The Evolution of Happiness - The
Buddha's Steps to Nirvana
Joseph Goldstein
tricycle
It is said that after his enlightenment the Buddha
was motivated to teach by seeing that all beings were seeking
happiness, yet out of ignorance were doing the very things that
brought them suffering. This aroused his great compassion to point
the way to freedom.
The Buddha spoke of different kinds of happiness
associated with various stages on the unfolding path of awakening.
As we penetrate deeper into the process of opening, the happiness
of each stage brings us progressively closer to the highest kind of
happiness, the happiness of nibbana, of
freedom.
What are the causes and conditions that give rise to
each of these stages of happiness? How does this joy come about?
The events and circumstances of our lives do not happen by
accident; rather they are the result of certain causes and
conditions. When we understand the conditions necessary for
something to happen, we can begin to take destiny into our own
hands.
The first kind of happiness is the one that’s most
familiar to us—the happiness of sense pleasures. This is the kind
of happiness we experience from being in pleasant surroundings,
having good friends, enjoying beautiful sights and sounds and
delicious tastes and smells, and having agreeable sensations in the
body. Even though these pleasures are impermanent and fleeting, in
the moments we’re experiencing them, they bring us a certain
delight.
According to the Buddha, each of the different kinds
of happiness is created or conditioned by a different level of
purity. The level that gives rise to sensual happiness is purity of
conduct, sometimes called purity of action. Purity of conduct is a
fundamental way of coming into a true relationship with ourselves,
with other people, and with the world. It has two aspects. The
first is the cultivation of generosity—the expression of non-greed
and non-clinging. It is greed or attachment that keeps us bound to
the wheel of samsara, the cycle of life and death. With every act
of giving we weaken the power of grasping. The Buddha once said
that if we knew as he did the fruit of giving, we would not let a
single meal pass without sharing it, so great is the power of
generosity.
The Buddha spoke of three levels of generosity. He
called the first beggarly giving—we give the worst of what we have,
what we don’t want, the leftovers. Even then, we have a lot of
doubt: “Should I give it? Shouldn’t I? Next year I’ll probably have
a use for it.” The next level is friendly giving—we give what we
would use for ourselves, and we give it with more spontaneity and
ease, with more joy in the mind. The highest kind of generosity is
queenly or kingly giving. The mind takes delight in offering the
best of what we have, giving what we value most. This is the
perfection of generosity.
Generosity takes many forms—we may give our time,
our energy, our material possessions, our love. All are expressions
of caring, of compassion, of connection, and of renunciation—the
ability to let go. The beauty of generosity is that it not only
brings us happiness in the moment—we feel good when we give—but it
is also the cause for happiness to arise in the future.
The other aspect of purity of conduct is
sila, the Pali word for morality. In the Buddha’s teaching
there are five precepts that lay people follow: not killing, not
stealing, not committing sexual misconduct, not using wrong
speech—false or harsh speech—and not taking intoxicants, which
cloud or delude the mind. The underlying principle is
non-harming—of ourselves, other people, and the
environment.
Just as generosity is a practice, so, too, is
commitment to the precepts. Consciously practicing them fosters
wakefulness and keeps us from simply acting out the habit patterns
of our conditioning. The precepts serve as a reference point,
giving us some clarity in understanding whether our behavior is
wholesome or unwholesome. They are not a set of commandments—“Thou
shalt not do this” and “Thou shalt do that”—but rather guidelines
for exploring how our actions affect our mind: What happens when
we’re in conflict with the world? What happens when we’re in
harmony with other people and ourselves? In the traditional
teachings of the Buddha, morality is the foundation of
concentration, and concentration is the foundation of wisdom. When
the mind is in turmoil, it’s very difficult to concentrate. The
power of virtue is a steadfastness and ease of mind. And when we’re
in harmony with ourselves, we give a wonderful gift to other
people—the gift of trust. We’re saying with our lives, with our
actions, “You need not fear me.” Just imagine how the world would
be transformed if everybody observed one precept: not to
kill.
The joy we experience when we’re practicing
generosity and morality gives rise to the second kind of happiness,
the happiness of concentration. The Buddha called this purity of
mind. When the mind is steady and one-pointed, there’s a quality of
inner peace and stillness that is much deeper and more fulfilling
than the happiness of sense pleasures. We enjoy sense pleasures,
but at a certain point we tire of them. Just how long can we listen
to music or eat good food? By contrast, the happiness that comes
with concentration of mind is refreshing. It energizes
us.
There are many techniques for developing
concentration. We can focus on the breath, on a sound, on a light,
on a mantra, on an image, on walking. We can practice
metta, lovingkindness, or karuna, compassion. We
can each find the way that for us is most conducive to
strengthening the state of one-pointedness, of collectedness. We
learn how to quiet the inner dialogue. As concentration becomes
stronger, we actually start living from a place of greater inner
peace. This is a source of great happiness, great joy.
The happiness of concentration makes possible the
next kind of happiness, the happiness of beginning insight. When
the mind is still, we can employ it in the service of awareness and
come to a deeper understanding of who we are and what life is
about. Wisdom unfolds in a very ordered way. When we sit and pay
attention to our experience, the first level we come to is
psychological insight. We see all our different sides—the loving
side, the greedy side, the judging side, the angry side, the
peaceful side. We see parts of ourselves that have been covered
up—the jealousy, the fear, the hatred, the unworthiness. Often when
we first open up to the experience of who we are, we don’t like a
lot of it. The tendency is to be self-judgmental. Through the power
of concentration and mindfulness, we learn how to rest very
naturally in the simple awareness of what’s happening. We become
less judgmental. We begin to get insight into the complexities of
our personality. We see the patterns of our thoughts and emotions,
and the ways we relate to people. But this is a tricky point in the
practice. Psychological insights can be very seductive—who’s more
interesting than oneself ?—so it’s easy to get lost on this level
of inquiry. We need to be watchful and keep coming back to the main
object of meditation.
Through the practice of very careful momentary
attention, we see and connect very directly with the nature of
thoughts and emotions, not getting so lost in the story. What is
the nature of anger? What is the quality of happiness? What is the
quality of compassion? The momentum of mindfulness begins to
build.
At this point there’s a real jump in our practice.
The Buddha called this level purity of view, or purity of
understanding. We let go of our fascination with the content of our
minds and drop into the level of process, the flow of phenomena. We
see clearly that what is happening in each moment is knowing and
object, arising and passing away.
The Buddha once gave a very short discourse called
“The All” in which he described the totality of our experience in
six phrases:
The
eye, visible objects, and the knowing of them.
The ear, sounds, and the knowing of them.
The tongue, tastes, and the knowing of them.
The nose, smells, and the knowing of them.
The body, sensations, and the knowing of them.
The mind, mind objects, and the knowing of them.
This is our first clear glimpse of the nature of the
mind itself. We see that all we are is a succession of mind
moments—seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, thinking,
feeling. At this stage, we have a very direct understanding of what
the Buddha called the Three Characteristics. We have a visceral
experience of the truth of anicca, impermanence:
everything is changing constantly. And out of this intimate
understanding of the momentariness of phenomena, we begin to
comprehend more clearly what the Buddha meant by dukkha,
suffering—the unsatisfactory nature of things. When we see that
even pleasant things are changing—and changing rapidly—it becomes
obvious that they are incapable of satisfying us. Not because they
are inherently bad but because they don’t last. This insight leads
to an understanding of the characteristic that is most difficult to
see—anatta, or selflessness. There is no one behind this
process to whom it is happening; what we call “self” is the process
of change.
Purity of view is a gateway to greater insight and
even deeper levels of happiness. The momentum of mindfulness
becomes so strong that the perception of phenomena arising and
passing away becomes crystal clear. Concentration and awareness are
effortless. The mind becomes luminous. This point in the practice
is called Vipassana happiness. It is a very happy time in our
meditation. The joy of it far exceeds the happiness of
concentration or of sense pleasures, because we experience such
precise, clear insight into the nature of things. It’s our first
taste of coming home. We feel tremendous rapture and overwhelming
gratitude: after all the work we’ve done, we’re finally reaping a
great reward.
But there’s a problem here. This stage is often
called “pseudo-nibbana.” Everything we’ve practiced so hard
for—clarity, luminosity, rapture, lightness, joy—is reflected back
to us as what the Buddha called “the corruptions of insight.” The
qualities themselves are not the problem; indeed, they are the
factors of enlightenment. But because our insight is not yet
mature, we become attached to them and to the happiness they bring.
It takes renewed effort to come back to simply noting these
extraordinary states. At this point we hit a bumpy stage. Instead
of the arising and passing of phenomena, we begin to experience the
dissolution of everything—our minds, our bodies, the world.
Everything is vanishing. There’s no place to stand. We’re trying to
hold onto something that is continually dissolving. As this stage
unfolds, there is often tremendous fear.
In Vipassana happiness, we can sit for hours. But at
the stage of dissolution we sit for ten or fifteen minutes and
become disgusted. This phase is colloquially known as the “rolling
up the mat” stage because all yogis want to do is roll up the mat
and quit. It’s a very difficult time, with a lot of existential
suffering. This is not the suffering of pain in the knees or of
psychological problems but the suffering inherent in existence. We
think our practice is falling apart, but actually this is a stage
of deepening wisdom. Out of our opening to dukkha comes what is
called “the urge for deliverance,” a strong motivation to be
free.
From this urge for freedom emerges another very
happy stage of meditation, the happiness of equanimity. This is a
far deeper, subtler, and more pervasive happiness than the rapture
of the earlier stage of seeing things rapidly arising and passing
away. There is softness and lightness in the body. The mind is
perfectly poised—there is not even the slightest reaching for or
pushing away. The mind is completely impartial. Pleasant or
unpleasant, whatever arises is fine. All the factors of
enlightenment are in the final maturing stage.
It is out of this place of equanimity that the mind
opens spontaneously and intuitively to the unconditioned, the
unborn, the unmanifest—nibbana. Nibbana is the highest happiness,
beyond even the happiness of great insight or understanding,
because it transcends the mind itself. It is transforming. The
experience of nibbana has the power to uproot from the stream of
consciousness the unwholesome factors of mind that keep us bound to
samsara. The first moment of opening to the highest reality uproots
the attachment to self, to the sense of “I.” And it is said that
from that moment on, a being is destined to work through the
remaining defilements, such as greed and anger, on the way to full
awakening.
What the
Buddha taught on so many levels was how to be happy. If we want the
happiness of sense delights, there are causes and conditions,
namely, purity of conduct. If we want the happiness of stillness,
of peace, we need to develop concentration—one-pointedness of mind.
If we want the happiness of insight, we need to develop purity of
view, purity of understanding through strengthening mindfulness. If
we want to experience the happiness of different stages of insight,
all the way through equanimity, we need to continue building the
momentum of mindfulness and the other factors of enlightenment. And
if we want the highest happiness, the happiness of nibbana, we
simply need to walk this path to the end. And when we aim for the
highest kind of happiness, we find all the others a growing part of
our lives.
The Buddha on Happiness
"The mind, when trained, brings happiness."
—Dhammapada 35
This was said by the Blessed One, said by the Arahant, so I have
heard: "Don't be afraid of acts of merit. This is another way of
saying what is blissful, desirable, pleasing, endearing,
charming—i.e., acts of merit...”
Train in acts of merit
that bring long-lasting bliss—
develop generosity,
a life in tune,
a mind of good-will.
Developing these
three things
that bring about bliss,
the wise reappear
in a world of bliss
unalloyed.
—Itivuttaka
22
A happiness: friends when the need arises.
A happiness: contentment with whatever there is.
Merit at the ending of life is a happiness.
A happiness: the abandoning of all suffering & stress.
A happiness in the world: reverence to your mother.
A happiness: reverence to your father as well.
A happiness in the world: reverence to a contemplative ....
A happiness into old age is virtue.
A happiness: conviction established.
A happiness: discernment attained.
The non-doing of evil things is a happiness.
—Dhammapada 331-333