[Note; Events today rendered impossible my planned ‘practical tips on mindfulness’ post. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy these reflections.]
“The theoretical construct of mindfulness and the practices informed by this notion have gone through considerable development over two and a half thousand years of Buddhist thought, making it impossible to speak of ‘Buddhist mindfulness’ as if this were a monolithic concept.” – Bhikkhu Anālayo, scholar-practitioner.
Seeking definitions is something that we overdo, I think. In the case of mindfulness, it’s certainly a difficult thing. So, remember, if I say something about mindfulness, it’s only to send you back to your own experiencing, to see how it is in there, when I say one thing or another. I am speaking of ‘mindfulness’ as I understand it, as I read it in the Pāli Nikāyas.
I do prefer that version to the usual modern secular definitions of mindfulness. Here’s a recent example, from a U.S. magazine: “it is our ability to notice what’s going on in our minds and our bodies and our surroundings, to nonjudgmentally take note of our thoughts as they arise, and allow them to dissolve.”
It’s pretty good as it goes, but I am concerned that there seems to be, in that approach, an assumption that our noticing, noting, and allowing – even if we do manage to be nonjudgmental – is imagined to be ‘meaning-free’ – that is, somehow without the mind who is mindful.
So, lately I’ve been carrying around the feeling that an acknowledgement that meaningfulness is always present might change how we see ‘mindfulness.’ Knowing, noticing, noting and allowing always have as their base some kind of meaningfulness.
Even ‘bare attention,’ a phrase popular in various schools of mindfulness – which, nevertheless, isn’t found in the Nikāyas – even this is pregnant with meaningfulness based on the attentive organism’s evolutionary history, and on one’s personal development. All that is implicit; it need not come in the usual form of conceptual elaboration.
Let’s for the sake of argument say that the meditator has mastered the art of calming practice (samatha), and that her mind is one-pointed, calm, and clear. (Traditionally this is the basis for looking more deeply, and asking the big questions about consciousness.)
Certainly, a non-conceptual grounding can come into view, in this case. It’s ‘bare’ in a sense, but even this is not free of meaningfulness. If it were, it wouldn’t be sustained by the meditator. Because, the meditator knows its value, non-conceptually or as directly felt in the body. We can say that, often, the body knows the goodness of such a state.
In respect of the above magazine definition, I assume ‘nonjudgmental’ means: not attacking oneself for the mental-emotional habits which come into view. That’s a good aspect of ‘bare attention.’ If the ‘bare attention’ idea has any merit, it probably has to do with a willingness to openly experience what arises and ceases. Superego attacks would obviously not help, with that.
So, even if one is faithful to the actuality of experience, then truly pure, direct experience may arise – true awareness – which may be described as silent, still, and clear. But what one realizes, when reflecting on that experience, was that there was a kind of meaningfulness, there, too. It’s not conceptual meaning– it’s the feeling that comes with being, the feel of suchness. Perhaps this is what Chogyam Trunpa meant by ‘basic goodness.’