The Unenlightened Buddha

by Jamie Reygle

Welcome!

Of course you are uncertain, Kalamas. Of course you are in doubt. When there are reasons for doubt, uncertainty is born. So in this case, Kalamas, don’t go by reports, by legends, by traditions, by scripture, by logical conjecture, by inference, by analogies, by agreement through pondering views, by probability, or by the thought, ‘This contemplative is our teacher.’ When you know for yourselves that, ‘These qualities are unskillful; these qualities are blameworthy; these qualities are criticized by the wise; these qualities, when adopted and carried out, lead to harm and to suffering’ — then you should abandon them.

—Kalama Sutta

Hi. You’ve just started reading a little book called The Unenlightened Buddha. You may well be asking, what on Earth is an unenlightened Buddha? Good question. 

Let’s start with the question, who was the Buddha? Born Siddhartha Gautama, he was born a prince in what is now Nepal. His father wanted him to live free of suffering, so sheltered him from all the world’s miseries. This worked—for a while—but in his late 20s Siddhartha witnessed some things that would change his life forever. He saw an old man, a sick man, a corpse, and an ascetic. Inspired by the ascetic’s determination to be freed from the fear of death and suffering, he immediately left his palacial existence to be an ascetic himself. He dedicated himself to this path with a number of different teachers for several years, only to determine that it could not free him from suffering itself. Upon this realization, he determined to sit under a tree and meditate until he found release from suffering. He sat there for a long time—nearly 50 days—but it worked! And he spent the rest of his life sharing what he learned under that tree with anyone who cared to listen. That turned out to be a lot of people.

This book discusses some of the key things he shared during his lifetime—which, in sum, provide a method by which anyone can release themselves from the suffering of the world. In the terminology of his time, someone who has achieved that goal of freedom, of awakening, of enlightenment, is a Buddha. He was by no means the only Buddha to grace this planet, but he is certainly one of the most famous.

So what does it mean to be free of suffering; to be a Buddha? To me, a Buddha is someone who doesn’t experience the world as you and I do. Think, for a moment, about what perception is: it’s an interpretation of what our senses have received; an interpretation of an interpretation, if you will. There are all these different waveforms out there, and our senses very convincingly present some of them to us as sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch. Our perceptions are therefore distinctly unique reflections of reality, determined almost entirely by how we already see the world. A Buddha is someone unblinkered by perception, someone who sees the world as it is. There is a word for such a person in our lexicon as well; we could call that person a Christ.

If I read the Buddha correctly, we are all unenlightened Buddhas (until we’re not). Our true nature is our ‘Buddha nature’, and we just don’t realize it. While we don’t realize it, we remain ‘unenlightened’. But ‘Buddha nature’ is our ‘enlightened’ selves, and if that is what we truly are, then this whole ‘unenlightened’ business is merely a misperception.

Does that sound like a good circular argument to you?

Let’s put it another way; many people use the term ‘awakened’ instead of ‘enlightened’. If we’re not awakened, then what are we? That’s right, asleep! So it seems that it doesn’t really matter how you look at it, the only reason we’re ‘unenlightened’ is because we don’t realize that we can only be ‘enlightened’.

We’re all Buddhas who don’t recognize our buddhahood: unenlightened Buddhas.

Yet I’m no Buddhist. I don’t identify with any particular religion. I love the teachings of the Buddha just as I love the teachings of the Christ. There are many other teachers out there—even today—who also speak what I consider to be the same message.

And the Buddha’s teachings have some advantages over many of the others: primarily, they are presented as a system that anyone can follow and test. They are also unencumbered by gods and other deities, so nobody needs to ‘convert’ to study them. And they’ve stood the test of time.

Now, like any great teacher, his words are still subject to interpretation. This is why we have Theravada and Mahayana and Zen and Tibetan and Pure Land and all the other branches of Buddhism. It’s the same with Christianity, and the Baptists and Catholics and Protestants and Lutherans and all the others. That’s what we humans do: we interpret things. Here we are with one set of teachings, and myriad ways to interpret them.

So why not throw another one in the mix? That’s all The Unenlightened Buddha is: just a secular interpretation of some of the Buddha’s teachings. As such, it’s a pretty simplistic interpretation. I’m not a monk—I don’t study the texts in depth every day; I spend most of my time forgetting the invaluable lessons contained therein; I’m happy if I get to sit in meditation for even 30 minutes in a day; I have no rituals other than a meditation in the morning when I awake, and a usually much shorter one just before I go to bed; I have a drink every now and then; I have a wife; I act and communicate unskillfully, quite often—no, a monk I most certainly am not. But all these things also mean that any interpretation I do have will be relatively relevant for the ‘real’ world; the world of families and jobs and bills and all the other day-to-day stressors that you won’t typically find in a monastery.

So please, study whatever you can that the experts have to say about the Buddha’s teachings (or anyone else’s you are drawn to). And right now, you’re reading this. Go ahead, it’s not too long, and at the very least it should help you develop your own interpretation of the Buddha’s teachings. Yours won’t be any more or less wrong than mine, after all, an interpretation is only that. Here’s mine.

The Translations

For the sake of consistency, all the translations of the Buddha’s teachings in this book come from one source; Access to Insight, which I have found to be an excellent online source for English translations of the Buddha’s teachings. The Bible quotes are from the English Standard Version.

The Format

It’s through direct knowledge that I teach the Dhamma, not without direct knowledge. It’s with a cause that I teach the Dhamma, not without a cause. It’s with marvels that I teach the Dhamma, not without marvels. Because I teach the Dhamma through direct knowledge and not without direct knowledge, because I teach the Dhamma with a cause and not without a cause, because I teach the Dhamma with marvels and not without marvels, there is good reason for my instruction, good reason for my admonition. And that is enough for you to be content, enough for you to be gratified, enough for you to take joy that the Blessed One is rightly self-awakened, the Dhamma is well-taught by the Blessed One, and the community has practiced rightly.

—Gotamaka-cetiya Sutta

The Buddha taught for many years, but he didn’t really veer from his central message: to be free, detach. Think about all the things we’re attached to: our beliefs; our identities; our sexuality; our families; our friends; our communities; food; drugs and alcohol; shopping; brands; concepts; cultures; thoughts—the list is endless, but it all comes down to the same thing, and that is that whatever we attach to keeps us in bondage. We can’t be free if we’re letting something hold onto us.

Which is easy enough to say. The difficulty comes in the doing, or really, in the being. ‘Doing’ is, after all, another thing we can become readily attached to. 

The Buddha recognized this, and developed a format—or a container—which anyone could utilize to live by and therefore understand his teachings. Much of this format is covered by the five areas covered in this book, namely:

The Precepts. It’s unlikely you’ll ever attend a mindfulness retreat without reciting some version of the precepts. In any contained environment inspired by the Buddha (such as a monastery or retreat), this set of agreements puts everyone on the same page and provides the basic building blocks for attaining the freedom many people in these environments are seeking.

The Four Noble Truths. You’ve no doubt heard that the Buddha said life is suffering. Well, that was one of the things he said. It’s essentially the first noble truth. The fourth one is all about how to not suffer, and the other two are about how we get from the first to the fourth.

The Noble Eightfold Path. This is the path we need to walk —the life we need to live—if we want to be free from suffering. It’s also the fourth noble truth.

The Five Hindrances. While the method of attaining freedom is simple, we humans have a tendency to make it as difficult as possible. This is largely because one of the things we’re most attached to is existence as we know it. At some level the idea of being free from this experience we’re so familiar with is scary, or at the very least objectionable. Have another look at the list of things we’re attached to, and notice the judgments arise when we consider being detached from things like family and friends. The Buddha left his wife and newborn son to attain freedom. See what I mean? Judgments!

Anyway, the point is that we may think we want freedom, but a big part of us actually doesn’t. That part of us has some very powerful mechanisms to keep freedom at bay, and they are represented by the five hindrances.

Loving-Kindness. For many, this is the most enjoyable part of mindfulness practice. This is where we get to ‘spread the love’, so to speak. It’s a great way to finish a meditation, and a great way to finish a book about mindfulness, too.

The Precepts

Mind precedes all mental states. Mind is their chief; they are all mind-wrought. If with an impure mind a person speaks or acts suffering follows him like the wheel that follows the foot of the ox.

Mind precedes all mental states. Mind is their chief; they are all mind-wrought. If with a pure mind a person speaks or acts happiness follows him like his never-departing shadow.

—Dhammapada

At many meditation retreats you’ll recite a version of the five precepts. Why? Well, if we were able to follow these rules perfectly, there’s a very good chance we’d no longer be unenlightened Buddhas. Let’s have a look at them.

I undertake the precept to refrain from destroying living creatures.

Unless you’re St. Francis of Assisi, there is a bug or critter you’ve gone out of your way to kill. Me? I kill ticks and fleas and mosquitoes the moment they find me. I have a vegetable garden, and I’ve collected and fed a wide array of bugs and slugs to my chickens and guinea fowl; and just plain smooshed many more. I got a dog to ‘take care’ of the groundhogs and raccoons that were decimating our garden. I am a murderer—or an accomplice to the fact—many times over.

But I’m not a complete psychopath. I do feel bad about it—mostly, anyway. And this may be what it comes down to: if we must kill something, can we at least acknowledge what we are doing? Can we recognize this life we are taking as something more than just another critter? Can we see ourselves in it? Do we allow that for some strange twist of fate, we are the squisher and not the squishee? Can we experience life’s impermanence as we take another one away?

In order to survive in this form, we are bound to be executioners from time-to-time. It is not a role to be taken lightly, and it is not a role to be undertaken gratuitously. The more you pay attention—seeing that little bug recoil just before you kill it; noticing the sensations inside you as a flicker of life’s eternal flame is extinguished—the less you will be inclined to take a life unless you really feel you have to.

And then there’s meat. I love it. It’s delicious. There is nothing like oozing blood-red steak or raw oysters or well-marinated kangaroo. Or bacon. But having said that, I am at a point in my life where I don’t eat those things. It just came to me one day after just having eaten my fill of carnivorous delights that I couldn’t, in good conscience, continue to eat my beastly brethren.

This was entirely my decision and I don’t judge the multitudes who do eat meat. Why would I? I totally get where they’re coming from—like I said, it’s delicious. But, for me, I saw that I was taking a life every time I ate meat, and I was noticing a nagging element of guilt underlying that activity. I’m not comfortable with guilt, so the only course of action I could find to alleviate it was to choose peacefulness over pleasure.

Peacefulness over pleasure; it’s a choice we are often given. The Buddha was all about equanimity, which pleasure-seeking is decidedly not. There is craving and aversion (which each lead to suffering), and then there is equanimity (which reflects the absence of suffering); pleasure-seeking is an extreme form of craving. This does not mean we shouldn’t ever have pleasurable experiences—quite the contrary, actually—but what it does mean is that seeking them is a guaranteed form of suffering.

So how do we have pleasurable experiences without seeking them? Well, this is where the irony lies: the experience of true equanimity—when nothing is experienced as good or bad, when everything just is—is truly pleasurable in and of itself. Imagine constant pleasure. The very reason craving leads to suffering is because the pleasure doesn’t last. When we want something, we suffer to get it; then when we get it, we can’t fully experience it because we’re still caught up in the story of getting it; then when we’re done with it, that empty feeling that led us to wanting it in the first place arises again and the cycle of suffering continues.

When we don’t want anything in particular and don’t not want anything in particular, there is nothing to suffer for, and everything that happens to us can be fully experienced as it is.

But critters and dinner aren’t the only ways we kill.

Let’s look at our minds. This is what we are attempting to do when we meditate: watch our minds. What have you found there? It’s not always pretty, is it? We’ve all had murderous thoughts from time to time, and every time we do, the person we’re ultimately harming is ourselves: we are disrupting our own peace by holding onto thoughts that envision the harming of others.

Notice. Find one of these thoughts and experience the sensations that accompany it. How comfortable is it to sit in this?

Each thought we have colors our perception. The dark ones make it murky, and suffering follows us like the wheel that follows the foot of an ox.

I undertake the precept to refrain from taking that which is not given.

Acquisition is the root of stress.

—Sunakkhatta Sutta

Have you ever taken something that was not given you? I have. In its most brazen form, I actually stole a few things when I was a kid. Fortunately I got caught, and that pretty much put an end to it.

But what else do we take that isn’t given? In many ways, it depends on your interpretation of the word given.

When I ask you to give me something and you give it to me, did you give it to me or did I take it? Ponder this, from the Maggavagga (The Path):

All conditioned things are impermanent — when one sees this with wisdom, one turns away from suffering. This is the path to purification.

All conditioned things are unsatisfactory — when one sees this with wisdom, one turns away from suffering. This is the path to purification.

All things are not-self — when one sees this with wisdom, one turns away from suffering. This is the path to purification.

Essentially, what this is saying is that all impermanent things prove to be unsatisfactory in the end. Anything you think you want fits into this category. So when you’re asking for something, you are setting yourself up for suffering: either you won’t get it and you’ll be upset, or you will get it and you’ll be unsatisfied. Either way, you lose.

We do not need to waste our energy telling the universe (or anyone in it) what we want. Think how much easier it would be if we just wanted this, whatever this may be at any given time. Imagine living your life knowing you always have what you want, because what you have is what you want. To not have to constantly dictate to the universe (or our friends, or our parents, or ourselves) what it needs to provide for us to be happy would take a huge load off our shoulders.

Notice. Scan over the past 24 hours and find something that upset you. Sit and observe the sensations in your body and the thoughts that go through your mind as you bring yourself back to that moment. Now, look at the expectation you had that wasn’t met, and try to remove that from the equation. With that gone, take yourself back to the same space, and observe the sensations and thoughts you experience without any expectation over the outcome.

Savor your freedom.

I undertake the precept to refrain from sexual misconduct.

This seems pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? We’ve all been pretty well educated on what is considered to be sexual misconduct, and most of us are pretty careful not to do it.

But what society considers to be sexual misconduct, and what the Buddha meant by it could well be different things.

It seems fairly evident that the Buddha kept it really simple for himself by not engaging in any sexual activity. But even if you’re not actually engaging in sex, does that necessarily mean you’re not committing some kind of sexual misconduct? Remember the quote at the beginning of this chapter:

Mind precedes all mental states. Mind is their chief; they are all mind-wrought. If with an impure mind a person speaks or acts suffering follows him like the wheel that follows the foot of the ox.

It’s all about mind. It’s all mind.

We engage in sexual misconduct with every fantasy, with every sexual desire. Or, as another great Buddha—Jesus Christ—put it:

For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person. But to eat with unwashed hands does not defile anyone.

—Matthew 15: 19-20

And who doesn’t have a fantasy every now and then?

So should we just give up here? If we’re all going to have an impure mind from time-to-time, what hope do we have? Plenty, I’d say. It’s been said that a sure sign of awareness is recognizing where you’re unaware. In this sense, those sexual fantasies can act as a chime inside your head, as vivid a sign as any that our mind is fixated on thoughts rather than the present moment, where awareness resides.

Which is fine, but have you ever tried to stop thoughts like these from flowing? Once they start, the mind can get a little carried away, can’t it? Telling it to stop is a little like standing in front of a rampaging bull with your palm out in front of you, painted red. The more you tell them to stop, the more those thoughts are going to trample you.

The more you tell your thoughts to stop, the more they feel threatened by you. Your thoughts are not your enemy. Your thoughts are just thoughts; and identifying with them is just a symptom of an inward determination to not be at peace. And we all know that if you want peace, you have to make peace. So make peace with these thoughts; welcome them; give them the freedom you have been seeking for yourself.

Notice. Give it a try right now. Notice the thoughts that have been distracting you as you read this, and give yourself five minutes to sit with them and allow them to be. Invite them in. Welcome them. These are the thoughts that have been trying so hard to be heard—fighting them has made them louder; what does welcoming them do?

Give your thoughts the love you’d want them to give you.

I undertake the precept to refrain from incorrect speech.

This is a hard one for me. I’m Australian. Part of my identity (as I see it) involves cussing. But is cussing what the Buddha meant by ‘incorrect speech’? Partly, yes, but it goes a whole lot deeper than a few four-letter words.

Consider this quote from the Sahassavagga (The Thousands):

Better than a thousand useless words is one useful word, hearing which one attains peace.

Here’s what I notice: the more aware I am, the less I have to say. When I am largely unconscious, I feel the need to butt into every conversation with my ‘valuable’ perspective. The more conscious I become, the more inclined I am to listen attentively to the wisdom that surrounds me.

If you pay attention, you’ll find it’s easy to notice when you’re engaging in incorrect speech. It’s not comfortable. You know that thing you’re itching to add to a conversation? You know how it usually doesn’t go down so well? Incorrect speech. How about that unnatural laugh that follows something you just said? What does it usually follow? Incorrect speech. And that feeling as your face flushes as you’re talking? Yep, incorrect speech.

In fact, if it’s not coming from a peaceful space, the substance of what you’re saying must contain incorrect speech. 

And have you noticed peace’s most fundamental quality? It’s silent.

Notice. Close your eyes and watch your thoughts. Try not to attach to them or to judge them, just watch them as they pass on by. What happens when you don’t judge them? What happens when you don’t try to stop them?

Be still an instant, and go home.

I undertake the precept to refrain from intoxicating drinks and drugs which lead to carelessness.

I won’t lie to you, I’ve had my fair share of intoxicating drinks and drugs. And I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to stop doing them as well. When I used to smoke cigarettes, my line was, “Quitting is easy, I’ve done it hundreds of times.” Some people don’t have it so easy, struggling their whole lives to manage out-of-control addiction.

But regardless of whether you’re a full-blown addict or just enjoy the odd binge, you’re going to encounter your fair share of careless moments. On one level, this can be part of the fun; you get a little wasted, and weird things happen. But if your goal is to find peace, you won’t find it in a bottle, a pill, a tab, or a blunt.

What you can find—especially with some drugs—is an intoxicating invitation to another realm. But trust me on this, it’s just a tease. We’ve been talking a lot about the suffering expectation causes, and those drugs give you the expectation that you can go deeper, further, faster with them than with anything else. In a sense it’s true, but it’s deeper, further, faster into despair as the doses grow and the initial experiences (and the expectations they fostered) dim into a flickering memory.

It is carelessness to expect that an external agent can bring you peace. Only presence can bring you peace. The here and now is where peace lies. Drugs take you somewhere else, and most of the time you don’t know where until you get there; but wherever it turns out to be, it’s invariably a dead-end.

I’m not saying don’t do drugs. There’s no better way to get someone to do something than telling them not to, after all! I’m saying, when you do use them, 

Notice. Are you able to stay present? does it bring you peace? are you truly happier because of them? If the answers to any of these questions are “no,” then ask yourself what you really want.

What is good enough—for you?

The Four Noble Truths

Bhikkhus, it is through not realizing, through not penetrating the Four Noble Truths that this long course of birth and death has been passed through and undergone by me as well as by you. What are these four? They are the noble truth of suffering; the noble truth of the origin of suffering; the noble truth of the cessation of suffering; and the noble truth of the way to the cessation of suffering. But now, bhikkhus, that these have been realized and penetrated, cut off is the craving for existence, destroyed is that which leads to renewed becoming, and there is no fresh becoming.

—Maha-parinibbana Sutta

To free yourself from suffering, first you need to recognize you’re experiencing it; then you need to recognize what is causing it; then you need to recognize what will end it; and finally, you need to do something about it. These are the Four Noble Truths.

The First Noble Truth

Now this, monks, is the noble truth of stress: Birth is stressful, aging is stressful, death is stressful; sorrow, lamentation, pain, distress, and despair are stressful; association with the unbeloved is stressful, separation from the loved is stressful, not getting what is wanted is stressful. In short, the five clinging-aggregates are stressful.

—Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta

Life is suffering. We’ve all heard it. It’s the central tenet of the Buddha’s teachings. Life is suffering.

You could be forgiven for thinking this is depressing; who wants to suffer anyway? Well, according to the Buddha, we all do—otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing it. That was the choice he made: not to suffer. And it is one we can make too:

By oneself is evil done; by oneself is one defiled. By oneself is evil left undone; by oneself is one made pure. Purity and impurity depend on oneself; no one can purify another.

—Dhammapada

Or, alternatively:

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.

—Matthew 7: 7-8

What the Buddha is saying with the First Noble Truth is that when we lead a life driven by attachment—craving and aversion—we suffer. “Not getting what is wanted is stressful.” Attachment. All the other things—birth, aging, death, sorrow, etc.—all are associated with the fundamental attachment to the body. While we believe we are this body—while we attach to it—we suffer. That’s stress.

So it may be helpful at this point to look at what he was talking about with the ‘five clinging aggregates’ mentioned above in the Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta:

Whatever form — past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near — is clingable, offers sustenance, and is accompanied with mental fermentation: That is called the form clinging-aggregate.

Whatever feeling — past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near — is clingable, offers sustenance, and is accompanied with mental fermentation: That is called the feeling clinging-aggregate.

Whatever perception — past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near — is clingable, offers sustenance, and is accompanied with mental fermentation: That is called the perception clinging-aggregate.

Whatever (mental) fabrications — past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near — are clingable, offer sustenance, and are accompanied with mental fermentation: Those are called the fabrications clinging-aggregate.

Whatever consciousness — past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near — is clingable, offers sustenance, and is accompanied with mental fermentation: That is called the consciousness clinging-aggregate.

These are called the five clinging-aggregates.

—Khandha Sutta

In short, these are the things we can cling—or attach—to: form, feelings, perceptions, mental fabrications, and consciousness. Or, in other words, anything.

Notice. What are you clinging to now? Does the idea of letting something in particular (past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near) go upset you in any way?

Then you’re clinging to it. If you find yourself wanting more of it, you’re clinging to it, which leads to...

The Second Noble Truth

And this, monks, is the noble truth of the origination of stress: the craving that makes for further becoming — accompanied by passion and delight, relishing now here and now there — i.e., craving for sensual pleasure, craving for becoming, craving for non-becoming.

—Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta

Think you know what you want? When you get it, does it make you happy? This is where that expression, careful what you ask for, comes in. When we think we know what we want, we become preoccupied by it, absorbed in all the fantasies that accompany our expectations. But when we get it, it’s never what we expected. And when we don’t get it, well, that doesn’t work out well either.

The truth is we can’t truly know what we want. We can know what feels right and what doesn’t; we can know how to handle a situation; but we can’t know what will be the best outcome in any situation. Look back at past decisions you’ve made—the ones you’ve been absolutely certain about—you have the benefit of hindsight now; so, did you make the right decision? Did things work out as you expected them to? Not everything went according to plan, did it?

Here’s the thing: we cling. We hold onto things, sometimes with a very tight grip, but what are these things that are so important to us? We come into this world empty-handed, we leave it empty-handed, and in between the things that upset us are what is or isn’t in those hands. Nothing really belongs to us, after all. The whole concept of ownership is just that—a concept. And this is why we suffer; we’re each and every one of us attached ultimately only to concepts. Think about it: that wedding ring that’s so important to you is entirely based on a concept; the reasons for getting that really important job are all based on concepts; whatever your most cherished belief is, it’s ultimately based on a concept. We work and stress and fight and die over these things, and they’re all in our head.

Notice. Find the thing that is most important to you right now. List the reasons it is important. Can you find one—just one—reason that isn’t based on a concept, an idea?

Every now and then, we do let go of something. What happens then? Well, that would be covered by...

The Third Noble Truth

And this, monks, is the noble truth of the cessation of stress: the remainderless fading and cessation, renunciation, relinquishment, release, and letting go of that very craving.

—Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta

Ah yes, letting go of that craving. Easier said than done, isn’t it?

What is a craving? It is wanting something you don’t currently have. To satisfy a craving is to have that thing, whatever it may be. And notice, only the craving is satisfied. You’re not. You’re temporarily occupied, is all. That craving is very soon replaced by another, because the thing you’re craving can never make you whole.

And that’s why we crave: we don’t feel whole. We want something—a lover, a drink, some food, a pair of shoes—to make us feel complete. But the sense of lack is within us; nothing outside of us can fulfill it.

The only way to truly fulfill a craving is to let it go.

And the only way to let go of a craving is to understand that your sense of incompleteness is merely that: a sense. You are already whole; you are complete. You lack nothing.

There are some very strong words in this Noble Truth—cessation, renunciation, relinquishment—so be very careful how you interpret them. Start by seeing they are surrounded by other terms like remainderless fading, release, and letting go. You are not making a sacrifice here. You’re letting go of the desire for something that can never truly satisfy you, in return for the knowledge that you are—and always have been—truly satisfied.

There is no comfort in craving. To spend any time experiencing it—now that is a sacrifice.

Be careful, too, to confuse letting go of something with not wanting it. Not wanting something is just the other side of the wanting coin: they are, in essence, the very same thing. Remember, the Buddha left the renunciants when he realized they were missing the point: it’s not the thing you don’t want, it the wanting you don’t need.

Notice. There is something you’ve been wanting lately. Spend a few moments to identify your experience of wanting it: how do you treat yourself? what sensations do you experience? where does your mind travel? Does this experience bring you peace or stress?

But how do we cease our cravings? Well, that’s the whole point of...

The Fourth Noble Truth

And this, monks, is the noble truth of the way of practice leading to the cessation of stress: precisely this Noble Eightfold Path — right view, right resolve, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration.

—Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta

Right. Since you were wondering how to release yourself from suffering, here it is. In a nutshell: don’t do things that will make you feel uncomfortable. Only do things that bring you peace.

Easy to say, I know, but there are a lot of temptations out there. When you succumb to them—because you will—just know that you have the tools to get back on track to the path of peace.

Right view, right resolve, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration. That’s a lot of rights, right? But they’re all pretty much the same thing; they’re all easy to do when you’re paying attention to what feels right. You know that little voice in your head that says, don’t do that, no really, don’t, don’t…oh, you did it—you know that voice? Well, it’s always right. That’s your little ‘right’ voice; telling you when you’re about to not have right speech, right action, right effort, etc.

Tune into it, because deep down you don’t need any Buddha telling you this stuff. Deep down, you already know it. That’s the thing with these teachings; all the Buddha ever did was get still enough to freely access the knowledge we all possess. He plumbed the depths and brought that knowledge to the surface. Trust in what you know; not in what you believe; not in what you think you want—just trust in what, deep down, you truly know.

It’s really that simple.

Notice. Identify a time recently when something turned out poorly for you. See if you can look honestly at the moments that led up to it. What signals did your body and/or mind send you, that may have been telling you to choose a different option?

Now let’s look a little closer at this Noble Eightfold Path...

The Noble Eightfold Path

Now what, monks, is the Noble Eightfold Path? Right view, right resolve, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration.

—Magga-vibhanga Sutta

There are but eight things to consider if you want to make the right choice—every single time.

Right view

And what, monks, is right view? Knowledge with regard to stress, knowledge with regard to the origination of stress, knowledge with regard to the stopping of stress, knowledge with regard to the way of practice leading to the stopping of stress: This, monks, is called right view.

Here’s the thing about knowledge: it can’t be taught. Sure, you can be given directions in how to seek it, but the acquisition of knowledge is completely on you. Remember the quote at the beginning of the book? Here’s what the Buddha said next, representing the transition from awareness to knowledge:

Now, Kalamas, don’t go by reports, by legends, by traditions, by scripture, by logical conjecture, by inference, by analogies, by agreement through pondering views, by probability, or by the thought, ‘This contemplative is our teacher.’ When you know for yourselves that, ‘These qualities are skillful; these qualities are blameless; these qualities are praised by the wise; these qualities, when adopted and carried out, lead to welfare and to happiness’ — then you should enter and remain in them.

—Kalama Sutta

Or, in other words, don’t believe anything to be true just because somebody told you so. Test it, and find out for yourself. Check in. What is true for you? And once you know what is true for you, stay in that truth, because deviating from it—being dishonest with yourself—is only going to hurt you.

Just be careful here not to confuse a belief with a truth. Here’s the thing about truth: if it’s true for you, it’s true for everybody. If it isn’t, it’s a belief, not a truth. Here’s another important thing: you may have discovered something to be true by testing it, but somebody else may not have tested it yet. In that case, it may not appear to be true to them, but your knowledge may tell you otherwise. What do you do with that? Treat them with kindness, that’s all, because truth is kind.

Be the truth. Don’t preach it, just be it.

And you know that sense of superiority you get when you know someone else is wrong? That doesn’t come from knowledge either. Knowledge doesn’t do right and wrong, knowledge doesn’t make you better than; knowledge simply is. It’s what connects us all, so how could it separate us like that?

Notice. Find a time when you thought you knew better than somebody else. Notice how you treated them, notice how this created separation between you. Now, what happened after this? Did everything go smoothly for you, or did you experience a ‘comeuppance’ of some sort, that somehow addressed that sense of superiority?

What comes around goes around; it’s a central tenet of the Buddha’s teachings, of the Tao, and of the theory of relativity. It’s the Golden Rule.

Right resolve

And what is right resolve? Being resolved on renunciation, on freedom from ill will, on harmlessness: This is called right resolve.

While right view—knowledge—is essential to release yourself from stress, it is only possible with right resolve.

This is a tricky one. It is so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day minutiae of existence; to believe all the stories about what it means to be you; to think things like politics and sport and movies and success are important. When we get caught up in the middle of one of the stories that swirl about us like Dorothy in a tornado, we lose our resolve to be in peace with what is. In those moments, knowledge leaves us.

Or—to be more precise—we leave knowledge. Knowledge never really leaves us. It’s always there. It simply is. But when we lack the resolve to live in and by that knowledge, that’s when this thing we call stress takes over.

Notice. What keeps you from your resolve? Find three things which you allow yourself to get absorbed in, that distract you from your resolve on renunciation, on freedom from ill will, on harmlessness. What can you do to better maintain your resolve?

Just know, when those moments arise in which you do lose your peace, that peace is still there waiting for you to join it again. It’s very patient; it’ll wait an eternity until you’re ready, until your resolve returns.

Right speech

And what is right speech? Abstaining from lying, abstaining from divisive speech, abstaining from abusive speech, abstaining from idle chatter: This, monks, is called right speech.

There’s an old aphorism that says to only speak if what you want to say is true, helpful, necessary, and kind (you can use the acronym THNK, if it works for you). This is saying pretty much the same thing: be honest (remember the precepts?); don’t say anything that separates one person from another; don’t attack anyone; and don’t talk just for the sake of talking.

Imagine how the world would be if we all took this up—very quiet, I imagine. However, while we can’t expect everyone else to THNK before they speak, we can make it an intention for ourselves.

Notice. Begin making a point of using THNK in select conversations. What impact does it have on your thinking? On your listening ability? On your understanding of the other person(s) in the conversation? How does it impact the conversation? What impact does it have on your state of mind?

There is a lot of noise in the world, and much of it is a distraction. Mindfulness is freedom from distraction. Be free.

Right action

And what, monks, is right action? Abstaining from taking life, abstaining from stealing, abstaining from unchastity: This, monks, is called right action.

Right action isn’t difficult. Not, at least, if you’re being mindful.

Here’s why: being mindful is paying attention, and when we are paying attention on the deepest level—to what is happening within us—we notice clear signals that tell us when we’re not engaging in right action. More importantly, when we’re truly paying attention, we notice what feels ‘right’, and it always corresponds to right action.

You know that thrill that comes from, say, taking life, stealing, or unchastity? Is that fear, or is that excitement? Aside from interpretation, is there a difference? Here’s the thing about right action: it keeps you from fear, from guilt. Imagine a life in which you had nothing to hide, in which you could be completely open with the world because you had done nothing to hurt it: that is the life right action promises you.

Notice. Next time you experience guilt, give yourself the opportunity to reflect on what led up to that point internally. Can you find the moment in which something didn’t feel quite ‘right’, in which you received some kind of signal telling you that what you were about to do was a bad idea?

This isn’t rocket science: if you want your life to be easier, go ahead, make it easier. Look out for the signals, and act right.

Right livelihood

And what, monks, is right livelihood? There is the case where a disciple of the noble ones, having abandoned dishonest livelihood, keeps his life going with right livelihood: This, monks, is called right livelihood.

Right livelihood follows from right action: if you are acting in a manner that holds cognitive dissonance at bay, you will choose to earn your livelihood in a way that keeps your conscience clear.

And this plays out in the real world. A recent study found that happier people tend to prioritize quality time over making money. It’s the mindful way!

This is not to say you won’t get rich by being mindful; you just won’t get rich screwing over other people. And money will be a byproduct of your actions, not their cause. That’s just the beginning; what you do with your money—with your livelihood—is also important. Here’s a tip: don’t hoard it. We’ve already established that clinging doesn’t work for us; there really aren’t any exceptions to this rule, no matter how much you have, no matter how justifiable your reasons may seem for holding on to it.

Notice. Find something you are doing in your life that doesn’t sit truly with your conscience. Ask yourself, what are you afraid of losing if you give it up? Now ask yourself, what is more essential to your peace of mind—holding on to the thing you are losing, or giving up the thing you are doing to keep it?

We have a justification for everything we do that doesn’t agree with our conscience, and until we investigate the justifications, we will continue to do things that need justifying.

Right effort

And what, monks, is right effort? (i) There is the case where a monk generates desire, endeavors, activates persistence, upholds and exerts his intent for the sake of the non-arising of evil, unskillful qualities that have not yet arisen. (ii) He generates desire, endeavors, activates persistence, upholds and exerts his intent for the sake of the abandonment of evil, unskillful qualities that have arisen. (iii) He generates desire, endeavors, activates persistence, upholds and exerts his intent for the sake of the arising of skillful qualities that have not yet arisen. (iv) He generates desire, endeavors, activates persistence, upholds and exerts his intent for the maintenance, non-confusion, increase, plenitude, development, and culmination of skillful qualities that have arisen: This, monks, is called right effort.

This is not a part-time hobby. If you want to be free, if you want to be in peace, if you want joy to be your default emotion, then you need to be vigilant. You need to want that more than anything else.

Notice the stages:

Desire for the non-arising of negative qualities;

Desire for the abandonment of negative qualities;

Desire for the arising of positive qualities; and, finally

Desire for the development of positive qualities.

While we could be doing all four of these things at once, it really is ultimately a process. First we need to deal with the negative qualities, and that creates the space for the positive qualities to arise and then develop. But mostly we hover somewhere around the first stage because really—let’s be honest—we haven’t decided this is important enough yet to put all our effort into. Hey, there’s school, and friends, and sports, and entertainment, and family, and work, and all those other things that require our energy. By the time we snuggle up in bed at the end of the day, we often find we simply haven’t had the space to put any remaining energy into right effort.

But until we do, we’ll just keep walking the spiritual treadmill; expending plenty of energy, and getting nowhere. So, all those times when you don’t have the energy or space to meditate, or when you find yourself lost, a long way off the noble eightfold path; those are the times we want to remind ourselves to give ourselves the effort we deserve. The right effort.

Notice. Identify a negative quality—something you think or do that is keeping you from realizing your true nature. What commitment can you make to yourself to transform this into a positive quality?

With desire comes commitment. The beauty of all this is that the only commitment you ever need make is to yourself.

Right mindfulness

And what, monks, is right mindfulness? (i) There is the case where a monk remains focused on the body in and of itself — ardent, aware, and mindful — putting away greed and distress with reference to the world. (ii) He remains focused on feelings in and of themselves — ardent, aware, and mindful — putting away greed and distress with reference to the world. (iii) He remains focused on the mind in and of itself — ardent, aware, and mindful — putting away greed and distress with reference to the world. (iv) He remains focused on mental qualities in and of themselves — ardent, aware, and mindful — putting away greed and distress with reference to the world. This, monks, is called right mindfulness.

So here’s that word everybody is talking about: mindfulness. In these terms, it is but one part of the whole, albeit an essential one (aren’t they all?).

Once you’ve put in the right effort with the right resolve, you will notice that right mindfulness begins to follow suit. Notice the steps to mindfulness: we first focus on the body; then feelings; then the mind; and finally on mental qualities. Those of us who practice mindfulness consciously may tell you that focusing on the mind isn’t too difficult—indeed, it can become a bit of an obsession for some—but focusing on mental qualities, now that is a trick. And it is that trick that shows us what mindfulness actually is.

So when you get bogged down focusing on your mind, just remember there’s another step. You could start by asking yourself, what are the mental qualities that mire you in the mud of your mind?

If my experience is anything to go by, answering this question could take years. Of course, there will be moments of mindfulness as you work at focusing on your mental qualities, and then you will start analyzing them, and then you’ll be back in your head again, and that is uncomfortable, so you’ll begin focusing on your feelings, and before you know it that irritating little pain in your neck will bring you back to your body, and you’re right back where you started. It happens a lot.

Notice. Get still and quiet, and begin watching what your mind does. Allow it to do whatever it wants, and just watch it. Don’t judge it, don’t try to change it, and most of all, don’t get absorbed in it. Just watch. 

There’s a reason they call this a practice: keep practicing! Meditate regularly, practice compassion, remember to notice things—even really familiar things—with curiosity. Neurons that fire together wire together, so start rewiring that mind now. When you’re truly mindful, now is the only time there is, after all.

Right concentration

And what, monks, is right concentration? (i) There is the case where a monk — quite withdrawn from sensuality, withdrawn from unskillful (mental) qualities — enters and remains in the first jhana: rapture and pleasure born from withdrawal, accompanied by directed thought and evaluation. (ii) With the stilling of directed thoughts and evaluations, he enters and remains in the second jhana: rapture and pleasure born of concentration, unification of awareness free from directed thought and evaluation — internal assurance. (iii) With the fading of rapture, he remains equanimous, mindful, and alert, and senses pleasure with the body. He enters and remains in the third jhana, of which the Noble Ones declare, ‘Equanimous and mindful, he has a pleasant abiding.’ (iv) With the abandoning of pleasure and pain — as with the earlier disappearance of elation and distress — he enters and remains in the fourth jhana: purity of equanimity and mindfulness, neither pleasure nor pain. This, monks, is called right concentration.

Purity of equanimity and mindfulness. That’s what we’re shooting for here. Imagine nothing ever phasing you. Imagine being completely present for every single moment. Imagine all those thoughts swirling about your head gone. Imagine the freedom.

You’ve heard about single-pointedness, right? Well, focusing on your breath is a straightforward form of this, but focusing on self-realization, that’s the singular point of single-pointedness; of right concentration.

All that sitting, all those walking meditations, all that chanting, even that yoga: it’s all just training for you to be able to maintain a single-minded focus for your self-realization.

So keep training. You may have a lot going on in your life right now, and all this just seems too hard. Well, do what you can. This may all seem like a great sacrifice, but what are you sacrificing? What is worth more to you—your ambitions or your peace of mind? Don’t answer that! Watch your actions, for they will tell you. The blueprint for peace is here, and most every one of us remains determined not to use it. Just remember what you’re choosing next time you shake your head at disharmony in the world, because the people engaging in it have essentially made the same choice as you—assuming they knew there was a choice to make.

You do. So pay attention, and choose wisely.

Notice. Give yourself some time to reflect on your day. As you review it, ask yourself, what did I let get in the way of right concentration? Don’t fight it, don’t beat yourself up over it, just notice all the blocks you put in your path to freedom. What can you commit to do differently next time?

Right view, right resolve, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration; together, this is truly the right stuff.

The Five Hindrances

Monks, there are these five hindrances. Which five? Sensual desire as a hindrance, ill will as a hindrance, sloth and drowsiness as a hindrance, restlessness and anxiety as a hindrance, and uncertainty as a hindrance. These are the five hindrances.

To abandon these five hindrances, one should develop the four frames of reference. Which four? There is the case where a monk remains focused on the body in and of itself — ardent, alert, and mindful — putting aside greed and distress with reference to the world. He remains focused on feelings in and of themselves... mind in and of itself... mental qualities in and of themselves — ardent, alert, and mindful — putting aside greed and distress with reference to the world. To abandon the five hindrances, one should develop these four frames of reference.

—Nivarana Sutta

Hindrances to awareness appear to be many, and the causes of these hindrances seem unlimited, yet this brief passage boils it all down to five hindrances and four ways to prevent them from popping up. The hindrances you should already be quite aware of: sensual desire, ill will, sloth and drowsiness, restlessness and anxiety, and uncertainty. If you haven’t experienced all of them—probably before lunch on any given day—then you are quite a remarkable person (or in denial). Recognize that each of these are getting in the way of your peace; keeping you from your buddhahood.

But remember, the hindrances are but a symptom, not a cause in themselves. The four frames of reference give you a big clue as to their cause:

The body;

Feelings;

The mind; and

Mental qualities.

Recognize these? Yes, these are the elements of right mindfulness! That’s right: mindfulness truly is the key to your peace of mind. When these elements are left unchecked and untamed, expect the hindrances to arise swiftly. And when you notice your body, your feelings, your mind and/or your mental qualities without judgment, without trying to change them—when you simply notice these things with curiosity—that is when the hindrances start to dissolve into the nothingness they truly are.

Notice. Find something that has been bothering you recently, and bring it to mind. Without judging anything, watch how you react to it: what sensations do you experience? what emotions do you feel? where does your mind go? and what is the nature of your mind as you react to it? Now, as you watch without judgment, notice who you are as the watcher. How do these two experiences differ?

It’s a fascinating journey, and it only leads in.

Loving Kindness

When it comes to the Buddha’s teachings, you will find many practitioners’ favorite thing to do is loving kindness (also known as metta). This is an opportunity to ‘spread the love’, so to speak, and can generate some seriously good vibes. 

Like any good meditation, we are ending this little volume with loving kindness, too. This particular loving kindness chant really says it all...

This is what should be done

By one who is skilled in goodness,

And who knows the path of peace:

Let them be able and upright,

Straightforward and gentle in speech,

Humble and not conceited,

Contented and easily satisfied,

Unburdened with duties and frugal in their ways.

Peaceful and calm and wise and skillful,

Not proud or demanding in nature.

Let them not do the slightest thing

That the wise would later reprove.

Wishing: In gladness and in safety,

May all beings be at ease.

Whatever living beings there may be;

Whether they are weak or strong, omitting none,

The great or the mighty, medium, short or small,

The seen and the unseen,

Those living near and far away,

Those born and to-be-born —

May all beings be at ease!

Let none deceive another,

Or despise any being in any state.

Let none through anger or ill-will

Wish harm upon another.

Even as a mother protects with her life

Her child, her only child,

So with a boundless heart

Should one cherish all living beings;

Radiating kindness over the entire world:

Spreading upwards to the skies,

And downwards to the depths;

Outwards and unbounded,

Freed from hatred and ill-will.

Whether standing or walking, seated or lying down

Free from drowsiness,

One should sustain this recollection.

This is said to be the sublime abiding.

By not holding to fixed views,

The pure-hearted one, having clarity of vision,

Being freed from all sense desires,

Is not born again into this world.

—Karaniya Metta Sutta

Many of us know a far simpler version of loving kindness, that goes something like, May you be happy, may you be well, may you be free from harm. The Karaniya Metta Sutta is a little more detailed, and instead of saying those things directly, gives the indication that it’s up to you to see all beings are happy, well, and free from harm.

These two stanzas are a succinct guide to living an enlightened life.

One should sustain this recollection. This is said to be the sublime abiding.

Notice. Read the Karaniya Metta Sutta meditatively. Pause and take in every line. What impact does wishing others well have on your psyche?

May you be at ease.

Jamie Reygle is the Executive Director of InStill Mindfulness SWVA, a nonprofit dedicated to instilling mindfulness in everyone in southwest Virginia. You can find out more about their work at

www.instillmindfulness.org