Skilled in Leaving Concentration

The Canon talks about the skills associated with concentration practice: skill in entering, skill in staying, skill in leaving. You might think that skill in leaving is the easiest out of the three—just jump right out, no problem. But that’s not what the Canon means. It means that you don’t really leave fully. At the very least, you stay in the shadow of the concentration, ready to go back in.

There’s a famous story about Ajaan Lee: A young soldier was heading off to war, so he had gone around to different ajaans to get amulets. He came to Ajaan Lee who, at that point, didn’t have any amulets. But as they sat talking, Ajaan Lee kept fiddling with the corner of his robe. Then, when the conversation was over, he said, “I don’t have any amulets for you, but I do have this.” He took some scissors, snipped off the corner of the robe, and gave it to the soldier.

Now, it turned out that this soldier had a friend who was very sensitive to the power of different amulets and things. So, after gathering up amulets, he went to the friend and asked him, “Which of these is most powerful? I don’t want to have to carry a whole pocketful around with me.” The friend picked up the amulets one by one, and when he got to the corner of Ajaan Lee’s robe, he picked it up and immediately dropped it, as if it had burned his hand. That was the powerful one—which is a sign that Ajaan Lee was in concentration while he was listening.

Technically speaking, you’re not in jhāna when you’re talking. But when you’re quiet, you *can *be. So he was going in and out. While he was in the jhāna, he would fiddle with the robe. That’s what gave the robe its power.

Probably, the most famous example of not leaving meditation when you get up from it is the story of Ven. Ānanda. After the Buddha died, Ven. Mahā Kassapa said, “We have to have a council to standardize the Buddha’s teachings. Otherwise, they’re going to get lost and scattered.” So they selected a group of 500 arahants. Then Mahā Kassapa said, “We’ll have to include Ānanda, too,” even though he wasn’t an arahant, still, because he had been with the Buddha as his attendant, he knew more of the Buddha’s teachings than anybody else.

Now, Ānanda felt that if he was going to join the council, he had better raise the level of his meditation. So he meditated really hard. The night before the council, he meditated late into the night and then finally decided it was time to lie down. As he was in the course of lying down, before he actually got into the lying position, he gained full awakening.

Now, sometimes this story is interpreted as meaning that his problem was that he wanted too much to gain arahantship. His desire was too strong. But it’s worth noting that—of the explanations of the role of desire in the practice, the need for desire in the practice—the two clearest ones come from Ānanda himself.

There’s the story of when he’s staying in a park and a brahman comes to see him and asks, “This path you’re practicing here, where does it lead? What’s the goal?” Ānanda says, “One of the goals is the subduing of desire.” “Well, what is the path that leads there?” Ānanda talks about the four bases for success, the first of which is desire. And the brahman says, “That’s impossible. How can you use desire to get rid of desire?”

Ānanda replies, “Let me cross-question you. Before you came to the park, did you have the desire to come here?” “Yes.” “And wasn’t it the desire that got you here?” “Yes.” “Now that you’re here, where is the desire?” “Well, it’s gone. I’m here.” Then Ānanda says, “It’s the same with practice. You develop the base of power based on desire and the fabrication of exertion. Once you arrive, then you can put that desire away.” That’s one instance.

Another passage is where he tells a nun that even though we practice for putting an end to craving, we have to use craving in order to get there. The desire to get there is what motivates us.

So it’s doubtful that Ānanda, if he’d gained awakening by letting up on his desire, would then talk so much about the need for desire on the path. It’s more likely that as he the sitting posture and was about to lie down, he didn’t really leave his meditation. He maintained his focus—even what for most of us would have been a huge gap.

We sit here meditating. As soon as the bell rings, we jump up and drop the concentration. If it were made out of glass, you’d hear the sound of shattering glass all over the room. We have to decide that when the bell rings, we’re going to firmly re-establish our awareness in the body: Get up, be in the body totally as we bow down, stay with the breath as we bow down, stay with the breath as we get up, and ideally go back to our place and meditate some more.

Ajaan Fuang said that one of the secrets to his success as a meditator was that he didn’t stop meditating when the group stopped—and they would have a four-hour session every evening, from six to ten, with chanting and meditating. Most people, after four hours, would just go back and crash. But he wouldn’t.

So it’s important that you re-establish your sense of inhabiting your body, fully. Don’t let your visual field come in and suppress your awareness of the body. Think of all your experience happening within your awareness of the body. That provides the context. Maintain that context as best you can. That’s one of the main steps.

In fact,* the *main step of leaving concentration is learning how not to fully leave it—how to keep at least your toe in the doorway.

Now, there are other steps to leaving well as well. These apply more in two circumstances. As when we have the bell: Usually we get up, leave with the group. If your meditation is going really well, you don’t have to get up. But as for the speed with which you’re getting up when it happens: The main thing you want to focus on is just staying in the concentration as best as you can, keep inhabiting your body as fully as you can. Be very meticulous about that.

But there are the other times: One, when you know that it’s about time for the bell to ring and you’re coming out of concentration, there’s a kind of internal clock that lets you know it’s about an hour but not quite yet. Or when you’re meditating on your own, and you’ve finished a session of meditation:

In either case, you don’t have to be in a hurry to get up. You can reflect a little bit more: “During the meditation, at what point were you most settled?” “At what point was the concentration strongest, or the breath most comfortable?” “Where were you focused at that point?” “What was the quality of the breath?” “What had you been doing up to that point?”

If you can remember any of these things, make a mental note, and then try to bring the mind to that state as quickly as possible the next time around. After a while, you should get a sense of where in the body your home base is. It may not be the one that you’ve preconceived. But you notice, after a while, that when the mind finally settles, it’s in one spot. It might be the middle of the head. You intended it to be at the middle of the chest, but it moved to the middle of the head, or vice versa, or anywhere.

Then, the next time you sit down, go right there. What was the quality of the breath? Well, try to recreate that quality of the breath.

It’s in this way that the meditation becomes a skill. You’re not just shooting birds in the dark. You begin to gain a sense of your stillness of mind.

And you may also begin to sense that the way your mind settles down will really vary from time to time; that you don’t have just one spot where you tend to go, but you have a couple of spots that are your home bases.

The next step, of course, is to spread thoughts of goodwill. Ajaan Suwat used to talk about how in the beginning of the meditation, when we spread thoughts of goodwill to all beings, it’s primarily for ourselves, to clear away any resentments or grudges coming from the day—so that we can clear the decks before the mind can settle down. But then we should also spread goodwill at the end of the meditation. That, he said, is for other people. At that point, your concentration should be stronger, your mind more settled. Thoughts of goodwill from a more concentrated and settled mind have a lot more power.

So when you have some extra time at the end of the meditation, reflect, spread thoughts of goodwill, and then get ready. When the bell rings, you’re going to maintain your full attention in the body. You’re going to be immersed in your body. Think of that phrase, kāyagatāsati—mindfulness immersed in the body. You want your full awareness immersed in the body. You’re in the body, inhabiting it fully, as you get up, as you move around.

Try to minimize your conversation, if you get engaged in conversation. Even better, just go back to your meditation place and continue. This helps develop the habit of being centered all the time.

When you are in a conversation, say what has to be said, and then as soon as you’ve said what you have to say, get the mind quiet. Fully inhabit your body again, quiet so that you can hear what the other person has to say and respond. All too often, we’re just churning out ideas of what we’re going to say next. Well, have some quiet time during your conversations as the other person talks. Be in your body as you get into conversation. You may not be fully in jhāna but at least you’re centered.

It’s in this way that the meditation builds up momentum as you go through the day. Once you’re fully aware as you get up, bow down, and leave, you can stay centered. Then just stay centered as best you can, as continuously as you can, so that inhabiting your body becomes your default mode. That’s when you can say you’re really an expert in leaving concentration. You really are skilled.