parties.

Before my first retreat, I had immense chest pain from grief and sadness after experiencing five romantic breakups within two years. Psychotherapy has helped a little to untangle these knots, but not completely set me free at the root level.

Before and after my second retreat, I learned to let go—to release my thoughts and focus on the present through Vipassana. While my chest pain of grief vanished, I had a constant throat pain, as if someone was still strangling me.

The third retreat helped. Gradually, the suffocation vanished. I learned to breathe, to strengthen my mind-body connection, to find peace of mind, and to sit with pain and observe it with curiosity. I experienced reality as it is; and it is change. Incredible I tell you. Life-changing.

However, I went with expectations of happiness, but was irritated. When I finally accepted this reality instead of fighting it, natural happiness emerged.

This is what Dhamma teaches: accept reality as it is, not as you wish it to be. Again and again, I get to experience this as life reminds me about it. I am grateful for seeing the pattern now.

To notice this, you must observe your craving and aversion—subtle patterns that are difficult to see at first glance. Through Vipassana and equanimity, you recognise these patterns and address the root cause of suffering.

Aversion and craving are what is taught by Buddha, but in psychobiological terms you could think aversion as negative reinforcement and defensive reaction; and for craving as positive reinforcement and reward seeking. Wants and dislikes. All the same. They are the building blocks of life organisms for the most simplest life forms to the most complex. It underpins all our behaviour.

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Every meditation is different. Each retreat, each day, each hour, each minute differs from the others, down to the present moment where everything is realised. It is like reading a book or watching a movie a second time: there is always something new to discover. 

On the tenth day of my third retreat, I remained somewhat isolated and irritated despite my throat pain having subsided. The final lesson of the retreat teaches Metta, loving-kindness, sharing one’s merits of love, compassion and goodwill.

As I practiced this, my whole body shivered from bottom to top, producing lightness and pleasure. I listened to Goenka’s loving chanting, and it made me shed tears of joy.

The last day was filled with happy faces as everyone prepared to return home with their new experiences and directions. People were jumping with optimism, running, chattering with excitement despite being tired and exhausted from little sleep.

People often compare experiences, and many cannot comprehend what has happened or why more people don’t know about this practice. Everyone wants to share it with friends and family. I’ve tried but often encounter dismissal or discomfort.

We cannot change anyone—we must be the change we wish to see in the world, as the cliché goes. Often, parents are harder to convince than children, yet even children must be allowed their own journey. This is what Siddharta Gautama, who became Buddha, experienced in Hermann Hesse’s story. Siddharta had to let his son go, and find his own way to Dhamma. It cannot be forced.

We cannot control all the conditions of our lives, such as our family, where we are born, or decide whether someone close to us should leave us.

However, we do have control of ourselves. This means that it is up to us how we take care of our bodies, and what kind of internal dialogue we have. We can choose how we behave toward others, and we can decide how we react in some moments, and what we do after some deliberation.

If you think I am turning into a Buddhist, you have understood me wrong! This is not joining into a cult or turning from one sect to another. This is about accepting the law of nature, as fundamental as gravitation. It is as though seeing the world through not Copernicus but Einstein and perhaps Hawking. Buddha doesn’t want you to become a Buddhist: this is not his teaching. 

I hope this post inspires you to take the first step toward understanding reality as it is, on the path of Dhamma, not as society or your ego has convinced you it is. Reality is deeper and more subtle than we imagine—it is immensely beautiful, full of love and compassion. We contain both heaven and hell within us, depending on which we choose to follow.

The best part is: you don’t need to believe me.

As the joke goes, “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.” You need to try and see for yourself. Visit dhamma.org and experience it firsthand.

Ironically, this intellectual blog post cannot penetrate your mind as deeply as your own experience, undertaken by your own curiosity.

It iiiis what it iiiis, as Buddha said. 🙂