SAMATHA

is an occasional publication of
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The Samatha Centre

Greenstreete
Llangunllo
Powys
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 CONTENTS
front cover
GREENSTREETE LAKE (3)
by Neal Greig, ARUA
watercolour on paper, A2

pages 1 to 10
NEURODHAMMA
The Neuroscience of Jhāna
by Paul Dennison
photo on page 1 courtesy of the author

pages 11 to 16
A FRIEND INDEED
by Charles Shaw
photo on page 11 courtesy of the author

pages 17-22
KNOWLEDGE NECESSARY
FOR HAPPINESS IN LIFE
by Ven. O.M. Candavanna
photo on page 17 courtesy of
The Alameda Center for Buddhist Meditation

pages 23 to 25
THE SALESMAN
by Bill Vennells
illustrations by Yvon Mattaar

page 26
THROUGH THE
SHRINE ROOM WINDOWS
pencil sketch by Roberta Sisson

i
 page 27
WORDS FOR A FULL MOON
Five words offered by each of twenty-one meditators
while practising at Greenstreete with Nai Boonman
assembled by Tod Olson
photo by Vijay Khuttan

pages 28 to 32
TUNING INTO THE JHĀNAS
AND THEIR QUALITIES
by Peter Harvey
photo on page 28 by Philip Groves
illustration on page 32:
LIGHT NIMITTA (detail)
by Veronica Voiels

page 33
(: SMILING :)
(anon.)
photo taken at Wat Dhammararam, Stockton, California
by Helena Fitch-Snyder

pages 34 to 39
PATHS
(anon.)
photo on page 34 courtesy of the Samatha Trust
illustration on page 38 by the author

page 40
SOMETHING AND NOTHING
by Nai Boonman
photo by Chris Morray-Jones

back cover
BUDDHA HEAD
photo taken on Whimble Hill, Greenstreete, Llangunllo, Wales
by Melissa Lever

ii
 NEURODHAMMA
The Neuroscience of Jhāna
by Paul Dennison
This article is intended to be a meditator-friendly summary of “The
Human Default Consciousness and its Disruption: Insights from an EEG
Study of Buddhist Jhāna Meditation,” a paper published in Frontiers in
Human Neuroscience (June 2019).
Initially (2010/11), the study was to satisfy my own curiosity.
However, it quickly became clear that the form of meditation we
practice profoundly affects brain activity, and from 2014 with the
acquisition of more sophisticated EEG equipment from a supplier in St
Petersburg, a more serious research project developed with far-
reaching implications for neuroscience. At first, the recordings of
Samatha meditators were very difficult to interpret. There seemed to be
no clear patterns for each of the jhānas, and individual meditators
appeared to use their brains in different ways to achieve similar subject-
ive experiences.

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 By 2016, however, it gradually dawned on me that rather than
finding a clear “signature” for a person attaining a particular jhāna, the
results made far more sense for the group of meditators as a whole, in
terms of their progressive withdrawal from what I decided to refer to as
our everyday or default sensory consciousness (DCs in the following),
and that this withdrawal is represented by distinct EEG themes.

vivicc’eva kāmehi
This is the formula repeated throughout the Suttas for developing
the first rūpa jhāna, usually translated as “secluded from sense-
desire”, which I chose to interpret as a meditator, with conscious
intent, withdrawing his/her personal involvement from their DCs,
within which we all live, day to day, from birth. There are three
themes in meditators’ EEG readings that signify this withdrawal, as
follows:

Spindles, attention and vitakka-vicāra

All of us in the eyes-closed resting state show “alpha rhythms”
(~10 Hz frequency) around the back of the head. Disruptions to this
rhythm appear in the EEG as “spindles” or wave-packet clusters as
shown in Figure 1. Spindles are well-known in neuroscience during
the approach to deep sleep, also to some extent in anaesthesia, and
in cases of attentional distraction (such as a driver attending to the
road while distracted by conversations in the car). Meditation
spindles, however, are quite different – lower frequency than the
alpha rhythm, far more prolific, and, crucially, very different in the
underlying cortical sources. (As well, of course, as the fact that medit-
ators are fully conscious.) The underlying cortical sources can be
computed by a rather beautiful algorithm called the reverse solution,
which looks at all the interactions of surface activity across the scalp
and works out what underlying brain activity, in which areas, is
responsible.
This analysis in source space shows that meditation spindles
represent disruption to two underlying cortical networks, known in
neuroscience as the dorsal and ventral attention/perception streams.
Piecing together different strands of neuroscience research against
Buddhist understandings of jhāna – in particular, the jhāna factors
vitakka and vicāra – with our EEG results, I believe the former dorsal

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stream which is concerned with encoding the content of neuronal
representations of “the world”, corresponds to the cognitive activity of
vitakka; whereas the ventral stream, which establishes context and
salience, corresponds to the more feeling-based salience aspects of
vicāra. Interestingly, in the less well-known model of five jhānas, vitakka
is mastered in the first rūpa jhāna, and vicāra in the second.

Figure 1. An example of spindles

The upper traces (labelled left) are at the front of the head, and the bottom at the
back of the head. The enlarged extract below shows the wave-packet nature of the
spindles. The yellow bar shows elapsed time in seconds.

In future recordings we might test the five-jhāna model, but our

results are enough to suggest that vitakka represents the outermost
layer of our default sensory consciousness (DCs), and vicāra the next
more inner layer. The fact that 27 of our 29 subjects show spindling to
greater or lesser degrees also fits well with the fact that spindles
represent meditators’ growing success in resisting the pull of, or attach-
ment to, their sensory consciousness in developing access concentrate-
ion and the first rūpa jhāna, through which all meditators have to pass
before developing the higher jhānas.

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Slow waves, infraslow waves (ISWs) and pīti
The second theme is the appearance of slow (<1 Hz) or infraslow
(<0.05 Hz) rhythmic activity in the EEG for about 21 of our 29 subjects,
to varying degrees. Slow waves are well-known to occur in deep sleep,
anaesthesia and coma, all of which are regarded as unconscious states.
Their appearance in Samatha meditation therefore raises intriguing
questions as to the kind of consciousness that develops in this form of
practice. Eight meditators showed quite remarkable levels of intensity
and rhythmicity, far higher than in sleep, or even in any of the most
powerful examples seen in high-voltage delta coma. Not only are
intensities far higher, but the slow waves are also much slower, ~0.125
Hz on average, than those observed in deep sleep (~0.8-1.0 Hz, related
to the heart rhythm). Since there is also evidence of an underlying even
slower rhythm, ~0.05 Hz, we refer to these meditation slow waves
overall as infraslow waves (ISWs), quite distinct from sleep, and most
likely related to more profound processes of deep metabolic brain-body
integration.
The example in Figure 2 is a ~1 min excerpt from an experienced
meditator showing particularly intense ISWs at central electrode
locations. The inset maps correspond to the start and end points of the
yellow-highlighted segment, which shows an alternating pattern of
excitation-inhibition for the ISWs as they ebb and flow across the head.
The scale, right, shows ISWs reaching peak-to-peak intensities >1000
µV. For some subjects we have recorded intensities >2000 µV, up to
2500 µV in one case, levels completely unprecedented in neuroscience,
apart perhaps from some extreme pathological states. Compared to
typical EEG resting-state intensities ~20-30 µV, the voltage ratio ~100:1
corresponds to a power increase of almost four orders of magnitude
~10,000:1; no wonder then that meditators sometimes experience pīti
as a prickling around the crown of the head. To put this into
perspective, a study of experienced Tibetan monk meditators published
in 2004 found large increases in the low gamma band (25-42 Hz) of
approximately 30:1 in power, sometimes reaching 100:1. At the time,
this was regarded as quite remarkable. Yet it is still far below the
increases we have observed in this very slow rhythmic activity. It is
therefore not surprising that early reactions to our study were ones of
disbelief.

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 Figure 2. An example of meditation infraslow waves (ISWs)

Following an analysis similar to that for spindles, the cortical

sources underlying these infraslow waves are again quite distinct
from those of the slow waves in sleep, coma or anaesthesia. For
those meditators who show strong and extensive ISWs, the sources
are summarised in 3D source-space in Figure 3, where the labels B6,
B10 etc. are the conventional cortical Brodmann areas of neuro-
science.
For this sub-group of experienced meditators, the top row, left to
right, shows three regions of interest (ROI). Left shows frontal areas
that include frontal and fronto-polar sites (B10 and B11), extending
upwards towards the vertex at B8, amounting to 24.1% of the total
activity. The second ROI are the three central plots showing strong
intensity around the vertex, bridging the frontal-parietal divide, and
amounting to 44.4% of total activity, while at right the third ROI
includes temporal and occipital activity amounting to 11.7% and
19.8% respectively. The lower plots show the full development of the
crown or vertex source for some meditators, where all other activity
typical of our default sensory consciousness has disappeared.

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 Figure 3. Cortical sources underlying meditation ISWs

Once again piecing together different strands of neuroscience

research against Buddhist understandings of jhāna, we believe the
high-energy ISWs represent the development of the jhāna factor pīti.
In other words, while spindles represent the approach to and
development of the first rūpa jhāna, these high energy states
correspond to a meditator approaching and developing the second
rūpa jhāna and from there the higher jhānas.
These observations also suggest that
the occipital and frontal hubs represent
the residual subject and object poles,
respectively, of the sensory DCs, the
temporal contribution the residual part of
the ventral perceptual stream, while the
vertex hub is a sign of the emerging
second rūpa jhāna consciousness. In this
model, the occipital hub, which is integral
to the dorsal and ventral perceptual
streams of the DCs, carries the first-person “I/eye” pole of sensory
consciousness, while the frontal hub and associated executive attention
networks carries the object pole due to its role in cognitive processing,
the two relating to each other through recurrent connectivity. The 3D
source map of the vertex hub is then the first demonstration ever of
jhāna consciousness, representing a vertical axis down through the
brain stem into the body, quite different to the back-front, subject-
object nature of the DCs.

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Spike-waves and unstable pīti
The third theme is the occurrence, for some meditators, of occipital
spike-waves (shown, for example, in the bottom right corner of Figure
2), and Figure 4 shows expanded extracts for two meditators. Spike-
waves in neuroscience are normally associated with absence epilepsy,
while in meditation they occur spontaneously for some meditators
without disturbing their meditation, and are certainly not signs of
conventional unconsciousness. They also occur for some meditators
during the deliberate arousal of very high pīti during the so-called
“psychic-power” practice. We regard the occurrence of spike waves as
reflecting disruption to the “I/Eye” occipital-thalamic feedback loop,
and further evidence of disruption to the default subject-object nature
of our DCs.

Figure 4. Meditation spike-waves

Meditation spike-waves also differ from those of absence epilepsy

in that they display harmonic structure, unlike epilepsy where the
frequency is fixed. We believe this is evidence that disruption of our DCs
triggers the thalamus into harmonic activity in an attempt to stimulate
scaled network activity similar to that of the DCs; the implication being
that harmonic or fractal structure is an integral part of thalamo-cortical
connectivity, and that the δ, θ, α, β band structure of the DCs is but one
example, presumably optimal for sensory consciousness and minim-
isation of free energy.

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Seizure-like activity
In the Yogāvacara (and Tibetan yoga), specific techniques allow
meditators to deliberately evoke highly energised states. The rationale
is to become familiar with this ability, and to then tranquilize that
energy or pīti back into deeper absorption. To an observer, clonic
features similar to those associated with epilepsy are seen to occur, but
here they cause no discomfort and can be evoked or left at will. Figure 5
shows an example of practice by an experienced meditator. The first
sign of growing energisation is the development of occipital spike
waves, followed by a ~½sec global ictal burst, a second burst 3 secs
later, another ~7 secs later, and then the main body of the “seizure” 15
secs later. Physically, the meditator shows jerks and vibration mainly
along a vertical axis. The expanded view shows the occipital spike
waves, and a related and near-sinusoidal rhythm at the right temporal
site T6, reaching remarkable peak-to-peak intensity ~3000 µV. At right
are the two strongest underlying cortical components (ICs) for the main
yellow-highlighted event, showing intense, localised activity at right-
hand occipital sites, with a spike-wave frequency 5.62 Hz, and temporal
activity at the harmonic, 11.23 Hz.

Figure 5. Deliberate arousal of a seizure-like state

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 The fact that such control is possible in this form of meditation is
almost certainly due to highly developed attention – that is, relative
mastery of the first two jhāna factors, vitakka and vicāra – and raises
the question whether some features of our training might be of help for
epilepsy sufferers by making it possible to mitigate the frequency of
epileptic seizures.

For meditators
The “hindrances” in Buddhist meditation are often assumed to be,
at least in part, the meditator’s problem and are therefore experienced
as discouraging. The neurodhamma view, on the other hand, sees them
as reflecting disruption to the DCs – in other words, signs of slow but
steadily developing success at effecting changes in the brain’s networks.
Since each of us has lived within the DCs since birth, it is a big challenge
to withdraw from it and we should not be surprised if we experience
resistance to doing so.
Because of the all-pervasive nature of the DCs, over decades, in our
lives, this default consciousness possesses considerable momentum –
rather like a massive flywheel that, once set spinning, is very hard to
slow down. The hindrances then reflect the subjective experiences of
withdrawing from ever more subtle components of the DCs, as reflected
by the EEG evidence as follows:
• Vitakka represents the first stage of disruption to the DCs
dorsal attention networks, and is the first challenge to the moment-
um of the DCs. The hindrance of sloth and torpor is our subjective
experience of struggling against that momentum.
• Vicāra is the next level of challenge to the salience aspects
of the DCs ventral attention networks as a meditator develops
refined attention to the touch of the breath at the nose, to really
“feel” the experience and to minimise doubt as to where attention
is placed. Vicāra therefore relates to overcoming the second
hindrance of doubt.
• Pīti reflects the emergence of energy freed once attention
has been stabilised by the work of vitakka and vicāra. The next
layers of the DCs that meditators are then required to deal with
concern liking and disliking, or lobha and dosa. Dosa or ill-will is the
dominant hindrance at this stage, and is related to the underlying

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 fear (of loss of self) lying latent in the DCs where ill-will is the
defensive coping strategy (c.f. the “fight-flight” reactions in the old-
est parts of brain functioning). Passaddhi or tranquilisation of pīti
overcomes fear and ill-will.
• Sukha starts with quite subtle feelings of contentment that
gradually suffuse the body with satisfaction and confidence reflect-
ing freedom from fear and ill-will, or the need to “defend”. As sukha
develops, the hindrance of restlessness (and remorse for any under-
lying past actions linked to fear and ill-will) subsides.
• Ekaggatā is the culmination of withdrawal from the DCs and
therefore corresponds to overcoming the overall hindrance of
attachment to the DCs, or sense-desire.
As a final comment, this study highlights the crucial need for
meditators to be patient in allowing sufficient time to fully understand
attention, vitakka and vicāra, as the threshold to developing the first
rūpa jhāna. Without mastering attention, withdrawal from sensory
consciousness will be incomplete, easily leading to misunderstandings
(including over-estimation) of what is being experienced. Developing
vitakka and vicāra is closely aligned with development of the nimitta:
• Vitakka corresponds to the basic cognitive process of
attending to the touch of the breath at the nose tip, or development
of the preliminary-work (parikamma) nimitta. In the Yogāvacara liter-
ature this is said to be apprehended via the “door of the eye” (similar
to attending to an external kasina with the eyes open).
• Vicāra signals the meditator starting to discern the “feel”
and salience of the sensation of the breath, and is a step further to
apprehending the qualia of consciousness itself. This is development
of the acquired sign or uggaha nimitta which is mind-made rather
than fixed at the nose tip. In the Yogāvacara literature it is
apprehended via the “door of the mind”.
• The work of vitakka and vicāra culminates in a stability
where the breath and nimitta become in a sense inseparable, signify-
ing the fully developed counterpart sign or paṭibhāga nimitta, which
is now steady enough to lead the meditator deeper into jhānic
absorption. In the Yogāvacara literature this is apprehended via the
“door of touch,” reflecting the deep integration of body and mind in
samādhi.

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 Venerable O.M. Candavanna
photographed at Wat Buddhikarama,
Maryland, U.S.A., in 1992

A FRIEND INDEED
by Charles Shaw

One of the distinguishing features of Samatha in Manchester during the

1970’s and 80’s was the number of visitors from a wide range of
traditions and experience who were invited by Lance Cousins to visit
and engage with the Samatha group as it grew and developed. Lance
had a keen nose for getting to hear about people who in some cases
were just passing through the UK for a short stay, but who nevertheless
came to Manchester to give us some contact with another facet of the
teaching. These visits did not happen by accident: they required
considerable forethought and preparation. But perhaps the most
influential of all the visitors to Manchester in those days was not invited
by Lance but, rather, found him: Ven. O.M. Candavanna.
Ven. Candavanna was born on 13 March 1927 near Phnom Penh in
Cambodia. He became a novice monk at the age of 14 and in due course
undertook full ordination as a bhikkhu. His early studies and training
also took him to Thailand, Burma and eventually to India, where he
spent time at Benares University. It is intriguing to note that Nai

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Boonman – who grew up in northeast Thailand near the Cambodian
border and whose father was Cambodian1 – also studied at Benares as a
young monk before coming to the UK and would have been there at
around the same time as Ven. Candavanna, though it is not known
whether they met. (Others who studied at Benares and with whom we
have had contact at various times include, from Burma, Ven. Dr.
Rewatadhamma who founded the Birmingham Buddhist Vihāra; and,
from Sri Lanka, Ven. Vajirañāṇa of the London Buddhist Vihāra.)
In his native Cambodia, Ven. Candavaṇṇa had held senior positions
within the Buddhist community, the last of which was possibly the role
of secretary to the head of the bhikkhu sangha, the Saṅgharāja.2 The
intention was that he should study for a Ph.D before taking up a further
appointment, possibly as the head of a university in Cambodia. He
evidently gave careful thought as to where to study, since he was
prepared to undergo the considerable challenges of travelling to a very
different climate and culture in order to secure the best results, at a
time when Buddhist monks in the West were something of a rarity. In
1974 he chose to come to Manchester and enrolled at the University to
study with Lance.
During his time as a student, he adopted his lay name of Ven. Oung
Mean. His studies went well and on the basis of some preliminary work
he was soon accepted as a doctoral student. But meanwhile, conditions
back in Cambodia had changed dramatically, making it impossible for
him to fulfil his original intention to return. He therefore set aside his
studies in 1976 and eventually in 1978 accepted an invitation to join the
substantial Cambodian community in Maryland, USA. On leaving his
relatively informal life at the University, he moved first to the Buddhist
Society of Manchester in Sale and then to the Buddhapadīpa Temple in
London. From this time, when he reverted once more to a more
traditional role as a monk, he adopted his ordination name of Ven. O.M.
Candavaṇṇa, ‘colour of the moon’.
Although there were various lay Buddhist organisations in Man-
chester in the 1970’s, several of which he came to know in various ways,

1 See Boonman Poonyathiro, From One to Nine, Thailand, 2004.

2 For further biographical information, see the website of the Cambodian Buddhist
Society, Maryland USA at http://www.ibcdc.org/temples/cbs.htm .

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there were no temples or other monks in Manchester at that time.
Living on his own as a monk within such a secular environment – initially
in a room in a block of student accommodation on the main campus -
presented particular challenges which he met with a very clear sense of
the middle way. His characteristic attention to detail was evident in his
careful consideration of how to interpret the rules that govern the life
of a monk in the new context in which he found himself. For example,
he did not carry money but was happy to accept a bus pass. Students in
his hall of residence were provided with breakfast and tea but not lunch
and for a while he managed just on breakfast until we learned to offer
him something for lunch. This also brought home to us the inter-
dependence of the monastic and lay communities and the importance
and value of dāna, generosity.3
By 1974, the Manchester University Buddhist Society had been
running for three years and some of those who had taken up Samatha
practice as undergraduates were choosing to stay in Manchester after
graduation. Lance soon introduced Ven. Candavanna to members of the
group, for many of whom it was their first opportunity to meet a monk.
Of course, at the time we had no way of knowing what an unusual
opportunity that was, given his seniority and experience. It was particul-
arly remarkable that he never assumed a position of authority when
working with the group but, rather, was careful always to work with us
in whatever way was best suited to the circumstances. But, for all that,
he was greatly appreciated by all who met him and contributed to a
wide range of activities. Indeed, given his lasting influence on the
development of Samatha both in the North-West and more widely, it is
remarkable to think that he was in Manchester for only a rather short
time (1974-6).
The area where Ven. Candavanna’s influence is perhaps most
evident today is that of chanting, as he was the first person to provide
us with systematic teaching of Pali chanting. This must have involved
more creativity on his part than we realised at the time, since chanting
appears not to be ‘taught’ as such in traditional settings: the norm
appears to be for new monks and lay people alike to learn by listening

3For a fuller account, see S. Shaw, How does the Theravada Buddhist tradition adapt to
change?, Shap Journal, 2004/5 (www.shapworkingparty.org.uk/journals/articles–0405
/Shaw.rtf).

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to others and then joining in. He taught both individually and to groups,
and would provide a carefully typed-up4 sheet of Pali chanting before
each lesson, marked up with the various diacritical marks. He managed
to convey both a strong feeling for the chanting and a clear set of
instructions and guidelines: the difference between long and short
syllables, the different vowel sounds, how to breathe, how to chant in a
group, how to lead the chanting, and so on. These continue to provide
the basis for our chanting to this day. His method also echoed the early
stages of meditation practice, establishing a firm foundation based on
careful attention to detail and deeply rooted in the spirit of the
chanting.
The chants taught by Ven. Candavanna included Iti pi so, the Ref-
uges and Precepts (and the importance of taking refuge), the Metta-
sutta,5 Araññe rukkha-mūle vā, Yan dunnimittaṃ, Dukkha-ppattā, and
the blessing (Bhavatu sabba-maṅgalaṃ). The Twenty-Eight Buddhas
was learned from the chanting book that he produced later in the USA:
we learned it at his suggestion, as he felt it would be particularly helpful
while we worked on building the new shrine hall at Greenstreete. So,
within Samatha, all of these chants derive from the Cambodian
tradition. During his stay in London, after leaving Manchester and
before travelling to America, he arranged for Ven. Maha Manop to
come to Manchester to teach the Maṅgala-sutta and the Buddha-
maṅgala gāthā, in the Thai style.6
Listening recently to a recording of Ven. Candavanna leading some
chanting amongst the Cambodian community in Maryland, U.S.A.7
where he settled in 1978, I wonder also whether he consciously adapted

4 This long pre-dated the age of word processors and internet downloads!
5 The Metta-sutta was first taught during Ven. Candavanna’s stay at the Buddhist
Society of Manchester in Sale, in around 1976-7, to a small group comprising members
from Sale, from Samatha and from the Buddhist group in North Manchester.
6 Since then, we have had the opportunity to learn from others chanting in the Sri
Lankan style (offering verses, Ratana-sutta, Jayamaṅgala-gāthā), the Burmese style (22
Paccayas) and a diverse range of styles of Thai chanting (e.g Invitation to the devas,
Mahasamaya-sutta, Peak of Tipiṭaka), all building on that initial grounding in the
fundamentals of chanting learned from Ven. Candavanna.
7 http://www.cambodian-buddhist.org/videos.html. This is taken from the website of
the Cambodian Buddhist Association, Wat Buddhikarama.

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his style of chanting to suit his Western audience. Certainly, the nasal
tone which was apparent to a moderate degree when he chanted with
us is very marked in his chanting with fellow Cambodians and some of
the vowel sounds are different. Similarly, Nai Boonman appears to have
made some moderations to the technique of breathing mindfulness for
use in the West.
Ven. Candavanna also introduced us to another Cambodian monk
who spent some time in the UK in the 1970’s and 80’s. Ven.
Dhammavāra — who had been Ven. Candavanna’s preceptor back in
Cambodia — had a particular interest in colour meditation. He had a
centre in India where he used colour meditation (especially green) for
healing purposes. In the UK he spent time at Sherborne House in the
Cotswolds, at that time run as a centre by followers of J.G. Bennett,
where the meditation room had green light. He visited Manchester a
couple of times. Once, while staying at the Buddhist Society of
Manchester in Sale during Ven. Candavanna’s period of residence there,
some of us were fortunate to witness the two of them engaged in
vigorous debate on various points of abhidhamma! Ven. Dhammavāra
spent his final years in California, where he lived to well over 100.
Ven. Candavanna’s time at the University in Manchester coincided
with the first abhidhamma group there. This was another aspect of
dhamma which he had evidently studied and practised deeply. On one
occasion he recalled how, after many fruitless attempts to understand
Dependent Origination, he had finally spent two (or was it three?) days
and nights without sleep, working uninterruptedly on Dependent
Origination: only after that did he finally come to an understanding of
what it meant. Yet, for all his own experience and understanding, he
was content to play a supportive role in nurturing the abhidhamma
group in its early days, sensitive to the needs of those particular
circumstances.
Around this time, several members of the group were getting
married and setting up home and Ven. Candavanna introduced us to
some of the traditional blessing ceremonies that help to integrate
practice with the milestones of daily life. These included wedding
blessings, blessings of new homes, and naming ceremonies for children.
This gave people the confidence to organise such ceremonies
themselves in later years.

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 Once he had decided to end his university studies, Ven. Candavanna
had to leave his student accommodation and this raised the question of
where was he to stay in the longer term. Eventually he was invited to
Maryland in the USA by the Cambodian community there but in the
meantime, efforts were made to investigate the possibility of providing
a base for him in Manchester. The Buddhist Society of Manchester
kindly provided accommodation for him and looked after him at Sale
when he left the University. Meanwhile, Lance Cousins drew together
representatives from the various local Buddhist groups – the Buddhist
Society of Manchester, the North Manchester group and Samatha – to
form the Manchester Buddhist Vihāra Association with a view to
establishing a place for monks to stay in Manchester. In the event, this
body proved to be relatively shortlived once Ven. Candavanna had
decided to move to the USA. However, it had an unexpected legacy.
Through one of its members, we came to learn of an old church hall in
Chorlton which had been provided to the Spiritualist Church as
temporary accommodation by the City Council and was about to fall
vacant. The Council were happy to hear of possible new tenants and in
the summer of 1977 it became The Samatha Centre (now the Man-
chester Centre for Buddhist Meditation). The opening ceremony took
place in December 1977 and one of the guest speakers was Ven.
Candavanna. The day before the opening saw the arrival at the Centre
of a large Buddha-rūpa, initially destined for Germany but which Ven.
Candavanna had managed to persuade the Buddhapadīpa Temple in
London to offer to The Samatha Centre. The Buddha-rūpa was initially
provided on loan but was subsequently gifted to the Centre.
Ven. Candavanna died at the age of 66 on 16th March, 1993. His
time with us was brief but his legacy has been profound and long-
lasting. A true friend of Samatha.

- 16 -
 KNOWLEDGE NECESSARY FOR
HAPPINESS IN LIFE
by Ven. O. M. Candavanna*

What does ‘life’ mean here? No doubt ‘life’ can refer to living things in
general — to plants, animals, people, or to the period between birth
and death. But here, only the state of existence as a human being,
human relations and the social activities of the world are meant.
Happiness (sukha) is here defined as contentment or satisfaction
with oneself. It is sometimes divided into two — worldly happiness and
absolute happiness, or physical happiness and mental happiness;
sometimes it is divided into three categories — human, divine and
nibbāna happiness.
Now it is quite obvious that Buddhism accepts worldly happiness
and suggests four factors which bring it about. They are:
1. Possessions
2. Making good use of possessions
3. Being free from debt
4. Leading a blameless life.
It can be suggested that these are the fundamental principles of
economic life that Buddhism has contributed to the world.

*
During his time in the UK, Ven. Candavanna gave dhamma talks on a variety of different occasions,
both in Manchester and in London. This talk was given at the London Buddhist Vihāra in 1975.

- 17 -
 We all know what to ‘possess’ means. It is to earn money, to collect
wealth and to own property. How does one get all these things?
Through effort and knowledge. This means that we always have to be
aware, active and energetic.
The second factor teaches us how to use our property. According to
Buddhism, our possessions should be used in four ways — for bringing
up our children, for daily expenses, for supporting parents in their old
age and for charity for the future life.
The third factor teaches us not to run into debt. Once in debt, we
are like slaves, without freedom.
The fourth and last factor teaches us not to earn our living in a
wrong way. We should earn our livelihood by right means. Buddhism
refers to five occupations not to be undertaken by the laity. They are
trade in arms, in living beings, in meat, in intoxicants and in poisons.
Furthermore, it says that the blameless life is life in conformity with
the five precepts, the code of morality. It is said that the one who leads
a righteous life will live happily, both in this world and in the next. “Here
he is glad, hereafter he is glad, in both worlds the doer of good is glad,”
said the Buddha.
The five precepts are the foundations of peace among men. If all
nations of the world accepted them and put them into practice, surely
there would be real peace and nothing else. By keeping strictly the five
precepts, there is no suspicion amongst people. We can establish good
relations with each other based on righteousness, honesty and
frankness.
According to Buddhism, to observe the code of morality is not
enough. Life needs something more than that. We are all subject to the
law of impermanence, pain and non-clinging. Though Buddhism
guarantees the four causes that bring worldly happiness, it further
suggests that this very happiness contains both joy and sorrow. Man’s
desire is endless. The more people possess, the more they want to
accumulate, for their tendency is keenly competitive, based on greed,
hatred and delusion. Until and unless these three defilements cease,
there is no peace or satisfaction in one’s mind. Usually people tend to
do evil and expect to achieve good results. These three defilements are
the root cause of evil deeds; they lead people astray. When they are

- 18 -
overpowered by these three unwholesome causes, they are completely
blinded.
In order to get rid of these three evil bases, according to Buddhism,
one should practice three kinds of meritorious action — giving, morality
and the cultivation of the mind.
To bestow our happiness on other people, with the intention of
helping those who need help or those who are worthy of receiving, is
called giving (dāna). This enables us to acquire tolerance and generosity
(alobha) which is the opposite of greed (lobha).
To observe willingly any kind of precept — the five precepts, the
eight precepts, the ten precepts or the 227 precepts — is called sīla, the
code of conduct or the disciplinary rules. This sīla enables us to acquire
loving kindness (mettā or adosa) which is the opposite of hatred (dosa).
To cultivate our mind in both samatha and vipassanā is called
bhāvanā. Bhāvanā enables us to acquire wisdom (paññā), the opposite
of delusion (moha).
It is natural for us as people of the world, whose minds are still
clinging to lobha, dosa and moha, to be moved by the various objects
we perceive. When we acquire possessions, fame, praise and happiness,
we feel pleased. But when we cannot get these things, we feel depress-
ed. When someone tells us that lobha, dosa and moha are the root
cause of evil which results in pain, and alobha, adosa and amoha are
the root cause of good which brings about happiness, then we try to do
good, such as giving, observing certain precepts and cultivating the
mind. When we are busy with such meritorious deeds, our minds are
free from miserliness, hatred and delusion. The moment we go home
after performing generous deeds, after observing certain precepts or
after meditating, our minds are again overwhelmed by lobha, dosa and
moha. This means that the mind is so fickle and changing that it is hard
to control. Only those who have entered the Stream of Dhamma can
control their minds easily. They have detached themselves from sense
objects and see things as they really are. Their minds are well-
established and constant. We are therefore advised to make a constant
effort to practise meditation so that our minds become absorbed in
one-pointedness.

- 19 -
 The most important fact is to live with awareness and mindfulness.
Of what should we be aware? We should be aware of our life and our
body. Why should we be aware of our life and our body? As you all
know, we are subject to birth, decay and death and we fear these
natural phenomena. In Buddhism, pain (dukkha) other than birth, decay
and death is considered trivial because it originates only in birth, decay
and death. In the Jārasutta of the Saṃyutta Nikāya, the Buddha said to
Ānanda, his favourite disciple:
“So it is, Ānanda, old age is by nature inherent in youth, sickness
in health and death in life.”
To be aware and mindful is to hold the right view of life according to
the law of impermanence. We are advised to develop our minds in this
way: our life is uncertain and unstable; our death is inevitable; we must
die; and so on and so forth. This is called the reflection on death
(maraṇānussati). When we become aware and skilful in this kind of
meditation, then we come to realise the law of non-clinging or unreality
(anattā).
The term anattā in Buddhism is quite simple but people make it
appear complex. They interpret it in different ways. Some interpret
anattā as non-soul and say that Buddhism does not believe in a soul.
Some interpret it as non-self in the Hindu sense, which creates controv-
ersy as to whether Buddhism believes in God or not. As a matter of fact,
the Buddha never discussed the subject of soul, self or God.
Anattā is in fact the notion of detachment, or the idea of not cling-
ing to any possessions, including our body. When we realise that this is
not ‘I’, not ‘mine’, not ‘he’, not ‘his’, etc., we can then feel quite
balanced in the midst of events which have occurred, are occurring and
will occur. Then we become aware that we are guests whose stay in this
world is temporary. In time we will depart and leave everything behind;
nothing is ours. When this idea is fully developed, our minds become
tranquil. This is the state of pure happiness. This is the true sense of
anattā which we should understand.
Therefore, to see one’s true nature is the prime objective of life.
Buddhism gives us, by direct instruction, a method of curing our
ailments. The remedy for lobha, dosa and moha is the medicine that
Buddhism offers to the world. When these three evil causes cease to

- 20 -
exercise their power over people’s minds, there will be real happiness
and peace on earth.
The story about the weaver’s daughter, from the commentary to
the Dhammapada, may prove helpful in this context.
The weaver’s daughter was sixteen years old. For four years, after
listening to a discourse by the Buddha, she had meditated on the law of
impermanence, and the Buddha realised that she was ready to enter
the Stream of Dhamma. He then proceeded to the town of Ālavī in
order to assist her in this.
Usually, after eating, the Buddha gave a sermon or teaching to the
people gathered there. But this time he just sat quietly, waiting for the
weaver’s daughter. The people were surprised at the Buddha’s silence.
She had not turned up to see the Buddha because she was busy
working for her father, who had bidden her to spin some yarn and send
it to him quickly so he could finish his weaving that same day. She knew
that the Buddha had come to her town and was unsure about what to
do. If she went to listen to the dhamma, her father might punish her. If
she did not go to the Buddha, she would miss an opportunity to hear
the dhamma. At last she decided to spin the yarn quickly and then go to
the Buddha.
When she had finished spinning, she carried the basket full of yarn
to her father, passing through the place where the Buddha was sitting.
When she arrived at the spot, she looked at the Buddha and the Buddha
looked at her. She realised that the Buddha was waiting for her, so she
remained with him. After she had sat down, the Buddha started his
sermon by asking the weaver’s daughter four questions to which she
gave four replies:
“Where do you come from, my girl?”
“I do not know, sir.”
“Where are you going, my girl?”
“I do not know, sir.”
“Do you not know, my girl?”
“I know, sir.”
“Do you know, my girl?”
“I do not know, sir.”

- 21 -
 People at the meeting were getting embarrassed and began whisper-
ing to each other. The questions were simple; why could she not answer
them straightforwardly — that she had come from home and would go
back to her father’s weaving hall? They criticised her harshly, declaring
that she was a foolish girl, trying to play tricks with the Buddha. They
could not understand why, when the Buddha had asked her whether
she knew, she had replied that she did not know; and when the Buddha
had asked her whether she did not know, she said she knew.
After a while, the Buddha, in order to convince the people of the
sincerity of her answers, and to demonstrate her firm establishment in
the dhamma, asked her:
“Why did you answer my questions in such a way?”
She then explained her answers to the Buddha, one by one:
“I said I did not know from where I came because I do not know
from where I was born into this existence.
“To the second question, I said that I do not know where I am
going because I do not know where I am going to be born again
after my death.
“To the third question, I said I know because I know for certain
that I must die.
“To the fourth question, I said I do not know because I do not
know the date on which I shall die.”
The Buddha gave his approval at the end of each explanation and the
people were amazed.
This story illustrates the simplicity of the teaching of the Buddha. It is
suitable for all, male and female, young and old, monk and layperson
alike. Because it is so simple, people do not easily grasp it. Therefore,
the Buddha says:
“Blind is this world; there are few here who see clearly.
As few birds escape from the net, so few go to a blissful state.”
Andhabhūto ayaṃ loko tanuk’ettha vipassati
Sakuṇo jālamutto’va appo saggāya gacchati

- 22 -
 THE SALESMAN
by Bill Vennells

Like a tiger fixing predatory eyes on its prey on the edge of the
herd, Arwan closes in on the tourist among the colourful, clamorous
press of foreigners, local citizens and beggars. A man past the vigor of
youth, but still in good health. Perhaps English or American. Slightly
stooped posture, jerky movements. Damp patches of perspiration on
his clothes, beads of sweat glisten in his brow. Should he try the
insistent pleading that gets them so flustered and frustrated they will
buy whatever you have just to have it stop? Arwan is sharp and quick
witted. He decides on a more respectful bargaining approach.
Mike is hot and uncomfortable. It’s a still hot day, not a breath of
air. The pressure of the throng oppresses him. The trip is going well.
It’s a friendly group with a shared interest in the Buddhist sites they
are visiting. Today, he didn’t manage to doze on the coach and is
drooping a bit.
“Sir!” from his left elbow, Arwan’s favoured approach, insistent,
even a bit commanding.
Around them a small collection of ragged pleading beggars, some
display deformities, others vie insistently for attention.
Mike tries to proceed without responding, but a hand carved chess
set appears at the edge of his field of vision. He hesitates, Arwan
senses victory.

- 23 -
 They size each other up. Arwan hopes one day to have such fine
clothes and envies the self-confident air of those who have money.
Surely, they are not so different as human beings. He believes his lot is
due to karma from past existences which must be accepted and
worked through. He generally does not question his life so much. He
does what he can to support his family to whom he has unquestioning
love and loyalty. They manage to have enough shelter and food, all
eking out their existence in different ways.
Mike sees a man in western suit and trousers, old clothes but not
shabby. He piques Mike’s interest. Where does he come from? What is
his life like?
“A beautiful present or souvenir, sir. Hand made by my family for
generations.”
Mike is interested. Arwan lets him take a couple of pieces out of
the board, the pegs on the bottom going into the holes in the board.
Handmade, the pieces have been quite cleverly whittled into shape.
Arwan demonstrates how the lid of the box clips over the small chess
board and how the whole can slip into a bag for travelling. Once they
have held the goods, he reckons it’s almost a certain sale.
Mike is definitely intrigued.
“OK, how much?”
Arwan is impassive, poker-faced.
“Three thousand Rupees.”
Dismay and disappointment from Mike, an open palm gesture.
“Oh, I am sorry, I wasn’t going to spend anything like that.”
“But this is a hand-made work of art!”
Mike nods unconsciously in acknowledgment. Now Andy has
drifted over to join him, out of curiosity. “Make an offer yourself then
Mike.” Arwan nods.
A moment’s consideration, an aside to Andy (“I reckon a fiver to a
tenner”), then “One thousand rupees”.
“Two thousand, five hundred.”

- 24 -
 “Right. One thousand, five hundred. Definitely my last offer.”
Arwan: “Now make an offer that you think this is worth.”
“One thousand, five hundred is definitely my last offer.”
Arwan nods, the deal Is done. The box is wrapped in torn news-
paper and presented to Mike. Two other men appear magically from
the throng with a kettle of Chai tea and small wooden cups, and all
take a cup, Mike spilling a few drops on his fingers in his attempt to
take it while holding his prize. He yells, one of the men gives him a
cloth to dab his fingers. They invite Mike and Andy to sit on a nearby
bench to have the chai, but they politely decline as they must get back
to the rendezvous with their party. They depart, smiles and waves on
both sides, a polite refusal from Mike to a peacock feather fan offered
for sale by a relative of Anwar.
The ancient mighty Ganges flows on by, no matter what transpires
on her banks, for good or ill. Downriver, the tongues of flame from
several funeral pyres lighten the sky.

- 25 -
- 26 -
 WORDS FOR A FULL MOON
Five words offered by each of twenty-one meditators
while practising with Nai Boonman at Greenstreete
on 15 August 2019
Assembled by Tod Olson

The path: mud, rocks, light

Dance, light, trees, wind, joy
Cool green, warmer green, green
Luminous forest, liminal nimitta, deva-manusanaṃ
Rain, blue, hope, despair, resignation
Fine rain, a soft breeze
Joy enfolding beauty, here, now
Jhāna Boonman Youngman, live long
Pain, reality, known/unknown truth, peace
Quiet, attentive, contented, awake, caring
Stop, slow, simple satisfaction, smile
Gentle breeze blowing from inside
Beautiful, vibrant, deep, joyful, unknown
Given time, it could settle
Clouds, gaseous, lightning, shining, earth
Reflection, portal, being, fluid, soft
Moonrise: run silent, run … high!
Airy lightness flowing, streaming togetherness
Shimmering lens refracts blue dawn
Spaciousness, tender upekkhā, silence, ease
No words to say this

- 27 -
 TUNING INTO THE JHĀNAS
AND THEIR QUALITIES
by Peter Harvey

In our practice, as the Settling state becomes more developed and

well-established, one can begin to investigate its riches more deeply.
In particular, one can become more open to the arising of the qualities
of which the four jhānas are composed, and so begin to ‘taste’ the
jhānas themselves. One may find that certain applications of mindful-
ness can help one to enter them, and then to dwell very simply in
them – at first, for a few moments or minutes at a time – and then to
gradually develop mastery in this.
This may mean sitting for longer periods than we are used to, so
one needs to adopt a comfortable, unstrained posture, perhaps helped
by such things as some support for the knees.
Over time, the approach through the preparatory stages to the
Settling may become more powerful and direct. Preliminaries such as
bowing, chanting, and establishing the posture can help the hin-
drances to subside and enable skillful qualities to arise in their place.
This may mean that some joy is experienced even at this stage.

- 28 -
 When one sees that the five hindrances have been, or are being,
given up …
“… in oneself, gladness (pāmujja) arises, and when one is glad, joy
(pīti) arises. When the mind is joyful, the body (kāya) becomes
tranquil (passambhati), and when the body becomes tranquil, one
experiences happiness (sukha); the mind (citta) of someone who is
happy becomes concentrated (samādhiyati).” (DN I 73)
As we move through the Longest breath from the Counting to the
Settling, we may find that this state of concentration, supported and
strengthened by joy and happiness, gradually deepens until we begin to
approach or “access” the threshold of jhāna.
The first jhāna is described thus:
“Completely secluded from desire for sense-objects, secluded
from unwholesome states (the hindrances), one enters and dwells
in the first jhāna, which is joy (pīti) and happiness (sukha) born of
seclusion, accompanied by mental application and examining
(vitakka and vicāra). One suffuses, fills, soaks, and drenches this
very body with the joy and happiness born of seclusion, so that
there is no part of one’s whole body that is untouched by that joy
and happiness.” (DN I 73).
This is about engaging the nimitta with vitakka and vicāra, and
allowing joy and happiness (with accompanying physical pleasure) to
arise and pervade both mind and body, with concentration building up.
We may find that joy can sometimes have strong effects such as
making the body shake or jump in the air. This is the fourth of the five
levels of joy. To reach the fifth level, with joy not clustered in one part
of the body, but pervading all aspects equally, one needs to give it
space, and to develop tranquility, which in turn enables happiness to
increase.
The second jhāna is described thus:
“From the subsiding of mental application and examining, one
enters and dwells in the second jhāna, which is joy and happiness
born of concentration, without mental application and examining,
and with inner confidence (ajjhatta sampasādana) and mental
unification (cetaso ekodi-bhāva). One suffuses, fills, soaks, and

- 29 -
 drenches this very body with the joy and happiness born of
concentration, so that there is no part of one’s whole body that is
untouched by that joy and happiness.” (DN I 74)
This is about letting the more active states of vitakka and vicāra
subside, so that one can stay in the presence of the nimitta without
effort, with joy and happiness pervading. These pleasant feelings are
associated with an inner confidence, a trust in this state of mental
unification, a sense that is a good ‘place’ to be.
The third jhāna is described thus:
“With the fading away also of joy, one dwells equanimously and,
mindful and clearly comprehending, one experiences with the body the
happiness of which the noble ones speak saying ‘equanimous and
mindful, one dwells happily’; one enters and dwells in the third jhāna.
One suffuses, fills, soaks and drenches this very body with a happiness
distinct from joy, so that there is no part of one’s whole body that is
untouched by that happiness.” (DN I 75).
This is about letting joy (and associated physical pleasure) fall away, so
that there is a tranquil, contented happiness, a smile that pervades the
body. Mindfulness and equanimity are particularly mentioned. Of course,
they were already present in the previous stages, but now they come
particularly to the fore.
The fourth jhāna is described thus:
“From the abandoning of (mental and physical) pleasure and the
abandoning of (mental and physical) pain, just with the disappear-
ance of the former happiness and unhappiness, one enters and
dwells in the fourth jhāna, neither painful nor pleasant, with purity
of mindfulness by equanimity. One sits suffusing this very body with
a mind that is thoroughly purified and cleansed, so that there is no
part of one’s body that is untouched by that thoroughly purified and
cleansed mind.” (DN I 75–6)
This is about letting happiness fall away, leaving a strong, centred
composure – a state of finely balanced one-pointedness, with absolutely
no discursive thought – together with mindfulness purified by equan-
imity. In this state, the mind becomes very pure, and this pure mind
pervades one’s body or whole being.

- 30 -
 As one attunes to the qualities of each jhāna, it may be helpful to
reflect briefly on its associated simile. The four similes are, respectively:
First jhāna: “It is as if a skilled bath attendant or his pupil were to
sprinkle bath powder into a bronze dish, and then knead it together
adding the water drop by drop so that the ball of soap absorbed and
soaked up the moisture until it was saturated with moisture, yet not
quite dripping.”
Second jhāna: “It is as if there were a pool where water sprang up
(from below), but which has no water flowing into it from the east,
the west, the north, or the south, and which the (rain) god did not
fill with rain from time to time. Now when the cool waters sprang
up in that pool they would suffuse, fill, soak, and drench that same
pool with cool water, so that no part of that pool would be
untouched by the cool water.”
Third jhāna: “It is just as if, in a pond of blue, red or white lotuses,
there were some lotuses that had come into bud and grown in the
water, never rising out of the water, but flourishing beneath its
surface. Those lotuses would be suffused, filled, soaked, and
drenched from root to tip with cool water, so that no part of those
blue, red or white lotuses would be untouched by the cool water.”
Fourth jhāna: “It is as if a person were to sit down having wrapped
himself from the head down in a freshly washed (or white) cloth, so
that there were no part of his whole body that was untouched by
that freshly washed cloth.” (DN 2.78-84)
The first simile suggests material being worked together into a self-
contained cleansing ball. The second is suggestive of a self-contained
state in which joy wells up. The third suggests a state which opens out
into a surrounding pool of happiness. The fourth suggests a state set
apart from the ordinary world.
More simply, it may be helpful just to bring to mind the qualities of
each jhāna in turn.
Or, it can sometimes be helpful to call to mind the nature of the
deities (devas) that are said to dwell in heavenly levels of existence
corresponding to each of the jhānas:

- 31 -
 For the first jhāna, these are Great Brahmā – full of lovingkindness
and the other brahmavihāras; seen by some as an active, creative
force – and his ‘ministers’ and retinue. These are suggestive of the
subtle activity of vitakka and vicāra.
For the second jhāna, they are gods of limited, boundless, or
streaming radiance, suggestive of a very bright nimitta.
For the third jhāna, they are gods of limited, boundless or complete
beauty, suggestive of a very beautiful nimitta. The height of loving-
kindness is also said to be in a state of ‘beauty’ (SN V 119), perhaps
meaning the third jhāna.
For the fourth jhāna, they are gods of ‘Great Fruit’, indicating that
this is a state of great potential. Also at this level are heavens of
great wisdom, where the almost-enlightened non-returners are
reborn. (But we do well to remember that another heaven at this
level is the abode of ‘unconscious beings’ who, due to insufficient
mindfulness, mishandled the fourth jhāna state by allowing subtle
perception to fall into no perception at all.)
So, having some familiarity with the above imagery and ideas, one
can briefly bring one or other to mind in a way which helps to flavour
and 'seed' one's state of mind. This then helps the mind to more fully let
go of distractions, open towards a jhānic state, and become attuned to
its world of pure, and purifying, bright elemental form.

- 32 -
 (: SMILING :)

Inside and Outside Smiling

=>
(: Happiness and Freedom :)

- 33 -
 PATHS
… begin: well when do they begin; when do they end? Often, it’s
easy: I go to meet a friend. I leave the house and, after a journey,
there’s my friend. Sometimes it’s less clear and samatha practice seems
like this. When did we start a path; how do we follow it; and how do we
know its ending? Simple: I found out about a meditation class; I went
and practised; and here I am after several months or years. However,
it’s worth exploring further the ideas of beginnings, paths, and endings.
Why? Our views often benefit from a rethink!
Greenstreete exemplifies a place that assists our practice. Early
most mornings, the grass on the lawns is dusted with water droplets.
After an hour or two, you can see where meditators have walked,
disturbing the droplets. Ways appear walked by a number of people.
Though they may begin and end in the same places, no one path is the
same. The paths intertwine, coming and going amongst themselves, as
each person walks from one place to the other. Samatha paths may be
very similar. We share a path towards freeing ourselves. Sometimes we
work closely with others; at other times we go in different ways, arising
from our preferences only to return again.

- 34 -
 The Bodhisatta – Buddha to be – is portrayed as leaving wealth,
power, family life and a rich future. Instead, he sought out teachers and
learned meditation practices. Still not satisfied, he practised severe
fasting. A key moment was when he realised that this was a dead end.
Then he recollected the rightness of a path he had already tasted years
before. As a young boy, he had quietly entered a deep sense of peace
while sitting in the shadow of a tree as he watched his father, the king,
ceremonially ploughing as part of the Spring Festival. He decided not to
be afraid of that good feeling and recollected the jhānas, states of deep
calm, which he had mastered. Then, with his mind at ease with itself,
he directed his mind and allowed understanding to ripen and lead on to
freedom.
So, following a path requires us to realise when things are not
working; even if, like the Bodhisatta, we’ve practised that way for years.
Not necessarily easy! And fruitful developments can arise from
recollecting times and places when we have been deeply content.
A rather late text, the Nettippakaraṇa, Netti or The Guide for short,
can help here. When considering teaching, it proposes that there are
four paths of learning: slow and painful; slow and pleasant; fast and
painful; fast and pleasant. We probably have views as to which path we
are currently on – and which we would prefer most!
For the Netti, it’s a matter of conditions and consequences. Painful
paths are due to attachment being too strong – we just can’t let
something go. Paths are pleasant when view predominates, but without
attachment! Speed is due to our disposition, either slow to take things
up or being quicker witted, often due to more experience.
Linked with these four paths are five faculties (indriya) – confidence
(saddhā), vigour (viriya), mindfulness (sati), one-pointedness (samādhi),
and wisdom (paññā). Indriyas are rulers holding sway over their
domains. They gradually take centre stage as the mind settles. Our mind
is naturally said to be ‘… radiant but it is stained by stains which arrive.’
Recognising these stains, let alone addressing them and letting them go,
is no small order. It’s part and parcel of bhāvanā – practice or ‘bringing
into being’ – of which meditation is a keystone, but includes how we
conduct ourselves – our speech, our actions, and our ways of life.

- 35 -
 The five faculties together share an awakening quality which devel-
ops through familiarity and grows stronger. Though all five need to
come into balance with each other, each of the four paths takes one of
the five faculties as foremost in its development. When the path is slow
and painful, mindfulness is key; when it is slow and pleasant, vigour is
needed. When the path is quick and painful, one-pointedness is
appropriate; and when it is quick and pleasant, wisdom is paramount. In
turn, each faculty has a means of development: the four foundations of
mindfulness; the four right efforts; the four (or perhaps eight) jhānas;
and the four truths (see the diagram opposite).
But where is confidence? Here, it is taken as the base of the other
faculties. Each of the other four faculties rule from confidence. What is
confidence in this context? Saddhā is a starting point. We are confident
in ourselves to take a path and have confidence in the path we are going
to take. Rupert Gethin quotes a passage in the suttas that shows the
relationship between confidence and the other four faculties. I have
emphasised the five faculties in the passage.
“The confident follower of the noble ones (ariya-sāvaka) having
repeatedly endeavoured so, having repeatedly been mindful so,
having repeatedly practised concentration so, having repeatedly
known so, thus becomes fully confident. ‘Those dhammas which
were previously only heard by me – I now dwell having experienced
them with my own body: having penetrated them with wisdom, I see
them.’”
Confidence enables the other four faculties to develop and flourish.
This, in turn, leads to new experience, new understanding, and confid-
ence is strengthened too.
We must not be deceived that we are bound to one of these paths.
In fact, they change, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, as we
change, usually unknown to ourselves. So, as a necessary precaution,
it’s worthwhile developing all or several of these faculties from time to
time:

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 • Investigating the types of mindfulness – how does the body move?
• Experiencing what is meant by different types of effort – is there
really super-effort?
• Gaining experience of how to develop joy, happiness, and calm – can
joy be all-pervading?
• Investigating, questioning and taking nothing for granted – what
does wisdom mean in experience?
In short, our path changes,
branches and intertwines with
others, and is supported by
others. At other times, perhaps
we are just the person to give
someone else support. Our
practice may have one aspect
foremost at any time but,
hopefully, we are willing to
engage in other areas too,
especially at times when we find
ourselves outside our comfort
zone. After all, to develop this
path, in the end, it must be
complete.
We may find that all we have done and do in our lives can become
food for the path; the good deeds we value; the bad things we wish to
hide; the neither this nor that. Each experience can be helpful; some to
emulate; some to recognise as dead ends; some to address; some to let
go of. So where does a path start then? There’s no one answer.
Samatha answers could be: when we decided to go to a class; when
we are happy to report regularly; when we take full responsibility for
our practice. It could be, as a Buddhist teacher put it, ‘when you cannot
give up your practice.’ It may be, as texts say, when you have full
confidence in the path you are taking; when dhamma appears as
‘beautiful in its beginning, beautiful in its middle, beautiful in its ending’.

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 We rightfully should expect a path in samatha, to lead towards
balance, towards freeing, and a sense of the relatedness of things. Of
course, to find balance, we have, at times, to go out of balance so as to
find a new balance. Sometimes, as we go along, things that are
complicated become simple; sometimes simplicity discloses intricacy
just as the play of light and shadow on a Welsh summer’s day. So why
not keep going?
Happy journeying.

Notes:
Page 34. Greenstreete exemplifies a place …: The national/international retreat
centre of Samatha sited in the Welsh borderlands.
Page 35. The Bodhisatta …: This is related in the Mahāsacca sutta No. 36 in the
Middle Length Sayings.
Page 35. When considering teaching, it proposes …: The four ways are set out
in Engish translation in The Guide, (translated by Bhikkhu Ñanamoli), PTS,
(1977) Pages 15-16.
Page 35. Our mind is naturally said to be ‘… radiant …: An English translation is
given in The Numerical Discourses of the Buddha, (translated by Bhikkhu Bodhi)
Wisdom (2012) Book 1; Page 97.
Page 36. Saddhā is a starting point …: The Pali word saddhā is translated here
as confidence. Sometimes it is translated as faith. Like many Pali words no one
word in English covers its meaning exactly. Saddhā is a quality of a skilful mind
and relates very much to confidence in the path being taken. In the end we
have to find out through experience what Saddhā means for us and be
prepared for that meaning to develop too.
Page 36. Rupert Gethin quotes a passage …: in The Buddhist Path to
Awakening, Oneworld, (2001), page 111. The sutta is translated in Connected
Discourses of the Buddha (translated by Bhikkhu Bodhi), PTS (2000), pages
1693-1694.

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 SOMETHING AND
NOTHING
Unless there is something,
there can be no nothingness.
Unless there is suffering,
there can be no happiness.
There is no nibbāna
without ordinary things.

Nai Boonman
Greenstreete
24 August 2015

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