A Mindful Balance, by Alan Wallace

What did the Buddha really mean by “mindfulness”? B. Alan Wallace describes the implications for your practice of an incorrect understanding of the term. Article translated by Casa Virupa from Tricycle.

The Buddhist scholar and teacher B. Alan Wallace is a prolific author and translator of Buddhist texts. Graduating in Physics and the Philosophy of Science from Amherst College and holding a PhD in Religious Studies from Stanford University, he devotes much of his time to combining his interests in the study of Buddhist philosophical and contemplative traditions and their relationship with modern science.

Wallace is the founder and president of the Santa Barbara Institute for Consciousness Studies, in Santa Barbara, California. Here he talks to Tricycle in depth about what he considers an essential yet widely misunderstood Buddhist practice: mindfulness meditation. Wallace argues that our misunderstanding of this practice has profound implications for our meditation practice and could lead us away from the ultimate fruit of Buddhist practice: liberation from suffering and its underlying causes. This interview was conducted by email over several months in 2007.

Over the last few months you have been in dialogue with many Buddhist teachers about mindfulness. What led you to focus on this topic? For years I have been puzzled by the discrepancies between the descriptions of mindfulness offered, on the one hand, by many modern Vipassana teachers and the psychologists who draw on them, and, on the other, the definitions of mindfulness found in the traditional Theravada and Mahayana Buddhist literature. When I first noticed this discrepancy some thirty years ago, I thought it might be due to differences between Theravada and Mahayana Buddhism. But the more I investigated, the more I saw that the traditional Theravada and Mahayana sources are, to a large extent, in agreement with each other, and that it was the modern explanations of mindfulness that departed from both traditions.

In what ways do the modern explanations differ? Although mindfulness (sati) is often equated with bare attention, my conversations with (and recent studies of the works of) the scholar monks Bhikkhu Bodhi and Bhikkhu Analayo, and Rupert Gethin, president of the Pali Text Society, led me to conclude that bare attention corresponds much more closely to the Pali term manasikara, which is commonly translated as “attention” or “mental engagement”. This word refers to the first fractions of a second of the simple perception of an object, before it begins to be recognised, identified and conceptualised, and in the Buddhist texts it is not considered a positive mental factor. It is ethically neutral. The primary meaning of sati, on the other hand, is remembering, non-forgetting. This includes retrospective memory of things from the past, remembering to do something potentially in the future, and a present-centred remembering in the sense of maintaining unwavering attention to present reality. The opposite of mindfulness is forgetfulness, so mindfulness applied to the breath, for example, involves continuous, unwavering attention to the breath. Mindfulness can be used to sustain bare attention (manasikara), but no traditional Buddhist source equates mindfulness with such attention.

Did the Buddha ever explain the term manasikara in his instructions on mindfulness? Not that I know of. The term appears most prominently in treatises on Buddhist psychology based on the Abhidhamma. In the Buddha's practical instructions on both samatha (calm abiding meditation) and vipassana (insight meditation), the terms sati and sampajanna are the ones that appear most often. Sampajanna is usually translated from Pali as “clear comprehension”, but this kind of awareness always has a reflexive quality: it always involves observing the state of our body or mind, sometimes in relation to our surroundings. For this reason, I prefer to translate sampajanna as “introspection”, which here involves discerning observation not only of our mind, but also of our physical and verbal activities.

What are some of the drawbacks of seeing meditation merely as a process of bare attention? When mindfulness is equated with bare attention, it can easily lead us to the mistaken idea that cultivating mindfulness has nothing to do with ethics or with cultivating healthy mental states and diminishing unhealthy ones. Nothing could be further from the truth. In the Pali Abhidhamma, where mindfulness is named as a positive mental factor, it is not described as bare attention, but as a mental factor that clearly distinguishes healthy and unhealthy mental states and behaviours.

So, what is the role of bare attention? The cultivation of bare attention is valuable in many ways, and research into its benefits for psychological and physiological disorders is growing rapidly. But it is mistaken to equate this with mindfulness, and an even greater error to believe that this is all there is to vipassana. If that were the case, all the Buddha's teachings on ethics, samadhi (highly concentrated attention) and wisdom would be irrelevant. Too often, people who assume that bare attention is all there is to meditation regard the rest of Buddhism as empty talk. They discard the essential teachings in favour of their own preconceptions.

It is often claimed that bare awareness will automatically prevent unwholesome thoughts from arising. Is there any basis for this interpretation in the texts?

Bare awareness, as the calm, non-reactive awareness of our meditative object, plays a crucial role in the practice of samatha, which alleviates afflicted mental states such as craving, aversion, dullness, agitation and doubt. There are also many references in the Buddhist texts to people who attained a profound and liberating understanding through what appears to be bare attention. Perhaps the best-known case is that of the ascetic Bahiya. After becoming a highly accomplished contemplative, he realised that he had still not attained liberation, so he sought the guidance of the Buddha, who told him: “In reference to what is seen, there will be only what is seen. In reference to what is heard, only what is heard. In reference to what is sensed, only what is sensed. In reference to what is cognised, only what is cognised. This is how you should train.” And Bahiya immediately attained liberation.

We could easily conclude from this that bare attention is all that is needed in insight meditation. But we must remember that Bahiya's case was exceptional. He had already reached a very high level of spiritual maturity before meeting the Buddha, so these essential instructions were all he needed to fully purify his mind of mental afflictions. For the rest of us, the rich diversity of theories and practices in Buddhism can be a great help. Bare awareness can play an important role in this and, at times, can effectively prevent unwholesome thoughts from arising. But if we focus solely on bare attention, it can also prevent wholesome thoughts from arising! For example, the meditations for cultivating the four immeasurable qualities of loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity are practised with mindfulness, not with bare attention. Bare attention is not a complete practice, and while it can be helpful in itself, it can also be very limiting.

Do the different definitions of mindfulness have any practical relevance? Or is it simply a matter of semantics? It is much more than a matter of semantics. In commonly used English, the term mindfulness simply means being conscious or attentive. Sati has a much richer connotation, so those who wish to practise Buddhist meditation are strongly advised to gain as clear an understanding as possible of this and other related terms, based on the most reliable sources they can find. Otherwise, Buddhist meditation quickly becomes a kind of “being here now” mentality, in which the extraordinary depth and richness of the Buddhist meditative traditions is lost.

Would standardising the meaning of mindfulness help? Out of respect for the integrity of each tradition, it would be a mistake to force them all into the same mould. It is important to be sensitive to the differences between the various schools. But insofar as the discourses attributed to the Buddha and the principal commentaries agree on the meaning of mindfulness, Buddhists of all schools should acknowledge it.

In his classic fifth-century work The Path of Purification, Buddhaghosa, the most learned commentator of the Theravada tradition, begins his explanation of this subject by pointing out that it is through mindfulness that we are able to remember things or events from the past, which reflects the Buddha's definition of this term. Its characteristic, writes Buddhaghosa, is “non-floating”, in the sense that the mind is held very closely on the chosen object of attention. Its function is “non-forgetting”, indicating that mindfulness allows us to maintain our attention without forgetting. Its manifestation is “guarding” or standing “face to face with the object”, which implies that “the rope of mindfulness” holds attention firmly to its chosen object, whether a single, relatively stable object or a continuum of interrelated events. Its basis is “strong awareness”, which suggests that its discerning quality, which is crucial when we practise satipatthana closely (the Four Foundations of Mindfulness): mindfulness of the body, of feelings, of thoughts and of other phenomena. As Buddhaghosa says, this mindfulness should be seen as a post fixed in its object and as a guardian who protects the doors of perception. On the basis of this classic and authoritative explanation, we can easily see why mindfulness is essential for samatha and vipassana in particular, and for spiritual practice in general. Traditionally, samatha is the main method for cultivating mindfulness, whereas in the practice of vipassana mindfulness and wisdom (panna) are applied to the body, the mind, feelings and other phenomena.

In its psychological role as recollection, sati is an ordinary mental faculty that we use in everyday life. Some of the exercises of satipatthana, such as contemplating the anatomical parts of the body, cannot be done with bare attention (for example, in the way satipatthana is used in the practice of mentally scanning bodily sensations). In all cases, the mindfulness cultivated in spiritual practice is applied with discerning intelligence, often observing phenomena within the contexts of Buddhist categories such as the five aggregates. This is evident in the Buddha's primary discourse on satipatthana, which goes far beyond bare attention.

What is the difference between mindfulness and right mindfulness? Is there such a thing as wrong mindfulness? A sniper hidden in the grass, waiting to shoot his enemy, might be silently aware of whatever arises in each moment. But since he is determined to kill, he is practising wrong mindfulness. What he is practising, in fact, is bare attention without an ethical component. Generally speaking, right mindfulness has to be integrated with sampajanna (again, introspection implies clear comprehension), and it is only when these two work together that right mindfulness can fulfil its purpose. In particular, in the practice of the Four Applications of Mindfulness, right mindfulness must occur within the context of the full Noble Eightfold Path: for example, it must be guided by right view, motivated by right intention, grounded in ethics and cultivated in conjunction with right effort. Without right view or right intention, we might be practising bare attention without it ever becoming right mindfulness. Therefore, bare attention does not capture the full meaning of vipassana, but represents only the initial phase in the meditative development of right mindfulness.

There is a tendency in certain circles to favour the practice of vipassana over the practice of samatha. Can you say something about this? The term samatha, translated as "calm" or "meditative quiescence", refers to the broad range of practices whose purpose is to attain samadhi, or highly focused attention or one-pointed concentration. Both mindfulness and introspection are integral parts of all samatha practices, and the concentrated awareness achieved through such a practice can be applied to any kind of object, large or small, simple or complex, relatively stable or changing. Numerous contemporary Buddhist schools ignore or, at best, marginalise the practice of samatha, whether Zen, Theravada or Tibetan Buddhism. By emphasising "sudden enlightenment", the Zen tradition does not teach samatha as a separate practice. Rather, it is incorporated into the practice of zazen "just sitting" and into meditations on koans. This same tendency has recently spread to the modern vipassana tradition, which downplays the emphasis on samatha. Yet in the traditional Theravada and Mahayana literature, the practices of samatha play a central role in the familiar triad of ethics, mental balance (the broad meaning of samadhi) and wisdom. Moreover, the variety of Buddhist practices taught under the category of samadhi covers much more than simply the development of one-pointed concentration. These practices aim at cultivating exceptional states of mental health and balance, and all meditations of insight are best practised on that foundation. Without mindfulness, mental balance cannot be developed. And without the stability and intensity of attention achieved through the practice of samatha, Buddhist practices of wisdom are bound to be disabled by mental agitation, boredom and other obstacles. Ethics and mental balance support one another, just as samatha and vipassana do.

Mindfulness as a practice is usually associated with the Theravada tradition. What role does it play in Vajrayana practice? Mindfulness, being the faculty of sustaining continuous attention on a chosen object, is indispensable to every type of meditation. In the many visualisation exercises included in Vajrayana meditations, mindfulness allows us to hold that visualisation with stability and clarity. Vajrayana also includes the Mahamudra and Dzogchen meditations, and here again a strong emphasis is placed on stable, luminous and non-reactive attention, just as in Zen. But the foundation for these practices of wisdom remains the development of mental balance, which includes calm and vivid attention.

In authentic Mahamudra practice, for example, one first trains in the basic teachings of the Four Noble Truths (see here: the first and second noble truth, the third and fourth noble truth), including the practices of ethics, mental balance and wisdom. Then one ventures into the Mahayana teachings, especially those on the ideal of the Bodhisattva, the explanations of the "Perfection of Wisdom" regarding emptiness and dependent origination, and buddha-nature. On that basis, one is initiated into Vajrayana Buddhism, which has its own unique practices for transmuting our body, speech and mind into the body, speech and mind of a buddha. Finally, one trains in the view, meditation and way of life specific to the Mahamudra tradition. Meditation involves a kind of radical "non-doing", in which one rests in unstructured awareness, releasing clinging to all kinds of sensory appearances, memories and thoughts. As a result of this practice, all experiences gradually arise as aids to one's spiritual awakening, and eventually all phenomena are perceived as pure expressions of primordial awareness, or buddha-nature.

The first phase of Dzogchen meditation, known as the "achievement", is very similar to Mahamudra, and at first glance they might seem identical to the bare attention practised in the modern vipassana tradition and in Zen. But as we have observed, in the debate about right mindfulness, the context of our practice is crucial, and methods that appear the same on the surface may have profound underlying differences. For example, it was traditional for Zen monks to generally train in ethics and to study the great treatises of their tradition for years before devoting themselves single-pointedly to meditation. The same is often true in Theravada and Tibetan Buddhism. Each of these traditions presents meditation practice within the context of its own worldview, deeply grounded in Buddhist understanding.

What are some of the distinguishing features of the Mahayana and Vajrayana worldviews that make their use of mindfulness different from that of the Theravada tradition? Right mindfulness arises only in the context of right view and right intention, and each of these schools of Buddhism has its own particular interpretation of those last two elements of the Noble Eightfold Path. In Theravada Buddhism, right view centres on the three themes of impermanence, suffering and the absence of a self. Right intention is a motivation for practice based on recognising the nature and causes of suffering, and on the aspiration to achieve irreversible liberation from all the mental afflictions that lie at the root of suffering. Some contemporary vipassana teachers rarely emphasise right view or right intention, and I believe there are grounds to doubt that mindfulness practice alone results in any realisation that "transcends the world". Again, if mindfulness as it is commonly known today were all that is needed to attain liberation, then the rest of the Buddha's teachings would be unnecessary.

In Mahayana Buddhism, right mindfulness is practised together with the view of emptiness, dependent origination and buddha-nature, and with the intention of attaining perfect enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings. Without such a view and motivation, it is said that the practice of mindfulness and any related form of meditation will not lead to buddhahood. In the Vajrayana tradition, right view includes the "pure vision" of perceiving all phenomena as expressions of primordial awareness, and right intention is the altruistic motivation to attain perfect enlightenment as quickly as possible for the sake of all beings. This is the same motivation as in Mahayana practice, but with a greater sense of urgency.

In each of these cases, mindfulness has a distinct flavour, in the same way that it would if practised with a materialist worldview and a worldly motivation – that is, simply to relieve stress and find greater happiness in this life alone. When bare attention is practised within the context of a modern, materialist worldview, there is no basis for believing that it will produce the same results as when it is practised within the context of Theravada, Mahayana or Vajrayana Buddhism.

Over the course of the last century, Buddhism has undergone a kind of Protestant reformation, with the decline of monasticism and the growing popularity of meditation among lay Buddhists. It is wonderful that today so many people incorporate Buddhist meditation into their daily lives. But it is important that we do not ignore the value of dedicating years to the study and practice of meditation as our sole vocation. After all, we would not entrust our teeth to someone who had only done a series of dentistry workshops and practised for an hour or so a day, so should we not be more careful when we entrust our minds to meditation instructors who have no years of professional training in the theory and practice of meditation?

Everything depends on our view and intention regarding meditation. If what we really want is a kind of meditative therapy that helps us relieve stress, resolve personal psychological problems and lead a more balanced life, we do not need highly qualified meditation teachers. But in the case that we set ourselves higher goals – liberation from the cycle of existence and attaining perfect enlightenment – then we have to rely on those who have trained professionally for years in the theory and practice of meditation. Traditionally, monastics have played a crucial role in this respect, and I hope they will continue to do so in the future. But for that to happen, they need the support of the Buddhist laity, as they have done in the past.

With part-time Buddhists in our Western communities, is it not unlikely that we will produce enlightened teachers? If we had only part-time scientists, no branch of science would have progressed to the level of sophistication it has today. In the same way, if we had only part-time doctors and psychotherapists, we would be far worse off in terms of our physical and mental health. More broadly, imagine a world with only part-time mechanics, plumbers, farmers and teachers. If we left all the major professions in the hands of novices, modern civilisation would be immeasurably impoverished.

The path to spiritual awakening is the most challenging of all human endeavours, and it entails the most profound transformation of a human being, from a deluded and miserable creature into an enlightened sage. If we wish to produce enlightened teachers in modern society, then individuals who wish to dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to this path – whether or not they choose to take monastic ordination – should have every possible support. This would be our greatest gift to future generations.