A Million Thoughts

by Om Swami

  “And then what?” he questioned curiously. “Nothing. Just watch it grow.”

  “Are you serious?” the seeker exclaimed. “Have I traveled thousands of miles to watch grass grow? I thought you would teach me meditation.”

  “This is meditation, son,” the master replied calmly. “If I say anything more, it would be just commentary. Be here, now.”

  “This is it?”

  “This is it,” the master replied calmly. “To see everything as it is requires perfect stillness of the mind. Silence is the way to meditation.”

  The teacher did not shift his gaze that was settled at a distant point in the mountains.

  “And what is the way to silence then?” “Meditation.”

  “And how exactly do I meditate?” he said extremely frustrated. “Watch the grass grow.”

  “You are truly mad,” the student yelled. “To hell with you. I’m out of here.”

  He took his bag and moved to the exit.

  “And where is here?” the master said smilingly.

  The frustrated seeker screamed a few slurs, swore some more, put on his shoes and left that place.

  It’s not easy – to be here now. To be in the present moment. You sit down to meditate and you are merrily meditating when you hear your phone buzz. You have decided to let nothing disturb your meditation.

  I am not going to take that. It can wait.

  A few moments pass and a voice in your head says, “Are you sure? It could be important.”

  Whoever it is, they can wait.

  “I admire your persistence, but let’s be honest, you are not going to be a Buddha in one day. It’s okay to get up and just see who it was.”

  No, I’m meditating.

  “I like it.”

  You resume your meditation but at the back of your mind the phone is there. It’s quite at the back but somewhere it’s robbed you off the peace and enthusiasm you’d sat down with. You feel a bit restless but you’ve decided you are not getting up.

  “Hey, did you check the features of iPhone 6s? It’s really cool,” the voice in your head says.

  I’m meditating. I’m meditating. I’m meditating.

  “You know no one can match Steve Jobs when it comes to innovation. You should at least see the new phone. You don’t have to buy it. And what about that hottie across the counter? She was definitely checking you out, buddy.”

  Go away! I’m meditating…

  But your enthusiasm is dying now like the flickering flame of a candle that’s at the end of its life. And the image of the hot girl has replaced your tranquil thoughts. For a moment you wonder if she was actually checking you out.

  “Did you not notice the way she looked at you so many times?” the voice in your head continues. “Although, I think you could have worn a better shirt. I’ve no idea why didn’t you tell your wife that you didn’t like the shirt when she got it for you. Why do you always give in when it comes to Monica? You weren’t like that before.”

  God! How I hate confronting her. Why can’t she dress like that girl? We’ve only been married two years and she looks like my mother.

  Heck, she even sounds like my mother. My married life sucks…

  “I tell you what, we’ll worry about meditation later. Let’s check out that phone. You might even see the same girl again… meditation can wait.”

  This is the story of most people when they try to meditate. The moment you answer back to your mind and begin communicating with it, the voice in the head wins.

  The truth is that the mind is always talking. It is never silent. On the path of meditation the transformation of mind from a restless monkey to a docile cow happens in four stages. Experience of sustained and deep silence is not simply about feeling the bliss of quietude. It’s much more than that.

  One of the most amazing things you discover is a radical change in how you see the world around you – nothing provokes you any longer. This is one of the greatest rewards of right meditation – a state of no provocation. People, their statements, their responses, your own thoughts, reactions, emotions and desires – none of it will be able to provoke you.

  You become spontaneous like a child but you never lose your mindfulness. It sounds paradoxical but only when you go through the four stages of mental quietude, you will know what I mean.

  Imagine you live in a metropolitan city and you have taken a sabbatical to spend some time in peace in a far off location – in a small, quiet, countryside town close to a seashore. Your journey involves a long drive and your goal is to get away from the hustle-bustle of the city life to the peaceful seaside. That calm seaside is the ultimate stage of meditation – infinite, expansive, oceanic. However, before you settle in such state and beyond, you will invariably go through the following four stages:

  Constant Activity – The Motorway

  This is the first stage. Mind is always talking and most people remain unaware. When they want the mind to be quiet, like before sleeping or when they are depressed, and it does not shut up, that is when they realize how talkative mind is. There is constant activity going on in the mind. During this stage, when a meditator sits down to meditate, his mind does not quieten beyond sporadic short periods lasting no more than a few seconds. All that the meditator hears is chatter. The more he tries to quiet the mind, the louder it becomes. Thoughts from everywhere continue their onslaught, discouraging the practitioner. At the end of their 30-minute long session, they get up more drained and tired. Some mistake it for relaxation but in reality it is no more than a short nap.

  In a way, this is one of the most critical stages. Those who do not work with great vigilance in this stage, end up becoming average meditators. They may increase their meditation from thirty minutes to two hours but it will be no different. It will not yield greater results. Earlier they were doing 30 minutes of bad meditation and now they are doing two hours of it. That’s the only difference. It is like having a bad cook. He may cook one dish or fifty, if his culinary skills aren’t great, and he’s doing nothing to improve his situation, he will continue to cook tasteless food. Something’s got to change.

  The first stage of mental stillness is like the traffic on a major highway. Traffic is always flowing in both directions. The meditator is on the highway of thoughts. When you are on a highway, you have no control over the traffic around you. There are multiple lanes, there will be cars in front, in the left lane, in the right lane, behind you. Some are going slower than you, many are going faster than you, others are at the same pace as you. There is traffic flowing in your direction and in the opposite direction. People are not honking so nothing abruptly disrupts your cruise mode or distracts you, but you are aware of the traffic around you and you know this is normal on the freeway. You have to drive carefully, you cannot afford any mistakes while changing lanes. A meditator in the first stage has no control on the flow of thoughts. They are on a motorway and it is the peak hour. The only thing you can do is drive with utmost caution and eventually you will get off the freeway.

  Everyone, absolutely every single meditator goes through this stage. No matter if you are an introvert, extrovert, outspoken, the silent type, a believer, non-believer, a socialite or a saint, regardless of how well versed you are in the scriptures and yogic texts, if you are getting into the practice of meditation, you will go through this stage. The good news is if you persist, you will jump across it. Eventually the motorway will give way to the suburban road, the second stage of mental stillness.

  Frequent Activity – Suburban Road

  I have met hundreds of meditators. One on one. Most of them never cross the first stage. They never get off the motorway. The rush hour of thoughts and the restlessness of the mind stays constant in them. However, those who persist attentively and patiently, soon reach the second stage.

  In this stage, the flow of thoughts is frequent but not constant. A med
itator experiences easiness and many quiet stints lasting several moments where they get a glimpse of a mind free from thoughts – a no-mind state, a heightened state of consciousness. Your ability to meditate for longer period increases by a few minutes. If in stage one, you could meditate for 30 minutes, now you can meditate for 45 minutes. Most people are unable to maintain their concentration beyond a few seconds. While stage one is like the busy switchboard in a large corporate, where the receptionist barely finishes putting through one caller and the other one is already on the line, the second stage is more like the individual desk of a public relations person. He or she will be attending calls several times a day but it won’t be as busy as the main switchboard.

  In this stage, thoughts continue to knock on the doors of a meditator throughout their session. But with mindfulness and alertness, you develop greater immunity and awareness. You learn to decide when to let your thoughts into your headspace. It may sound strange but it works every time: when your thoughts know that you won’t be opening the door for them, they stop knocking and leave you in peace.

  Think of this stage as driving on a suburban road. The thoughts in your mind are no longer traveling in 16 lanes in both the directions. The speed has come down by half. There is still a degree of constancy to them, they haven’t come to a halt yet nor have they disappeared. Your thoughts are travelling at a slower speed now. The traffic is more manageable. Your attentiveness increases noticeably as you get to this stage.

  The unique aspect of this stage is its irreversibility.

  It means once you attain mental quietude beyond the frequent activity of stage one and once you go past this stage, your meditation goes to an entirely new level and there is no going back. It is like milk has become butter now and no process can turn it back into milk. After you have crossed this stage, you will no longer have to deal with an onslaught of thoughts regardless of when you sit down to meditate.

  Occasional Activity – The Countryside Road

  On your journey so far, you’ve come off the freeway and you have driven through a suburban road. Now, you’ve hit the countryside road, the third stage of mental stillness.

  Just like effusive rivers rush into the sea but the sea remains unmoved, the mind of a yogi remains unaffected by the rise and fall of thoughts and emotions. Sea is not always calm, it has tides and it can get tempestuous, but such choppiness is not an everyday affair. A meditator in the third stage can have rough periods but they are far and few in between.

  From my experience, less than half a percent of meditators get to the third stage of mental stillness. This is not because they are not earnest about it but because wrong meditation does not lead to improvement. When a meditator has gone past the first two stages, they develop an unfailing stillness of mind that reflects through their actions, thoughts and speech. The energy of a stage three meditator has a quieting effect on those around him.

  The third stage is the countryside road. You can drive for several miles before you come across any other vehicle. Green fields, meadows, pastures, pristine air, blue sky, expansive views, beautiful landscapes, quiet surroundings, no rush – ah, the pleasure of countryside driving! You can go slower or a bit faster, you choose your own pace. The conditions permit you to do that. A meditator who has reached stage three learns to harness and channelize his thoughts. Most of their sessions comprise spans of quiescence and bliss with occasional thoughts emerging here and there, on and off. They don’t get up all relaxed from their meditation, for relaxed they already are, otherwise it would not have been possible to get to this stage. Instead, they get up feeling supercharged, refreshed and alert. A great meditator is always alert. Alertness is not only the reward but an essential ingredient for good meditation. A stage three meditator can easily sit unmoving for three hours.

  No Activity – No Thorough Fare

  Even though I have called it a stage, there is really no going beyond this stage. Intellectually, we may define an infinite number of stages. In all practicality though, stage four is the outcome of crossing the three stages successfully. It comes with great, persistent, prolonged, intelligent, alert, intense and correct practice. Please carefully note all the seven adjectives in the previous sentence. You miss on any of these and there is no hope. A stage four meditator can sit unmoving, like a rock, for as long as he wants.

  At this stage you experience extraordinary absorption and understand the reality of things unknown and inconceivable by the ordinary mind. Buddha said, “The one who knows the reality of one thing knows the reality of everything.”

  The fourth stage is enlightenment.

  On your long drive to self-realization, think of this stage as a private property, a large villa, an exclusive chateau. It has a path, a road but it is no thoroughfare – a large gate and a high fence block noise, traffic, people and any unwanted visitors. You have your own garden, comfort and peace. Any visitor will either have taken prior appointment which means you are aware of their arrival beforehand or you will have the choice to let them in or not. A stage four meditator is an adept, a siddha. He can stay on a thought for as long as he so chooses. The awareness is so crystallized that he can decide which thought he wants to entertain and which one he wishes to let go. There are no surprises.

  The energy of a stage four meditator has a calming effect on everyone who comes in contact, even if briefly. You develop a natural stillness of the gaze.

  Having said that, meditation is not salt. Just rigorous practice of meditation is not a substitute of the virtues a meditator must cultivate. It is not possible to reach the fourth stage without developing a selfless concern for the greater good. A degree of selflessness is paramount to rise above petty emotions. A sense of ego and selfishness is generally the seed behind all undesirable feelings.

  Negative emotions adversely affect the quality of your practice. They pull you back. As you progress and reach this stage a sense of dispassion arises naturally. You enjoy everything people around you do but you no longer cling onto anything or anyone – negative or positive. A meditator at this stage has fully realized the truth that everything springs from a thought and if they can drop the thought at the moment of its emergence, no undesirable emotion or action will manifest.

  Frankly, if you are still reading this book then you have a very high chance of discovering yourself through the path of meditation. I congratulate you in all honesty. To me it means that meditation to you is not merely a self-help method but something more. If you have made it this far, you are now ready to understand the intricacies of meditation beginning with the six primary principles of meditation. Let’s get on with it.

  Six Principles of Meditation

  Two good friends, Ron and John, were sitting in a restaurant waiting for their order to be served. A few tables across, a girl came and took her seat.

  Some five minutes later, Ron said to John, “I think that girl really likes me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Well, she’s been looking at me for the past five minutes and smiling constantly.”

  John burst out laughing and clapped. “That’s nothing, man,” he said. “The first time I saw you, I kept laughing for an hour!”

  I’ve carefully chosen this joke because it covers the six primary principles of meditation.

  Some 1000 years ago in India, there lived a great meditator Tilopada, or Tilopa as referred in numerous Tibetan texts. Tilopa was born in a royal family in Bengal. Much like the Buddha, the Gautama, he too renounced his kingdom and went on to crystallize the essence of meditation for serious practitioners. His teachers were a range of illustrious Buddhist scholars, most notably Nagarjuna. Tilopa called his system of meditation Mahamudra – the royal seal or the wisdom of emptiness. He orally transmitted this system of meditation to his chief disciple and successor Naropad, more commonly known as Naropa, another phenomenal Indian scholar. After Naropa had mastered Mahamudra, Tilopa gave him six golden p
rohibitions – a summary of the entire system in six words.

  The original Sanskrit instruction is no longer extant, but translated in English, his advice is short and worth its weight in gold.

  Before I spell out the six principles, I would like to share with you a little story that underpins the golden rule of meditation.

  A deeply unhappy but rich woman, used to the superstitious ways of living, approached a mystic once. She went with a long list of petty problems and complaints. It’s far easy to cure a disease or treat a patient than cure someone who is actually healthy and of sound mind. The woman was miserable in spite of all the worldly comforts that life had provided to her. She was fit as a bull, had a loving family, hefty savings and a beautiful home. The mystic cast a glance at her troubled round face and thought there truly was nothing he could give the woman, there was certainly no panacea. And yet, there she was seeped in pain sitting by the mystic’s feet hoping for a solution.

  After a long pause, he said to the lady, “I will give you an ancient talisman. This will solve all your problems.”

  He pulled out an old rusty copper coin with a hole in it and asked her to bury it near the roots of a banyan tree on the night of the full moon. “But, for the talisman to work,” he warned, “there is a condition that must be fulfilled. When you bury the ancient coin, you must not think of any white elephant with three legs, a lame monkey or a talking frog. If you imagine any of these even for a moment, the remedy will fail.”

  The woman offered sweets, gold and clothes to the mystic and left happily. The full moon night was ten days away and she reminded herself everyday to not to think about the three legged elephant, lame monkey or the talking frog. Not a moment went by when she didn’t remember the mystic’s last words. For the remedy to work she had to stay away from thinking about these three, she thought. On the night of the full moon, when she went to bury the coin, only three things sprung to her mind: a white elephant, a lame monkey and a talking frog. The very thoughts she had worked hard to avoid.