Sayadaw Tejaniya

Sayadaw: There are so many experiences we encounter day after day. We mostly react to everything we see, hear, smell, taste and touch with greed (lobha) and aversion (dosa). That is why the five sense objects are called the five strands of sensual pleasure (kāmaguṇa). If delusion (moha) is not present, then those five sense objects become mere objects of observation. They become dhamma objects (dhammārammaṇa).

If you include the mind, there are six sense objects. These six sense objects are arising all day long. The fact that they are arising is neither good nor bad. If there is pushing and pulling on them, then the mind is not truly knowing. If it's good and you like it, you pull it in; if it's bad and you don't like it, you will push it away. When the five sense objects are no longer the five strands of sensual pleasure but have become dhamma objects, only then will one begin to become disenchanted with these things. Only when they become dhamma objects will the characteristics of impermanence (anicca), suffering (dukkha), and non-self (anattā) become apparent. Only then will one reach the stage of dispassion.

What's happening now is that we are watching with awareness every day. In a moment, thinking "this smell is nice," we take in that smell; thinking "this taste is good," we take that in; with tactile contact, thinking "this texture is good," we end up liking it.

Right now, in my room, there is a shawl. Every time I touch it, a mind of liking arises. Its texture is very soft. Knowing this is not because I am forcefully aware of it. Every time I touch it, I know it. And I also know that the mind is liking it. I also know that the softness of the shawl and the liking are two separate things. Every day, whenever the five sense objects impinge, if there is no wisdom (paññā), then greed and aversion are strong. Even when looking with wisdom, the likes and dislikes are happening in many tiny ways.

Only when these likes and dislikes are no longer present will there be true peace. To put it in grand terms, only when mind-matter (nāma-rūpa) cease to arise will there be peace. There is a disenchantment with these mind-matter (nāma-rūpa) happenings. This "disenchantment" is not a disliking with aversion (dosa) – it's seeing the defilements (kilesa) as not beneficial. If you practice that intensely, you will become free. The path is very clear, anyway.

The acts of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching are impinging on the sense doors every day. We don't have to intentionally and deliberately chase after them to be aware of them. It's just knowing, merely knowing, and being aware of them. As mentioned before, the softness and the liking are happening by themselves. We are just knowing them, just being aware. That's why I often tell yogis that practicing Dhamma is not about doing something extremely strenuous. If the faculty of knowing is maintained and gains momentum over time, wisdom will come. For beginners, it's a bit different. For them, the wisdom is not very strong. You have to stir the wisdom a little bit, you see. You have to develop investigation-of-dhamma (dhammavicaya) a little. Later, when it becomes stronger and gains momentum, it's no longer necessary. Just know more; it will improve by itself. Just know the nature of the Dhamma (dhammasabhāva) more; you don't need to do anything else.

I realize that to gain understanding, for wisdom to arise, you don't need to forcefully chase after it. With that shawl I mentioned, every time I touch it, that mental state of liking arises. It is pleased with its texture. Whenever I think about it, it appears. Don't try to prevent it from happening. Instead of running around trying to prevent it from happening, just know it as it is. Only then will you understand more deeply. If you try to prevent it, if you suppress it, it's like you are blocking the wisdom. Then you won't understand. There is a taste in just going along suitably with how it's happening, knowing it, and then understanding dawning. The moment you turn your thoughts towards the Dhamma, the wisdom starts working. You just need to arouse the right thought (sammāsaṅkappa). If you recall it, the work of Dhamma practice happens by itself. Sometimes, of course, you forget. When mindfulness returns and you turn your thoughts back to the Dhamma, the Dhamma practice will happen by itself again. That’s why the saying goes: "If you don't do what is good, you will do what is bad; if you don't do what is bad, you will do what is good."

If delusion (moha) is present, then the five sense objects are the five strands of sensual pleasure. For the ordinary mind of a common worldling (puthujjana), the five sense objects are merely the five strands of sensual pleasure.

Yogi: I’ve been aware since this morning when I woke up. Also, at work, I keep my awareness continuous.

Sayadaw: What are you aware of?

Yogi: I’m aware of my thoughts – thinking, seeing, and looking – also aware of the movements of my body. When the awareness is strong, it's very supportive while driving. While driving, I’m aware of my hands, legs, sounds, and what I see. But sometimes, when I lose awareness, I have to try very hard to regain it.

 Sayadaw: Why is it very hard? When you lose awareness, just bring it back. Bring it back every time you lose awareness. This is the practice: "Losing and bringing back awareness." People who practice like you in daily life mainly have to do this. Yogis on retreat also do the same.

Yogi: One day, when I got back from work, I felt tired from keeping being aware. So, I played a Dhamma talk by Sayadaw U Jotika and lay down on my bed. At that time, my attitude was: "Whatever happens, let it happen," and I stopped trying to keep the awareness. I listened to Sayadaw’s talk and understood it. My mind cleared and cooled down when I relaxed.

Sayadaw: Okay. You need to check your attitude when trying to bring awareness back. Something is wrong in that process because you got tired. When you get tired, it's very clear that something is wrong. The attitude must be wrong if you’re meditating and getting tired.

We bring back awareness because we have to, and we do it patiently. If you bring it back impatiently or with the desire for a better situation, you will get tired. The attitude is wrong while bringing back the awareness. That's why you should always check your attitude. Some people aren’t patient when bringing back awareness.

Why do you bring back awareness? Is it because of worry? Or because you want a better situation?

Yogi: I try to bring back awareness because I believe that having continuous awareness is good.

Sayadaw: That's the point. The intention of having continuous awareness is very strong.

Yogi: Yeah, I feel dissatisfied when the awareness is not continuous.

Sayadaw: You feel dissatisfied because the intention of keeping continuous awareness has lobha (desire). Lobha is present, so when awareness is not continuous, you don’t like it.

You lost awareness. So what? You lost it, and you bring it back. Very simple. Keep it simple.

Yogi: Sayadaw, I practice mindfulness while eating. I eat with proper attention (yoniso manasikāra) and awareness. As you taught, I note the smell, the appearance of the food – all that is clear. There’s no problem. But when taste arises, so does craving (lobha). What should I do?"

Sayadaw: Let it happen. Just observe. Don’t suppress it, and don’t try to prevent it either.

Yogi: Understood, Sayardaw. I see it now. I watch the process and the craving itself. When the lobha is strong, sometimes awareness slips away.

Sayadaw: That’s the nature of craving. Food is its object. You’ve spent lifetimes eating with lobha, so it’s a deep habit. The moment taste contacts the tongue, craving rushes in.  

Yogi: I’ve had good experiences of practice in the past, but I’m not clinging to them now.

Sayadaw: Let go of the past. Forget it.

Yogi: My problem is this: before, when I came here, my mind would race – when I come to retreat, what will I do for a better practice? How will I make it happen? Now, it’s simpler. I only have thoughts like “I’ll eat this rice calmly”. That thought arises 3 to 4 times. Is this a problem? I want to eat peacefully without defilement, but I haven’t managed it yet.

Sayadaw:  Once, Shwe Oo Min Sayadawgyi asked a yogi to bring some cool water. The yogi rushed and brought it hastily. Sayadawgyi said, “Your water isn’t cool” – meaning the water was not cool because the yogi didn't bring it with a stable mind/cool mind. (Laughs) It’s like eating without fire or defilements.

 In meditation, we don’t suppress nature. If craving arises, let it. The important thing is to see the process clearly. Don’t try to block lobha, just watch. If you resist the lobha, it becomes adhammā (against the natural way). If the mind drifts, notice it. Even if mindfulness fades, just knowing is enough. Observe the entire process, from start to end.  

Good. Keep practicing this way. When lobha arises, just know it. The Buddha never taught forceful suppression. Vipassanā is about seeing things as they are. If your attitude is right from the start, even craving becomes Dhamma. Understand it as part of the truth.

Yogi: Sayadaw, I do meditate and also pay homage to the Buddha. I am aware of the sensations, and I also notice when they fade away. But my wisdom doesn’t seem to arise. I feel unsatisfied with my meditation practice.  

Sayadaw: What do you mean by wisdom? If wisdom is weak, there is a way to cultivate it by investigating. You need to examine a little: What is happening? Why is it happening? How is it happening? Mindfulness may be continuous, but if the field of awareness isn’t complete, wisdom won’t arise. Why is that? Think about it step by step. When something arises, it arises due to certain causes – ask yourself, “Why is this happening?” If you reflect like this, wisdom will start working.  

The nature of wisdom is to investigate, to examine; it doesn’t just stare blankly. If you’re just gazing vaguely, wisdom won’t be strong. If wisdom is weak, you need to stimulate it a little.  

Yogi: When I chant the Paṭṭhāna (Conditional Relations), I notice each word appearing and disappearing, but my wisdom still feels weak. Is that right?  

Sayadaw: Even though you say wisdom is weak, the fact that you know the words are disappearing means wisdom is already at work. Wisdom means discerning clearly, knowing in detail, understanding causes and effects. That’s what wisdom is. It knows defilements as they truly are, it knows when they arise and when they cease. If you can recognize these disappearances, that’s already wisdom.  

But if you don’t fully grasp what wisdom really is, you feel dissatisfied. So, observe that dissatisfied mind. Actually, wisdom is already working. If mindfulness is strong, wisdom will naturally follow. When understanding arises, you can ask questions, investigate: Why is this happening? Why doesn’t my mind feel clear, peaceful, or stable in meditation?  

Don’t strain after objects. If you force attention, wisdom weakens. Just observe naturally: see things as they are. If you try too hard to focus, your own assumptions interfere. Don’t strain to see more. Just maintain steady awareness.  

Don’t think, I must see changes, I must catch the arising and passing. If you try too hard to observe, your own effort distorts perception. You may see, but you won’t truly understand. Real understanding comes when the mind is naturally full of energy – then wisdom will arise on its own.  

So, just watch simply. See only what appears. When the mind gains strength, wisdom will do its job clearly. Occasionally, you can add a little investigation, but mostly, let it happen naturally. Understand? Just observe without forcing. When the mind is ready, wisdom will work by itself. Sometimes, you can gently prompt it with investigation, but don’t overdo it.

Yogi: While practicing, when an unwholesome state of mind arises, what should we do?

Sayadaw:  You should be happy because you’re aware of it. Don’t complain about the experience or what’s happening. Instead, appreciate the fact that you know it. The unwholesome mind is just an object, and the wholesome mind – awareness – is present at that moment. So, ask yourself: Should be happy or sad? You should appreciate the awareness!  

When I was young, my teacher, Shwe Oo Min Sayadawgyi, taught me:  "No matter how unwholesome your mind is, if you’re aware of it, you should be happy."  At the time, I loved this teaching deeply. It’s so open-minded. We don’t complain about defilements; we acknowledge them as natural phenomena.  

We’re not cultivating defilements, we’re cultivating awareness. So if you know the defilement, be happy! The mind is aware of it. Appreciate that awareness.  

Yet, yogis often complain about their experiences – the objects of meditation. But we emphasize awareness itself. Check: is awareness present or not? Don’t complain about defilements. Everyone has defilements – they’re strong habits, deeply conditioned, and arise swiftly. You can’t control them, but you can use them as objects of practice. This is how poison becomes medicine.  

Remember: Defilements are not ‘yours.’  

— Whose defilements? Yours?  

— Is lobha (greed) yours? No, lobha is just lobha.  

— Defilements are just defilements.  

You shouldn’t cultivate defilements; cultivate awareness instead. This is the practice of Dhammanupassanā (contemplation of phenomena). Use defilements as objects because they, too, are dhamma (natural phenomena).  

If you see things this way, defilements won’t be a problem. But if you think, "These defilements are mine," you’ll become depressed:  "Oh, my defilements! My mind is so bad, so dirty!"  

Don’t claim the mind as "yours". The mind is just the mind – it’s "nature".

Nun: I have been practicing meditation for some time and I read some of your books, so I understand about the right attitude and a little bit of your teaching. But now while I am studying at International Theravada Buddhist Missionary University, I found out that it's quite difficult for me to maintain the awareness in daily life. So I don't know how to balance between studying and practicing. Because while I was at the meditation centre it was easier. But here we have to study a lot, too many subjects, and many things to memorize. I cannot balance.

Sayadaw: So, don't focus. If you focus you cannot do both. If you focus too much, concentrate too much, you cannot do two things at the same time. Just recognize, be aware. Just keep knowing what you think, what you do. If you focus too much you cannot practice and you cannot learn. Right? So, awareness is not focusing. Just recognizing. Or remind yourself. Not to use force to concentrate. Keep reminding yourself. Keep asking yourself, “What is the mind knowing?” Now what object do you know? Just keep reminding yourself with questions. Let awareness be back. This is very easy. If you keep thinking about practice, some questions will already be present.

Difficult to maintain awareness means practice is not enough. If you concentrate it will be more difficult to maintain the awareness in daily life. So don't concentrate but be aware. Be aware means just recognizing yourself. Now do you know you are sitting? You can know, right? How difficult is it? Just like this. Now I am asking you a question and you recognize it. In daily life you ask yourself questions. Then awareness will come back. Bring it back again and again. Keep practicing day by day. The awareness will become natural. Then when you have enough practice, awareness will be there automatically. No need to force too much. But meditators concentrate too much then it becomes difficult to maintain the awareness. In daily life it becomes more difficult. The more you focus inside the more you cannot pay attention outside. Also vice versa, when you pay attention to the outside you forget to be aware of the inside.

Don't focus too much. Just keep reminding yourself. This is the “remindfulness” (laughs). Remind yourself. When you think about the body and mind, awareness is already there. “How do you feel?” “What do you know?” “What are you thinking?” ask these questions. We call it dhamma vicaya (investigation of the dhamma). This is the wisdom part. We do not practice concentrating too much. We practice with wisdom. Do you know sammasankappa (right thinking)? If you practice sammasankappa awareness is already present. Think about practice all the time. Then awareness will naturally come back again and again. Just like this, maintain the awareness, keep practicing day by day. Whatever you do, remind yourself “What is the mind knowing?”. 

Not very difficult. Awareness is not very difficult. What is difficult is continuous awareness. Being aware of yourself is not difficult. So make it become a habit. Habit will become second nature. Wherever you go don't forget to remind yourself. Even when going to the toilet ask yourself “Are you aware?” Use the right thinking (sammasankappa) in practice.

Yogi: I am confused between attachment and responsibilities.  

Sayadaw: Attachment is when you want to hold onto something, take it, or possess it. When it doesn’t happen or you can’t achieve it, you suffer – that is attachment. Responsibility, on the other hand, is simply doing what needs to be done. Responsibility is wisdom in action: considering how to do it, whether you should, whether it’s needed or necessary. The result doesn’t matter.  

When you are attached to something ie: a condition or an outcome, and you get it, you feel very happy. But when you can’t get it or hold onto it, you suffer. If what you’re attached to is broken or lost, you suffer deeply. This is the nature of attachment.  

Yogi: Sometimes, emotions are so strong. What should I do?  

Sayadaw: There’s nothing to do. Just observe the emotion with the right attitude. Remember, this is not yours. When you start thinking, "This is happening because of me," emotions arise. Instead, use the feeling or emotion as an object of awareness. It’s just nature. Be aware of it. Learning about emotions and how to handle them is very important. You must watch the feeling. This is the only way to deal with it. There is no other way.

Everything that exists is based on cause and effect. As it is said, "Ye dhammā hetuppabhavā" – all phenomena arise from causes. Whatever happens has a reason. All that occurs is nothing but cause and effect. You will understand to the extent you can. Nothing happens without a cause. There is always a reason. If you have the wisdom to perceive it, you will know. If you cannot yet perceive it, you simply don’t see it. As your wisdom grows stronger, you will continuously recognize causes and effects. It’s like mindfulness.  

First, strive to maintain continuous mindfulness. Once wisdom arises and you reach the stage of discernment, you must then strengthen that wisdom, just as you cultivate mindfulness. In the beginning, mindfulness is weak, so you have to repeatedly bring it back, again and again. Similarly, once wisdom begins to arise, and if it gradually develops through continuous practice, eventually, the moment you look, wisdom will already be present.  

At first, wisdom follows whilst mindfulness leads. You apply mindfulness, observe, investigate, understand, and gradually, wisdom follows and joins in. Mindfulness and wisdom come together. Wisdom can only accompany a mindful mind. That’s why you must cultivate mindfulness. When mindfulness becomes strong, wisdom will also grow stronger. And when wisdom becomes strong, mindfulness and wisdom will work together. Once you fully comprehend, you can simply observe with wisdom.  

In the beginning, since wisdom is not yet present, you cannot observe with it. Wisdom gathers understanding. When practicing meditation, what matters is what you come to understand and realize. Merely knowing what is happening is not enough; you must also perceive the cause and effect. Only then will you know why. This is still only the second level of wisdom.  

"Nāmarūpa paccaya dukkhā ñāṇa" – the wisdom that discerns the cause and effect of mind and matter. This is not knowledge gained from others’ words but from your own practice and direct experience. Only then can you progress further. Only then can higher stages of wisdom arise. Without this wisdom, you cannot advance and you will fall away.  

Even in meditation practice, you must know how to practice. The wisdom of how to practice must come first.

Yogi: I have a problem with my family members. My friend told me to forget about that problem and let it go. It’s easy to say "let it go," but in reality, it’s difficult.

Sayadaw: Letting go isn't easy for you, so you need to practice mental exercises or engage in activities. When the mind is occupied with mental exercise, it naturally forgets to think about the problem. That’s why we stay aware all the time to keep the mind occupied. When the mind keeps being aware of the present moment, it cannot think too much.

When thoughts arise, don’t follow them or get caught in the storyline. Just acknowledge that the mind is thinking, then direct your awareness back to bodily sensations. You can’t stop thoughts from appearing, but you can stop yourself from continuing the thinking. Avoid exaggerating the storyline. This is why we cultivate awareness – when you’re fully aware, there’s no room for thinking.

Yogi: Every time I think about that person, anger comes up.

Sayadaw: Since anger arises when you think of them, make the anger itself the object to be aware of, to observe. Watch the anger each time it comes – don’t pay attention to the person or the past or the storyline. Just observe the feeling. Also, ask yourself why the mind reacts with anger. This reflection helps you see the nature of anger clearly.

Change the attitude. Change the idea. The mind will forget to think about this object (i.e., the "person" or the storyline). Firstly, take care of the suffering. When you truly understand anger, it can no longer overwhelm you.

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*Transcriber's Summary:

This summary is central to working with defilements like anger, and it involves a direct shift in our approach, building on Sayadaw's initial guidance:

1. Straighten the wrong attitude, straighten the wrong view/idea:

1a. Shift Attention: Instead of giving attention to the external source of irritation (e.g., the "someone" or the storyline).

1b. Turn Inward: Come closer to the internal experience of suffering itself – the anger arising within your own mind.

2. Keep the Mind Occupied with Consistent Awareness: As Sayadaw explains, when the mind is engaged in mental exercise or stays aware of the present moment, it naturally becomes less absorbed in problematic thoughts. This consistent awareness keeps the mind from thinking "too much."

3. Investigate Directly: As you observe this internal object, you can question and learn why the mind reacts with anger in that specific situation.

4. Right Attitude, Right View/Idea, Right Learning: This internal suffering becomes the proper object for meditation and direct observation. This approach leads to genuine insight and freedom from its overwhelming nature.

Sayadaw: Yesterday, before exercising, I did sitting meditation. After meditating, I did my physical workout. Throughout the physical exercise, my stability of mind (samādhi) didn't decrease. The body got tired, yes, but the mind remained calm and steady – I just kept observing that stability of mind. I wasn't focusing on the physical movements, yet I was fully aware of them. Why? Because the mind's attention was anchored in that stable, meditative state. The physical movements were just happening on their own. There's no need to over-analyze them. If I shifted mindfulness to the body, the mind would wander. The mind's stability is what matters most. So I maintained that unwavering stability while exercising.

Yogi: For me, when I get tired, the mind starts to waver.

Sayadaw: Even when tired, it's possible to be tired peacefully. I was peacefully exhausted. The body tires ("huffing and puffing"), but the mind stays calm.

Yogi: Is this because of the stability of mind (samādhi) or wisdom?

Sayadaw: The stability of mind persists when the mind continuously observes it. It only breaks when mental cravings arise. Here, there's no craving – no urge to finish the exercise section or achieve something. The mind is just doing it. That's why the stability of mind deepens. When craving arises, stability of mind breaks. Tiredness itself isn't the problem.

Yogi: So you're aware of the awareness mind and stability of mind while also watching the nature of tiredness on the other side?

Sayadaw: Tiredness is already known. When mindfulness+wisdom is strong, the mind is already aware of everything clearly. No need to deliberately focus on tiredness – it's obvious. Mindfulness+wisdom prioritizes and maintains the calm, stable mind as its essential anchor, and everything else falls into place naturally.

Yogi: According to this, what I understand is Sayadaw keeps going with non-self (anattā) wisdom most of the time. Also, an understanding of tiredness "as it is" is present. With this non-self (anattā) wisdom, the mind faces every situation calmly. We don't have that kind of wisdom, so we are often defeated.

Sayadaw: When death approaches, the body will struggle – gasping, fighting. Most people panic, and then unpleasant mental feeling (domanassa) comes up. But if equanimity (upekkhā) is happening, even in that final moment, the mind can remain calm. Even while gasping, one can maintain stability of mind.

Let me give examples: My teacher, Shwe Oo Min Sayadawgyi, when dying, his body kept jerking up and down, gasping. Sayadawgyi was in a coma, yet his body moved. Then suddenly his consciousness returned briefly – eyelids fluttering – we thought he was recovering, but then he passed peacefully. And my father, when his time came, was also gasping. But his mind still had consciousness. At the final moment, he suddenly raised his hands in anjali (prayer gesture) to me. He recognized me as a monk and also knew me as his son. I am glad that I had a chance to make him peaceful before he passed away.

We will also face this one day. Even with the body gasping, we can practice now to keep the mind peaceful through the right attitude.

Yogi: You're describing seeing all this as "not me, not mine" (non-self (anattā) wisdom)?

Sayadaw: Yes. This wisdom is gold. If you live as a Buddhist and don't realize non-self (anattā), it's not worth it.

Yogi: So mental stability comes from non-self (anattā)?

Sayadaw: Absolutely. It's deeper – understanding causes and effects. These phenomena arise and pass on their own. They're not "you."

Yogi: But can't someone have stability of mind without this wisdom?

Sayadaw: Many do! They keep very calm with concentration, but still get angry. Strong concentration can exaggerate defilements. Because concentration (samādhi) also does an exaggerated (amplified) job.

Yogi: Non-self (anattā) wisdom has levels? Just intellectual understanding isn't enough?

Sayadaw: Correct. You must cultivate it daily – like mindfulness. At first, you repeatedly remind yourself. Later, it becomes automatic. When mindfulness arises, wisdom should already be there – no need to force it. That's why I ask yogis: "Are you still reminding yourself to have the right attitude, or is it already natural?" If you're still struggling to recall it, the wisdom isn't strong enough.

Yogi: Sayadaw, on the first day I meditated, it felt very peaceful. The next day, I expected the same experience, but it wasn't the same. I kept wondering why the first day felt so good.

Sayadaw: Good. You should ask yourself that question. If it feels good, you should understand why. If it doesn't, you should also understand why.

Yogi: When it felt good, my mind was light and calm. But the next day, it wasn't the same.

Sayadaw: It depends on the state of your mind. Whether meditation feels good or not is influenced by what was happening in your mind before you sat down. The momentum of the mind quality carries over. If the mind was restless before meditating, it won't settle immediately. The levels of mindfulness, concentration, and wisdom are always changing. When the mind quality is good, meditation feels easier.

But for someone who is skilful in meditation, they can meditate well anytime they want. Why? Because the mind is at ease, generating wholesome thoughts (kusala citta). The key is having the right attitude. Even if the mind isn't perfectly still, a skilled meditator remains peaceful and accepting. Whether meditation feels 'good' doesn't depend on the place, time, or posture. Some think sitting is best; others prefer walking. But these are just preferences – what truly matters, is the right attitude. When the right attitude is present, a wholesome mind will happen.  Wholesome mind gives peace as a result. Cultivate the wholesome mind. 

People often cling to what once worked – a certain spot, time, or posture – and keep chasing that same feeling. This is attachment, wrong view.

I remember once my nephew was playing with a Bang Snap fireworks. Sometimes it would pop, sometimes it wouldn't because the quality is not very good. One day, I told him to try hitting it from a higher spot. And then he went to the higher place and threw it onto the ground and “Bang” it exploded. He felt very happy when it worked, and he kept going back to that same spot the next day, believing that high place was the only way. Even when the fireworks didn't pop, he insisted on that spot. He'd become attached.

True ease in meditation comes from the right thinking and right attitude. If you meditate with lobha (craving), the result won't be good. If you meditate with dosa (aversion), it won't work. It will work when you meditate with the right attitude and cultivate a wholesome mind state.

Knowing the reason why the mind cannot accept a situation is better than just trying to accept it. Many yogis often say, “I'm trying to accept this, trying to accept that.” Why do you do this so much? This method is for beginners who don't have much meditation experience. They don't know the mind, so they only know how to "try to accept." That's okay for them.

But if you are a long-time meditator and know how to watch the mind—if you can know whatever is happening in the mind, including the defilements—then you should try to know about them. When you are "trying to accept," it means you can't accept. The mind does not accept the condition, so you are forcing it to. This is not the most effective method.

If you see resistance, simply watch that resistance. It's that simple. Then the resistance will become zero. The unacceptable state of mind will be gone. When true acceptance comes, the mind's quality will change a lot. That is the better way.

Many yogis continue to follow the instructions they received at the beginning of their practice. They try to accept, try to accept, and the mind seems to calm down. But at the unconscious level, the mind is not calm. When you watch the mind's resistance and that resistance is gone, the mind's quality immediately changes right-side up. The right attitude and wisdom will also come.

That is the better way, so don't try to accept too much. Instead, try to watch why the mind is not accepting. That method is more realistic. With this method, the mind will make real changes. Otherwise, it can only accept at a surface level.

Practicing meditation can cure diseases, but it doesn’t mean that all the diseases will always be cured when you meditate. Only when you are skilled in meditation and wisdom arises, will things improve. Nowadays, people aren’t proficient in meditation. They meditate thinking it will bring them happiness, but when they don’t experience the happiness they expected, they become even more frustrated. They come to meditate hoping that sitting will bring them happiness, craving that happiness. That’s why when people come to the meditation centre, I always ask them, "Why did you come to practice?" I ask about their motivations – what is their purpose in coming to meditate? Most of them aren’t here to truly understand the Dhamma; they come because they’re distressed and think meditation will make them happy.  

It’s somewhat true that meditation can relieve suffering. Once, a group from Taiwan came to one meditation centre in Myanmar to practice. After they left, one of them wrote a book in Chinese entitled ‘Practicing Meditation Cures Diseases’. People who read that book came to that centre thinking that meditating there would cure their diseases. They came with the intention of healing.  

After practicing for about six months, they already got headaches, and their conditions deteriorated. One yogi, lost and confused, ended up coming to us. When I talked to him, it became clear that his attitude toward meditation was wrong. He was practicing solely because he read that book and wanted to cure his disease. They all thought they were suffering even more because of meditation, realizing that new diseases had appeared that they didn’t have before. The whole group was suffering from headaches. Only after we corrected their attitudes and intentions, and had them restart their practice properly, did things improve for them. They had fixated only on the idea that meditation cures diseases.  

This body is sustained by four factors: kamma (past actions), citta (mind), utu (climate), and ahara (nutrition). When it comes to which diseases meditation can cure, it mostly alleviates those caused by the mind – conditions like heart issues or stomach acid reflux improve quickly. But diseases caused by kamma may not disappear. You also have to adjust utu (climate) and ahara (nutrition). Kamma can improve too – through meditation and good deeds, the physical conditions influenced by kamma and mind can improve. But not everything can be fixed. If past kamma is very severe, even then, it may not change.  

If you practice meditation with greed, hoping to cure diseases or fulfil desires, you’re already wrong. What’s worse is that when you practice with craving and don’t get what you want, that greed turns into anger, leading to frustration. Some people even stop meditating altogether out of resentment.  

When Shwe Oo Min Sayadawgyi was still alive, I once met one of his students. He had completed Dhammacariya (a Buddhist studies degree) but later disrobed and started a goldsmith business. He was chanting Buddhānussati with the intention of improving his business. He was chanting it sincerely and diligently, but he didn’t put effort into upgrading his business, keeping up with trends, or innovating. He just relied on Buddhānussati, thinking it alone would bring him success. As he kept only chanting, his business declined until he had to shut it down. He then came to complain to Shwe Oo Min Sayadawgyi, even doubting the Buddha.  

At that time, I had just become a monk. Shwe Oo Min Sayadawgyi asked me to explain, so I told him what I’ve just explained – that practicing meditation is partly about calming the mind. Buddhānussati brings mental stillness, but business success doesn’t depend solely on that. A calm mind leads to wisdom, which helps you see what needs to be done and how to do it – that’s how business improves. He hadn’t fulfilled all the necessary conditions. Just chanting Buddhānussati might bring mental peace, but business success requires more. Because of his misguided approach, he even developed wrong views about the Buddha. When things don’t go as expected, people’s beliefs can become distorted.  

That’s why meditation isn’t just about calming the mind – it’s just one part. After that, you must do what needs to be done and fulfil the necessary conditions. Expecting results is the nature of greed; the nature of wisdom is fulfilling the causes. People don’t understand these principles, so they act on assumptions and make mistakes. As a result, their minds remain unsettled, and doubts gradually arise. When you meditate, mindfulness, concentration, and wisdom grow stronger – the mind becomes calm and peaceful. Then, you must think about what to do and how to do it.

This morning, after having the breakfast meal, I felt very sleepy. While feeling drowsy, the mind realized that the sleepiness wasn't "I." Since then, the way of practicing is by observing whatever phenomenon arises in this body and mind – whether mental or physical – and asking: What is being taken as "I"? What is being mistaken for "I"? The mind constantly investigates like this.  

For example, when dullness or drowsiness arises, I recognize that it’s not "I," not a person, not a being. If doesn’t realize this, it will cling to it as "I." So, the mind keeps examining. Sometimes, what is seen is mistaken as "I." The mind observes these moments closely. What is being assumed as "I"? Where does the delusion of "I" arise? Keep on paying extra attention to this.  

Whether it’s an object, a body part, or the whole body, the mind checks: What is being misperceived as "I"? When it sees it clearly, that part is no longer "I." It becomes clear and is dissolved. Once one part is understood, everything else opens up – because it’s all the same, isn’t it?  

But when mindfulness and wisdom are absent, the mind clings to thoughts like: "I’m sleepy," "My mind is dull," "My mind," "My body." When wisdom is strong, there’s no person, no being – only anattā (non-self).  

This is how I practice lately. Before, it uses mindfulness. Now, use wisdom to observe: What is being taken as "I"? The mind watches the interplay of delusion (moha) and wisdom (ñāṇa). With delusion, there’s "I"; with wisdom, the "I" disappears. Even drowsiness becomes dhamma (natural phenomenon) – how beautiful is that? At that moment, sleepiness isn’t "I" so the mind settles naturally. How liberating! It’s so simple – just recognizing what’s already there. Very liberating.  

It’s not about forcing concentration first to stop perceiving "I." Instead, the mind takes the dullness itself as the object and cultivates clear awareness of it. When mindfulness settles, wisdom arises. Now, it happens more easily, just a little attention, and wisdom comes. At first, it wasn’t easy; it took persistent effort. Not even sure wisdom will arise once a day. But now, with just a slight reminder, wisdom appears.  

It's not deliberately changing anything, just seeing things as they are. Sleepiness isn’t transformed into something "good"; it’s simply understood truthfully. How peaceful it is! The mind settles naturally, just seeing sleepiness as it is: not "I". 

Day by day, whether seeing, hearing, or experiencing anything, the mind watches: What is being mistaken for "I"? Keep investigating. When wisdom arises, it becomes clear: This is not "I." Recently, while observing this, the mind noticed that although other things weren’t taken as "I", but the talking is seen as “I”.  So, I keep investigating that idea of “I”. The idea of "I" is always lurking somewhere.

Sayadaw: Just now, I was thinking about the connection between objects and the mind. Depending on the object, various mental states arise. Here, "object" refers to experiences – what is seen, heard, and so on. When people encounter pleasant sense objects, they feel happy; when they encounter unpleasant ones, their minds suffer. This is the nature of ordinary people.  

However, true meditators no longer depend on objects. For them, mental happiness or suffering depends on the “process of the mind itself”. Even when they are physically unwell, they can maintain mental happiness. Ordinary people, when sick, become irritable, right? Because the body is in discomfort. When unpleasant sensations arise in the body, anger arises. Why? Because they desire comfort. Since greed (lobha) and aversion (dosa) are at work, they crave pleasant experiences and cannot bear unpleasant ones, leading to frustration.  

But a true meditator is different. When they are unwell, mindfulness (sati) and stability (samādhi) actually improve. Why? Because they do not perceive it as suffering or as something "bad." They see it from the perspective of Dhamma. When sick, they observe with mindfulness – their attention becomes more focused. The mind no longer wanders externally. They have no urge to engage in activities, so awareness remains fixed on the body. The body’s true nature becomes clearer – fatigue, pain, soreness, stiffness – all become vividly apparent. Since the mind turns inward, and they already understand these as mere phenomena, they accept them with the right attitude. As a result, sati and samādhi strengthen. The mind no longer drifts outward; when unwell, they have no desire to do anything. Thus, the mind turns inward, mindfulness arises, and wisdom is present. In this state, their practice deepens, and they naturally attain mental peace. Even amid illnesses, their minds remain happy. What makes the difference? Wisdom. The difference lies in perception, understanding and attitude. Thus, they no longer depend on objects.  

Most ordinary people, however, rely on objects. Pleasant objects bring mental joy (somanassa), while unpleasant ones bring mental distress (domanassa). This is the habitual pattern of minds clouded by delusion (moha). For meditators, sense objects are no longer primary. If their reflection (manasikāra) and attitude toward the object are correct, they can use any object as a basis for mental happiness. They can take even a bad experience and cultivate mindfulness, concentration, and wisdom from it. Isn’t that wonderful? This is possible because of wisdom (paññā). It’s like turning poison into medicine. On its own, poison brings harm, but with wisdom, it becomes medicine. True meditators have understood the nature of mind and body. That’s why they practice.

Sayadaw:  Whether it's anger or any other mental state, depending on the intensity of its arising, its momentum lingers, and its energy remains. Once, at the previous Shwe Oo Min monastery, since it was our monastery, I would go to the Dhamma hall to meditate during my usual sitting time. But another monk insisted on forcing me to meditate at a scheduled time. Even when I stayed in my room, he would come looking and make me go and sit at the Dhamma hall. So I went and sat, but while meditating, I was fuming. As I sat, thoughts arose: 'Who does he think he is? Why is he forcing me to sit like this?' Anger kept flaring up. The mind was in conflict the whole time. After about half an hour sitting like this, I suddenly realized, 'Oh, I'm not actually meditating, I'm just fighting in my mind!' Once I became aware of this, I shifted back to meditation.  

After a full hour, when I finished sitting, the anger was still there. It hadn't disappeared, it was still present. Even though I stopped cultivating it with more thoughts and focused on mindfulness instead, the anger remained. Its momentum was still there. So I kept watching the anger. Even after leaving the Dhamma hall, I continued watching it mindfully until I reached my room. The moment I opened the door, it completely vanished. The anger was completely extinguished. The difference between its presence and absence was very obvious. The burning experience suddenly turned into coolness.  

Yogi:  Venerable, why did it disappear the moment you opened the door? Was it because of a belief?  

Sayadaw: It wasn't the act of opening the door itself that made it disappear. The anger had been carried all the way up to that point. I had been continuously watching it, 'It's still here, it's still here,' until the moment I opened the door. Then suddenly, it was gone. Its momentum had ceased. It wasn't due to any special insight or wisdom. There was no profound thought, just continuous watching. While watching, I suddenly realized it was completely gone. The mind became clear in an instant. The difference between its presence and absence was striking.  

It wasn't insight that did it. It was the strength of mindfulness. As the power of awareness grew stronger on one side, the anger gradually weakened on the other side, until it finally collapsed. At that moment, I experienced the complete disappearance of anger – something I had never understood before. Right then, I felt thankful to that monk in my heart. With no trace of anger left, I went and apologized to him. Because of this incident, I gained that realization.  

At that time, there was no special understanding or sudden profound insight – just a clear experience. I knew truly the absence of anger. Anger persists as long as it has the conditions to arise. But when it's no longer allowed to arise, it ends; it stops. By relentlessly noticing it – while sitting, walking, even up to opening the door, the mindfulness was consistent to reach a certain level, and the anger vanished.

Yogi: Lately, what I’ve understood is that when Sayadaw observes something, for example, anger, you simply watch whether there is any anger left. How much is still there? The intention is to understand it, not to change it into a better experience or to get rid of it.

But for me, when I observe an experience, there’s often an underlying intention to change it into something better. I notice myself watching with that desire. So the question arises: Am I trying to understand, or am I trying to change? The intention to truly understand doesn’t come immediately. What should I do? Should I keep watching that desire to change?

Sayadaw: Yes, you should be aware of it. Simply knowing is enough.

Yogi: I see. Only when I’m aware of it can I fully accept the present moment as it is.

Sayadaw: That’s correct. When you know it, when you’re aware of it, it will fade away on its own.

Yogi: Yet when I engage in self-inquiry, examining whether my practice is truly rooted in immediate understanding, I confront the honest realization that it is not.

Sayadaw: It’s enough to honestly acknowledge the current state of mind. With continued awareness, the wrong ideas will fade. The wisdom depends on the strength of the awareness. If awareness is strong, wisdom will follow quickly. If it’s weak, it may take time – you’ll need to cultivate it until it becomes strong.

Yogi: And the intention to change the experience to a better situation is always there.

Sayadaw: That shows the yogi is not yet very skilful in practice. When people are unskilful, they want defilements to disappear or they want them to change into something better.

Just because nothing has happened yet and the mind feels good doesn’t mean your meditation is really going well. If the mind feels good just because many things are going smoothly in life, that’s also not the real thing. There’s a saying, “The defilements you haven’t faced are at peace on their own.” In other words, things are fine simply because nothing has happened yet. Because nothing bad has happened yet, you are living comfortably by nature, with no need to put in any effort, and even no need to practice. And then the mind takes that state as the truth.

For many of us, most things are going well; life is going as we like. Yet even so, we still feel like complaining about the tiniest inconveniences.

Look at a nun who has cancer and is in constant pain. She is in pain all the time, truly experiencing suffering almost every moment. She can no longer avoid it – she has to accept it. By nature, when the mind truly encounters something and endures it for a long time, it eventually accepts it. But we don’t see her constantly complaining.

It makes me think – when our own time draws near to death, we will be in constant pain too. To be at peace at that time, we must have already trained ourselves, starting now. We must have encountered much hardship. If we only ever experience good times, then when misfortune strikes, we’ll end up crying out.

The point is: we must stay aware, stay awake. Even when nothing is happening, we must know, remain aware, and stay alert. The fact that nothing bad is happening is not the ultimate truth; it’s not reality as it truly is. When nothing bad is happening, we must still be awake and mindful. If we can truly remain in equanimity during peaceful times, then when hardships come, we will also be able to remain in equanimity. But if, during good times, we are not in equanimity and lack wisdom – drifting along in delusion and forgetfulness – then certainly, when the bad times come, we will suffer.

I have been reflecting on this when I look at sick people. The other day, I saw an old lay yogi who was seriously ill. Her face still looked bright. Her body was almost completely weakened, clearly in a very difficult condition, yet she was still able to bear it with calmness. In such a state, to be able to live as she was – that’s admirable.

As for us, when we are still healthy, having a steady (samādhi) and peaceful mind is not something especially remarkable. We need to think about that truthfully. In good times, we should not live with delusion; we must stay alert and mindful, remaining on the middle path. If we don’t do that, we will surely swing over to the pleasant side. Why is it that people who have been living well for a long time fall apart when they start to experience hardship? Because they enjoyed that pleasant moment with delusion (moha).

Sometimes in the morning, upon waking from a deep sleep, the body feels well and even the blood pressure is normal. In those moments, the mind feels pleasant and cheerful. But wisdom does not accept that as “true well-being.” Sometimes the mind even says, “This feels so good,” just like when we were young and would exclaim, “So nice! So great!”

We should not live at either extreme – stay in the middle. No matter how well things are going, return to the middle. Be aware, and remain there. This pleasant state is just a condition; it’s not something to cling to, and it cannot be labelled as “good.” It’s simply the result of various causes coming together. If we live with that understanding, we will incline more toward equanimity and not drift toward extremes.

Even without facing severe hardships, we may still be healthy and living comfortably. In such times, the mind may not be overly restless; stability of mind (samādhi) may be strong, and the mind may seem peaceful. But that is not the truth.

Sayadaw: The other day while I was alone doing physical exercise, the mind settled deeply inward. Mentally, there was counting of exercise repetitions, the knowing mind, the desiring mind, sensations, feelings – as I became aware of all these one by one separately, everything appeared as just a collection of phenomena, and the self-entity disappeared.

When everything was seen as mere aggregates, there was no idea of a self-being. It wasn't that “I” ceased to exist, but rather the idea of “I” vanished. I saw everything performing its own function – like a car being dismantled part by part. When taken apart piece by piece, the concept of a car disappears. The more you see these separate components, the more the solid notion of self dissolves away.

Yogi: This reminds me of what I heard at a foreign meditation centre. They taught that when one sees the five aggregates (khandhas) working separately, the notion of “I” disappears.

Sayadaw: That's correct. Indeed. When you see each function working independently then the illusion of ‘self’ collapses. The intending mind intending, the feeling mind feeling, the knowing mind knowing, sense objects being just objects, the counting mind counting by itself. 

Ideas come and go too. Sometimes the mind plans to do 30 repetitions but stops at 25. When it wants to stop it stops by itself.  Sometimes the mind plans to complete till 30 repetitions but stops doing before reaching the goals. The mind keeps changing like this. Just like that the mind is always changing. During physical exercise, there's so much to observe – the mind keeps transforming constantly, ideas keep changing all the time. So which idea could you possibly call “my idea”?

The five aggregates exist merely as a collection. Nothing can be claimed as mine. The intending mind does its own work, ideas arise by themselves, counting happens automatically, thoughts think themselves. No two functions are alike. Each operates according to its own nature.

Sayadaw: Last night in my dream, my mobile phone got lost and problems arose in the mind. At first, the mind became agitated and suffered quite a bit. Then the mind started applying Dhamma to calm itself down. Even in the dream, the mind began accepting the situation. When the phone was lost, the mind thought "What can I do now?" and started considering necessary steps. Even in the dream, it refused to mentally suffer – thinking about resetting accounts and handling necessary tasks. Though physically asleep, the mind wasn't resting.

Yogi: Is it because the mind has formed its own habitual pattern, a behavioural routine?

Sayadaw: Yes. The mind has developed a pattern of maintaining happiness and automatically works to restore peace. It avoids creating suffering. These mental patterns are actually quite funny. Observe anyone – everyone has their own habitual patterns.

There's one yogi who tends to worry excessively. When it rains in her town, since landslides sometimes occur, she becomes so anxious at night that she can't sleep. I'm amazed how her unsettled mind prevents sleep. Most meditators fall asleep quickly after preparing for bed, but people who worry keep worrying.

In her town, there are indeed landslide-prone areas, but the places she worries about are completely different locations, very far away. Where she lives, landslides are quite unlikely. Even if it happened, what could be done? Just accept it. But why such extreme anxiety over such remote possibilities? This is her habitual pattern. With such a tendency to worry, she constantly anticipates problems. We must transform these old patterns rather than accept them.

The yogi should observe the worrying mind. When the worry disappears, right understanding will arise. This is how meditators work. We must practice this way. By consistently noting these old patterns instead of accepting them, the mind will transform, and ideas will change. Gradually, this practice of observation itself becomes the new pattern: "When something happens, observe it with the right attitude, the mind changes, perspectives shift" – we must reach this stage.

Most people are just aware of it – the emotion disappeared – and stop at that superficial level. They don't investigate whether their fundamental ideas have actually changed. If ideas truly transform, the habitual patterns will gradually change too.

Everyone has patterns – angry people habitually get angry, greedy people habitually crave.