2 : Specific Attainments

Stream-entry

The first of the noble attainments—portrayed metaphorically as stream-entry in some contexts, as the arising of the Dhamma eye in others—is a momentous event for anyone who experiences it. This is a point that has to be emphasized, because many interpretations of the event make it sound very ordinary and everyday. But when we look at what the Canon actually says about it, we can see that there’s nothing ordinary about it at all.

To begin with, the Canon describes it as immediately blissful—giving access to a personal experience of tranquility and unbinding (MN 48 [§7])—and as having a radical long-term impact in at least three ways.

• First, it marks a new stage in your relationship to the Dhamma. In line with the image of the Dhamma eye, you’ve actually seen the Dhamma and are said to be consummate in view. One passage in the Canon illustrates this point with the simile of a well: Standing at the edge of the well, you see for sure that there is water in the well, even though you don’t yet touch the water with your body (SN 12:68 [§15])—the implication being that touching it with your body would stand for full awakening.

But even just seeing the Dhamma makes a strong impact. Your confidence in the Buddha, Dhamma, and Saṅgha has been confirmed. You have no more perplexity or doubts about the Dhamma because you’ve seen how it works in taking you to the deathless. For this reason, you’re said to be independent of others with regard to the Buddha’s message. In other words, you know for sure what the Buddha was talking about, that it gives true results when put into practice, that those members of the Saṅgha who have practiced rightly have seen the same Dhamma, and that you’re mature enough to direct your own practice from that point on.

• Second, this attainment has an indelible impact on your behavior, in that you’ve completed your training in virtue, although you still have further work to do in developing concentration and discernment (AN 3:87). In the words of the Canon, your virtues are now pleasing to the noble ones: unbroken, untorn, and conducive to concentration. The noble ones are also pleased because your virtues are not grasped at and you yourself are not made of virtue, meaning that you don’t take hold of your virtues to create a sense of conceit or self around them (AN 10:92 [§6]; MN 78). You embody the virtues of the five precepts not out of pride, but out of a natural reaction to what you’ve seen in seeing the Dhamma: If you’re careless in your actions, you’ll cause harm for yourself and for others. So, out of a pure desire to be harmless, you’re careful in all you do.

• Finally, the first noble attainment has a decisive impact on your future course through the cycles of death and rebirth. Prior to stream-entry, you face the possibility of an unlimited number of rebirths, and you could be reborn in any of the levels of the cosmos, from the highest to the lowest. After stream-entry, though, you’re freed from three of the ten fetters that bind you to those cycles: self-identity views, doubt, and grasping at habits and practices. (These fetters will be explained below.) As a result, you face a maximum of only seven more lifetimes, none of them below the human level. You’re also now bound for awakening for sure, which appears to be the reason why the attainment is called stream-entry: Just as a person who has entered the flow of a stream will inevitably reach the ocean, a person who has achieved stream-entry will inevitably reach unbinding.

Each of these last two points is illustrated with a simile. The first simile is a variant on the stream image. Instead of flowing along with a stream, you’re trying to cross over a stream to the safety on the further shore. In this image, the first noble attainment is where you “gain a footing” (MN 56; AN 10:58). In other words, you haven’t yet reached the further shore, but you have reached the point near the shore where the stream is so shallow that your feet can be firmly planted on the streambed. From this point on, you won’t be swept away by the current.

The second simile highlights the fact that the amount of suffering you potentially face in the cycle of death and rebirth is now drastically reduced. Prior to stream-entry, that suffering can be compared to all the dirt in the world. After stream-entry, it’s like the amount of dirt under a fingernail (SN 13:1).

The Nature of the Experience. For an experience to yield such radical results, it must be extraordinary. The Canon gives some idea of what the stream-entry experience involves in its explanations of what the stream is and what the Dhamma eye sees.

The explanation of the stream is the shorter and less controversial of the two. The stream is simply the noble eightfold path (SN 55:5 [§5]). Because the stream-enterer still has further work to do in developing concentration and discernment—which are covered by five of the factors of the path—this equation of the path with the stream seems to mark the point where all eight factors of the path come together, even though not all of them are fully mastered.

As for the Dhamma eye, its expression in the Canon is also fairly short, but it has given rise to a wide variety of contradictory interpretations. This means that we will have to sort through some of the more common ones to see where they do and don’t accord with what’s said in the larger context of the Canon. The disadvantage of this discussion is that it will take time. The advantage is that it will yield a sharper and more focused picture of what the Dhamma eye sees.

Every time the Dhamma eye arises in the Canon, it’s expressed in the same formula: “Whatever is subject to origination is all subject to cessation.” The fact that the experience is always expressed in the same formula is striking, because the Canon tells of its occurring to a wide variety of people listening to the Buddha’s teachings—everyone from the group of five monks, the long-term ascetics who had attended to the Buddha-to-be during his austerities, to the would-be assassin who, in the Buddha’s later years, had been hired by Devadatta to kill the Buddha, along with the would-be assassins hired to then kill the first would-be assassin, and the would-be assassins hired to kill them. So obviously there’s something universal about what this formula expresses.

To understand what it means, it’s good to look at the context: both the events that induce the Dhamma eye to arise, and the impact that the arising of the Dhamma eye has on the mind.

Stream-entry can occur in a variety of situations—such as when you’re meditating on your own—but the Canon tends to use the simile of the Dhamma eye in instances where a person gains that eye while listening to a Dhamma talk. In fact, there’s only one passage in the entire Canon—AN 9:35—that mentions the arising of the Dhamma eye without clearly putting it in that context. As we’ll see in Chapter 4, the talks that induce the arising of the Dhamma eye usually focus on the framework of the four noble truths.

In some cases, where the Buddha deems that the listener isn’t immediately ready to hear and accept the four noble truths, he prefaces that teaching with what’s termed a graduated or step-by-step talk, in which he describes generosity, virtue, and the rewards of generosity and virtue in heaven. Then he reverses course to describe the drawbacks of even heavenly sensuality. When the listener is ready to regard renunciation of sensuality positively as a state of rest in a firmly concentrated mind, the Buddha finally presents the four truths.

Again, we’ll return to this talk—and the Buddha’s reasons for using it—in Chapter 4.

The two major exceptions to this pattern are contained in the famous story where Sāriputta—who, at that point, is a wanderer in another sect—gains the Dhamma eye when hearing the following verse from Ven. Assaji, and then again when Moggallāna in turn gains the Dhamma eye after hearing the verse from Sāriputta:

“Whatever phenomena arise from cause:
	their cause
		& their cessation.
Such is the teaching of the Tathāgata,
     		the Great Contemplative.”

What this short teaching has in common with the four noble truths is the framework: the notion of causation and its relationship to cessation.

The formula for the Dhamma eye is sometimes followed by a description of its impact. In the case of Sāriputta and Moggallāna, this takes the form of a poem that the narrator of their story addresses rhetorically to them:

Just 	this Dhamma,
just 	this much,
and you experienced
the sorrowless state—
		unseen, neglected,
for many ten-thousands of eons.

Here the emphasis is on the attaining of a sorrowless state—one of the attributes of the goal of the noble search for the deathless.

In other cases, the impact of the arising of the Dhamma eye is described by a standard passage focusing on the overcoming of doubt, as in the case of Upāli the householder:

“Then—having seen the Dhamma, having reached the Dhamma, known the Dhamma, gained a footing in the Dhamma, having crossed over & beyond doubt, having had no more questioning—Upāli the householder gained fearlessness and was independent of others with regard to the Teacher’s message.” — MN 56

In short, these passages show that the Dhamma eye arises after learning about cause, effect, and cessation. It then leads to the overcoming of doubt and to a sorrowless state. When we understand the context of the Dhamma eye’s arising in these terms, we can evaluate the different interpretations that have been offered for what the Dhamma-eye formula actually means.

Origination & its range. One interpretation that’s currently widespread asserts that the Dhamma eye is simply the act of assenting to the principle of impermanence or inconstancy: All things that arise must pass away. But this interpretation is based on three mistakes in reading the texts. The first mistake is simply a question of mistranslation. The second is a failure to take into account what the Buddha himself said qualifies as valid grounds for affirming a truth. The third mistake is a failure to take into consideration other passages in the Canon that describe in more detail what a stream-enterer directly knows.

1) To begin with the mistranslation: The formula for the Dhamma eye doesn’t make reference to “all that arises.” Instead, it speaks of “all that’s subject to origination.” The difference is crucial. “Arising” is simply an issue of appearing. “Origination,” as we’ve already noted, is an issue of causality: The Dhamma eye speaks of all that arises because of a cause.

But not just any cause: “Origination” is most often used throughout the Canon to refer to processes originating in one’s own mind. Given that the Dhamma eye most frequently follows on hearing the four noble truths, and given that the word “origination” in the context of those truths refers to the causes of stress and suffering within the mind, it follows naturally that anyone listening to these truths would naturally look for the causes of stress in his or her own mind.

So the formula for the Dhamma eye refers to what is seen when a listener does just that. You look for the craving mentioned in the second noble truth, and in bringing right view—and all the other factors of the path, hence the “stream”—to bear on it, you can put an end to it.

At the same time, MN 9 and AN 10:92 indicate that in doing so, you not only see the end of stress, but you also see how all the factors of dependent co-arising prior to craving—through feeling, sensory contact, the six sense media, name and form, sensory consciousness, fabrication, all the way back to ignorance—unravel as well. Stress, you come to realize, is not the only thing internally originated. The same holds true for what the Buddha calls the All: the experience of the sense media—the five senses plus the mind as the sixth (SN 35:23).

This is one of the most radical aspects of gaining the Dhamma eye: seeing the extent to which sensory contact is dependent on events in the mind. This is the All that ceases when its internal causal conditions cease. And the cessation of this All is nothing other than an experience of the deathless (Ud 8:1; SN 35:117).

2) In AN 3:66 and MN 95, the Buddha listed various ways of affirming belief in a truth, none of which count as genuine proofs that the belief is true. These include logical inference and agreement after pondering views. To simply agree, based on logical inference, that all things that arise must pass away would not, in the Buddha’s eyes, count as a valid basis for confirmed conviction. We have to remember that such a view would be based on perceptions, which the Buddha said were no more substantial than mirages (SN 22:95) and which are subject to the vagaries of dependent co-arising (SN 12:2). Any conviction based on perceptions would, by its nature, be no more reliable than the perceptions on which it was based. Only an experience outside of the vagaries of dependent co-arising would, for him, count as valid grounds for confirming a belief. In MN 49, the Buddha affirms that there is such a consciousness that is “not known through the All.” So the Dhamma eye, to be genuine knowledge, would have to at least glimpse an experience of that sort.

3) The points in (1) and (2) are corroborated by three other passages in the Canon that describe, in general terms, what a person who has entered the stream comes to know directly as part of that experience.

• The first passage states that, at stream-entry,

“One discerns, as it has come to be, ‘This is stress.’ One discerns, as it has come to be, ‘This is the origination of stress.’ One discerns, as it has come to be, ‘This is the cessation of stress.’ One discerns, as it has come to be, ‘This is the path of practice leading to the cessation of stress.’” — AN 3:74

To understand this passage, it’s first necessary to focus on the phrase, “as it has come to be”— yathābhūtaṁ in Pāli. This phrase is used to indicate a direct experience of something, instead of theoretic knowledge about it. In this case, it means that the stream-enterer has had direct knowledge not only of stress, but also of the cessation of stress: That’s the reason for the repeated, “This, this, this” in the above passage. But yathābhūtaṁ also means more than direct knowledge in general. It means direct knowledge of the processes of origination (SN 12:31). It’s not surprising that this phrase would apply to seeing how stress and its origination are originated. What’s noteworthy is that the phrase is also applied to the cessation of stress and the path leading to that cessation.

Now, the unbinding that’s realized along with the cessation of stress is not originated—if it were, it wouldn’t be deathless—but the act of realizing it can be induced by the path. This is why the Buddha distinguishes between unbinding itself and the realization of unbinding. Unbinding is not a phenomenon (dhamma). Instead, it’s the ending of all phenomena (AN 10:58). The realization of unbinding, which is an action, he classes along with dispassion and cessation as the highest possible dhammas (Iti 90). Because these dhammas can be induced by the path, they can, in that sense, be said to be originated.

Of course, the path itself is fabricated (Iti 90), so it, too, is subject to origination. This suggests that the Dhamma eye must see the cessation not only of suffering and its cause, but also of the path after it has come together and done its work.

• This suggestion is confirmed by the second passage, which we’ve already encountered in Chapter 1:

“When a disciple of the noble ones discerns, as they have come to be, the origination, the passing away, the allure, the drawbacks, and the escape from these five faculties, he is called a disciple of the noble ones who has attained the stream: never again destined for the lower realms, certain, headed for self-awakening.” — SN 48:3

As we’ve already noted, the five faculties mentioned here are another way of expressing the noble eightfold path. The escape from the path lies in the dispassion that comes from comparing its allure—the happiness it provides—with its drawbacks: the fact that it’s fabricated and thus inconstant, stressful, and not-self, not worthy of being claimed as “me” or “mine.” This dispassion allows for the cessation of the faculties and on to the cessation of all things subject to origination.

• That cessation, in turn, allows you to directly see unbinding, a point confirmed by the third passage, which we’ve also encountered in Chapter 1:

“And further, the disciple of the noble ones … discerns that, ‘When I cultivate, develop, and pursue this view, I personally obtain tranquility, I personally obtain unbinding.’ This is the second knowledge attained by him that is noble, transcendent, not held in common with run-of-the-mill people.” — MN 48

So the experience leading to the Dhamma eye is one in which you pursue the question of where within the mind stress originates, and in doing so, you unravel not only the immediate cause of stress—craving—but also the internal origination of your experience of the six sense media. In seeing the cessation that results—the cessation of the All, including the path—you naturally come to realize that whatever is subject to origination is all subject to cessation. That’s because you also see what lies outside the category of “whatever is subject to origination”: what’s not subject to origination or cessation, the sorrowless state in which there’s no arising or passing away (Ud 8:1; SN 35:117). It’s only in seeing what’s not subject to origination—the deathless—that the category “all that is subject to origination” naturally and legitimately occurs to the mind.

This is why, when Sāriputta—after experiencing the Dhamma eye—was asked by Moggallāna if he had attained the deathless, he replied, “Yes, I have.”

And this was something that he could legitimately know based on examining his own experience: He may not have been able to draw conclusions about all things arising in the universe, but he could—because he was observant enough—draw legitimate conclusions about what does and doesn’t originate from within his own mind.

Now, the deathless he experienced is not a blanking out. If it were, the Buddha wouldn’t have used so many metaphors of light, knowing, and awakening to describe it (SN 56:11; SN 1:7; AN 10:81). In actuality, the deathless is the opposite of blanking out. It’s an endless consciousness that’s not known through the All (MN 49) and is not dependently co-arisen. The Buddha calls it “consciousness without surface.” In SN 12:64 he gives an image that helps to explain this term: Ordinary consciousness, affected by clinging, is like a beam of sunlight that can be detected because it lands on a surface; this non-clinging consciousness is like a beam of sunlight that doesn’t land on any surface at all.

Cutting three fetters. As we’ve already noted, all the factors of the noble eightfold path are present in the steps leading up to the first experience of this consciousness, but the concentration and discernment factors are not yet fully developed. For this reason, the stream-enterer simply sees the Dhamma of the deathless but without fully touching it.

Still, seeing just this much is enough to cut through the first three of the ten fetters that lead to rebirth: self-identity views, doubt, and grasping at habits and practices. The fact that the glimpse of the deathless is what cuts the fetters is a point that has to be emphasized: The fetters are not cut by a decision or an act of will to drop them after agreeing with a belief, which could easily be reversed. And the experience of the deathless does not come from cutting them. In fact, the relationship is the other way around. They’re cut once and for all by the overwhelming experience of seeing the deathless—and it’s easy to understand why.

To begin with, now that you’ve seen that the deathless is a reality and that the path is what led you there, you have no more doubt or uncertainty about the Buddha or the truth of his teaching. It really does lead those who practice it to a sorrowless state totally free from suffering and stress. With this experience, your confidence in the Triple Gem has been confirmed. The experience of the deathless thus cuts through the fetter of doubt.

Second, you’ve seen that the experience came about through the skillfulness of your own actions, and that what had prevented you from seeing it earlier were your own unskillful actions. For this reason, you would never intentionally break the five precepts ever again. At the same time, though, you see that the experience of the deathless required more than just following the rules of the precepts. It also entailed a radical act of internal discernment and of letting go that didn’t follow any rules. These realizations, combined, cut through the fetter of grasping at habits and practices: From now on, you’re virtuous but not “made” of virtue.

Third, when all that is subject to origination falls away, the five aggregates fall away as well—and yet there is a consciousness of the deathless that remains. It’s for this reason that you would never again hold to a view in which you would define yourself around any of the aggregates. This is what cuts through the fetter of self-identity views.

This last fetter relates to another common misinterpretation of the stream-entry experience. There are those who say that because stream-entry cuts through this fetter, stream-entry is the point in the practice where you realize that there is no self. But here there are both contextual and textual reasons for calling this interpretation into question.

To start with the contextual reasons: It’s hard to see what kind of experience would legitimately lead to the conclusion that there is no self—just as it’s hard to see what kind of experience would legitimately lead to the conclusion that there is a self. When people claim that they’ve seen the truth of no self, what they’ve actually seen is just the passing away of whatever they had previously identified as self. But that still leaves open the possibility that their actual self could be something else.

Now, it is possible, in the course of meditation, to experience a total blanking out, but again, that’s no proof of the meditator’s non-existence. It’s simply a blanking out. The Canon identifies a state of non-perception, which—if you maintain it—leads to rebirth in the dimension of non-percipient beings who are not sensitive to anything at all (DN 1; DN 15; AN 9:24). This dimension is not a noble attainment—in fact, when you regain consciousness and are reborn, you can develop serious wrong view, because nothing is known or remembered while in that dimension. So there’s no legitimate reason to conclude from such an experience that there is no self. It’s simply proof that it’s possible to deliberately bring yourself to a state in which you don’t perceive anything at all.

As for the textual reasons, the first is that the Buddha consistently avoided giving an answer to the question of whether there is or isn’t a self—saying that either answer would side with an extreme wrong view (SN 44:10). He also stated that the questions of what you are and whether you exist or not are not worthy of attention, in that they pull you off the path into a jungle of views, including the views that “I have a self” and “I have no self,” with all the entanglements that those views entail (MN 2 [§32]).

Second, after the Buddha brought his first disciples, the group of five monks, to an experience of the Dhamma eye, he then gave them a Dhamma talk in which he taught that the five aggregates should be regarded as not-self. If, in experiencing the Dhamma eye, they had already come to the conclusion that there is no self, there would have been no reason for him to address this topic. They would have already seen it for themselves.

The reason he did have to address the topic is because cutting the fetter of self-identity views doesn’t entirely remove from the mind all traces of stress related to the act of clinging to a sense of self. The views covered by self-identity all come down to the sense that “I am this,” where “this” can be either an aggregate, the owner of an aggregate, something within an aggregate, or something containing an aggregate within it (such as a sense of self identified with a cosmic consciousness) (MN 109 [§55]). However, even after abandoning the sense that “I am this,” you don’t necessarily abandon the conceit “I am”—a fetter that’s cut only with the final noble attainment. As SN 22:89 explains, even after self-identity views are removed, there’s still a lingering sense of “I am” with regard to the aggregates, just as when a cloth has been thoroughly washed, there’s still a lingering scent of the cleaning agent used in washing the cloth.

So it was to get rid of the lingering sense of “I am” around the aggregates that the Buddha taught the group of five monks that all five aggregates should be regarded as not-self. That was part of the work that still remained to be done even though they had gained stream-entry.

Non-return

The third of the noble attainments is called non-return because of the long-term impact it has on the course of your future lives. If you reach no higher attainment, you will never return to the human realm after death. Instead, you will be reborn after death in one of the Brahmā heavens and will attain unbinding there.

The Commentary states that there are five Brahmā realms, called the Pure Abodes, that are exclusively the realms of non-returners. The Canon mentions the Pure Abodes (AN 4:124), but also indicates that non-returners can be reborn in other Brahmā heavens as well (AN 4:123).

The Canon’s treatment of non-return is much more cursory than its treatment of stream-entry. According to AN 3:87, a non-returner surpasses a stream-enterer in being fully accomplished not only in virtue but also in concentration—although, as we’ll see, for some meditators this can simply mean fully accomplished in the first jhāna, the first of the four levels of right concentration. Still, like stream-enterers, non-returners still have more work to do in order to become consummate in discernment.

Beyond the three fetters cut at stream-entry, two extra fetters are cut at non-return: sensual desire and ill will. The cutting of the fetter of sensual desire and the mastery of concentration on this level of attainment are two connected facts. That’s because, as the mind enters right concentration, it’s secluded from sensual thoughts. As it gets more proficient in concentration, it’s provided with a level of pleasure and rapture that weaken its attachment to sensuality (MN 14). If, with this background, it attains an experience of the deathless, it’s in a position to fully see the drawbacks of sensuality on emerging from that experience. And because sensuality is the main obstacle to right concentration, when that fetter is cut, there are no more obstacles to concentration.

Four principle passages describe the practices leading to non-return. (A fifth, Sn 3:12, will be discussed in Chapter 8.) One of the four, SN 12:63, focuses on how to contemplate physical food, the most basic object of sensual desire, so as to overcome that desire. The other three passages—DN 22, AN 3:95, and AN 9:36 [§17]—focus on the practice of right mindfulness and right concentration. We’ll start with the latter three first.

Contrary to a popular belief that mindfulness and concentration are two separate practices, the Canon actually treats them as two aspects of a single one. In the popular belief, mindfulness means a broad, non-judging acceptance of all objects that appear in your awareness, whereas concentration is a narrow, exclusive, one-pointed focus on a single object.

In many ways, however, this is a reversal of how the Canon discusses the role of these practices. Mindfulness is the ability to keep a framework in mind (SN 47:10), and has to be sharply focused to avoid letting the mind wander outside of that framework into sensuality or other unskillful thoughts (SN 47:6; SN 47:20; AN 10:51). And instead of simply accepting whatever arises, it has to remember to recognize skillful and unskillful qualities as they arise, and to foster the former and abandon the latter (MN 117; AN 4:245).

Concentration, even though it’s based on a single object, develops into a broad, full-body awareness. This fact is shown by the similes the Buddha uses to describe the four jhānas, or states of absorption, that constitute right concentration:

The first jhāna: “Just as if a dexterous bathman or bathman’s apprentice would pour bath powder into a brass basin and knead it together, sprinkling it again & again with water, so that his ball of bath powder—saturated, moisture-laden, permeated within & without—would nevertheless not drip; in the same way, the monk permeates & pervades, suffuses & fills this very body with the rapture & pleasure born of seclusion. There’s nothing of his entire body unpervaded by rapture & pleasure born of seclusion.”

The second jhāna: “Just like a lake with spring-water welling up from within, having no inflow from the east, west, north, or south, and with the skies supplying abundant showers time & again, so that the cool fount of water welling up from within the lake would permeate & pervade, suffuse & fill it with cool waters, there being no part of the lake unpervaded by the cool waters; in the same way, the monk permeates & pervades, suffuses & fills this very body with the rapture & pleasure born of concentration. There’s nothing of his entire body unpervaded by rapture & pleasure born of concentration.”

The third jhāna: “Just as in a lotus pond, some of the lotuses, born & growing in the water, stay immersed in the water and flourish without standing up out of the water, so that they are permeated & pervaded, suffused & filled with cool water from their roots to their tips, and nothing of those lotuses would be unpervaded with cool water; in the same way, the monk permeates & pervades, suffuses & fills this very body with the pleasure divested of rapture. There’s nothing of his entire body unpervaded with pleasure divested of rapture.”

The fourth jhāna: “Just as if a man were sitting covered from head to foot with a white cloth so that there would be no part of his body to which the white cloth didn’t extend; in the same way, the monk sits, permeating the body with a pure, bright awareness. There’s nothing of his entire body unpervaded by pure, bright awareness.” — DN 2

As we’ll see, the fact that concentration produces such a broad, solidly-based awareness allows you to apply appropriate attention to the mind in concentration in a way that lets you see directly, as it has come to be, that “This is the path to the cessation of suffering.”

Many passages in the Canon show that mindfulness practice and concentration practice are intimately intertwined. The four establishings of mindfulness are the themes of right concentration (MN 44; AN 8:70); mindfulness becomes pure only in the fourth jhāna (SN 45:8); and for mindfulness to develop into right mindfulness, you have to develop all eight factors of the noble eightfold path, which include right concentration (SN 47:40).

The passages describing how mindfulness and concentration practice can lead to non-return are repeated at several points in the Canon. Because they’re standardized, we can focus on two instances.

The first instance, DN 22, gives the basic formula for establishing mindfulness:

1) “There is the case where a monk remains focused on the body in & of itself—ardent, alert, & mindful—subduing greed & distress with reference to the world. He remains focused on feelings… mind… mental qualities in & of themselves—ardent, alert, & mindful—subduing greed & distress with reference to the world.”

The sutta then gives long, detailed answers on questions that deal with only one part of the formula: what it means to remain focused on each of these four frames of reference. This, in fact, may be one of the reasons why there is so much misunderstanding about mindfulness. The sutta is so long that it gives the impression of being a complete description of mindfulness practice. But it doesn’t discuss the more active side of the practice: what it means to be ardent, alert, or mindful, or how you should subdue greed and distress with reference to the world. As a result, if you assume that the sutta’s discussion is complete, you can easily conclude that mindfulness means simply being aware of whatever comes into the range of your awareness.

However, if you look at what the Canon has to say about the parts of the formula not discussed in the sutta, you can see that the entire mindfulness formula is basically giving instructions on how to get the mind into concentration: You focus on one topic, subdue thoughts about the world outside, and you do this by being mindful (keeping the topic in mind (SN 48:10)), alert (knowing what you’re doing while you’re doing it (SN 36:7; SN 47:35)), and ardent (in developing skillful qualities and abandoning unskillful ones (SN 16:2)).

In its conclusion, the sutta states the rewards of developing this practice:

“Now, if anyone would develop these four establishings of mindfulness in this way for seven years, one of two fruits can be expected for him: either gnosis right here & now, or—if there be any remnant of clinging-sustenance—non-return.

“Let alone seven years. If anyone would develop these four establishings of mindfulness in this way for six years… five… four… three… two years… one year… seven months… six months… five… four… three… two months… one month… half a month… seven days, one of two fruits can be expected for him: either gnosis right here & now, or—if there be any remnant of clinging-sustenance—non-return.”

However, the sutta doesn’t specify what would cause there to be a remnant of clinging-sustenance, or what the clinging would be focused on.

Those questions are answered in two suttas that show how the practice of jhāna can form the basis for the attainment of non-return: AN 3:95 and AN 9:36. The first of the two treats a special case: what happens when a stream-enterer dies while in the first jhāna.

2) “Monks, just as in autumn, when the sky is clear & cloudless, the sun, on ascending the sky, overpowering the space immersed in darkness, shines, blazes, & dazzles; in the same way, when the dustless, stainless Dhamma eye arises in a noble disciple, together with its arising, three fetters are abandoned by the noble disciple: self-identity view, doubt, and grasping at habits & practices. Afterwards, when he leaves two qualities—greed & ill will—then, quite secluded from sensuality, secluded from unskillful qualities, he enters & remains in the first jhāna: rapture & pleasure born of seclusion, accompanied by directed thought & evaluation. If the noble disciple passes away at that time, there is no fetter bound by which he would return to this world.”

Unfortunately, this passage doesn’t explain how radically the person in question has to leave greed and ill will so as to have this effect. Nor does it say where in this sequence the fetters that lead to a return to this world are definitively cut.

AN 9:36 [§17] treats a more general case: how to attain an experience of the deathless in such a way as to attain non-return and to continue living in this lifetime after the experience. It’s also more informative in explaining how the practice of jhāna can form a basis for the arising of discernment.

The sutta shows how each of the four jhānas and the first three of the formless attainments can provide such a basis. As MN 111 makes clear, it is possible to apply this sort of discernment to the mind while it’s in these states of concentration without destroying the concentration. In other words, you can apply appropriate attention to the concentrated mind, not in the abstract, but in real time as it’s on the path to the cessation of suffering.

Because the discussion in AN 9:36 is virtually the same for each of these concentration attainments, we can focus on just one instance, its treatment of the first jhāna.

3) “Suppose that an archer or archer’s apprentice were to practice on a straw man or mound of clay, so that after a while he would become able to shoot long distances, to fire accurate shots in rapid succession, and to pierce great masses. In the same way, there’s the case where a monk—quite secluded from sensuality, secluded from unskillful qualities—enters & remains in the first jhāna: rapture & pleasure born of seclusion, accompanied by directed thought & evaluation. He regards whatever phenomena there that are connected with form, feeling, perception, fabrications, & consciousness, as inconstant, stressful, a disease, a cancer, an arrow, painful, an affliction, alien, a disintegration, an emptiness, not-self. He turns his mind away from those phenomena and, having done so, inclines his mind to the property of the deathless: ‘This is peace, this is exquisite—the pacification of all fabrications; the relinquishment of all acquisitions; the ending of craving; dispassion; cessation; unbinding.’

“Staying right there, he reaches the ending of the effluents. Or, if not, then—through this very Dhamma-passion, this Dhamma-delight, and from the total ending of the five lower fetters—he is due to arise spontaneously (in a Brahmā realm), there to be totally unbound, never again to return from that world.

“‘I tell you, the ending of the effluents depends on the first jhāna.’ Thus it was said, and in reference to this was it said.”

The sequence of actions described in this passage is noteworthy for two reasons.

First, it shows in detail how appropriate attention can be applied to the mind as it pursues its intention to stay concentrated. Because skillful attention and intention embody the factors of the noble eightfold path, the way they come together here allows us to see more clearly how the factors of the path merge on the verge of awakening.

Second, the sequence outlined here follows the same five-step pattern we saw earlier in SN 48:3—discerning the origination, the passing away, the allure, the drawbacks, and the escape from concentration. The details provided by the sequence given in AN 9:36 help to flesh out the more general pattern provided by the five steps.

In this case, the steps of discerning the origination, passing away, and allure of the first jhāna come with mastery of the jhāna: That’s the meaning of the simile of the archer or archer’s apprentice. The monk in question hasn’t simply experienced the first jhāna, as could be the case with a stream-enterer. He has mastered it as a skill. This skill—in which he has learned to master the steps for giving rise to jhāna and keeping it from passing away—gives him the deeper insight into the workings of cause and effect in the mind, along with deeper insight into the drawbacks of sensuality. This is part of what allows him to cut five fetters rather than just three.

The allure of the first jhāna lies in the pleasure and rapture that defines it. Insight into the drawbacks of the jhāna begins when you see that it’s composed of the same aggregates that, when clung to, can constitute suffering. This insight is further deepened when you apply any of the eleven perceptions to those aggregates.

The escape comes when the monk turns his mind away from those phenomena and inclines it to the deathless. As a result of experiencing the deathless, he becomes either an arahant or a non-returner, depending on whether there’s any remaining Dhamma-passion and Dhamma-delight. He becomes an arahant if there isn’t, a non-returner if there is.

There’s a question as to whether Dhamma-passion and Dhamma-delight on this level are aimed at the insight that led to the experience of the deathless or at the deathless itself. Because SN 48:3 indicates that dispassion for discernment is induced at each level of noble attainment, it would seem that the passion and delight here is for the deathless.

But that raises a further question: Is it truly aimed at the deathless itself or at subtle perceptions and fabrications around the deathless? To regard the deathless as a dhamma would be to make it an object of the intellect, the sixth of the six senses, whereas unbinding is the ending of all dhammas (AN 10:58). So it would seem that the passion is actually for the perception of the deathless, and that non-returners haven’t yet developed the discernment needed to tell that perception apart from the deathless itself. Because non-returners are said to still be fettered by the fetter of becoming (AN 2:35), and because becoming has to be based on clinging to fabricated phenomena, it would appear that they develop a state of becoming around their passion and delight for the perception of the deathless that follows on their experience of the deathless. That’s what prevents them from gaining total awakening.

But even so, as we have noted, they have abandoned two fetters—sensual desire and ill will—in addition to the stream-enterer’s three. These two fetters form a pair: You could have ill will only toward someone who gets in the way of the fulfillment of your sensual desires.

It’s worth noting that, in the Buddha’s recorded instructions to stream-enterers aiming to go further in their practice, he doesn’t make specific reference to the drawbacks of sensual desire in order to prime them to cut that fetter. He seems to have felt that an emphasis on mastering concentration would be enough to foster an attitude ready to see those drawbacks, as we explained at the beginning of this section. But it’s also worth noting that his instructions on how to reflect on the drawbacks of sensuality permeate the Canon, so a person on the path would most likely have been exposed to them. An example of such a reflection directly related to the attainment of non-return—the fourth of the four passages we referred to above—is this:

4) “And how is physical food to be regarded? Suppose a couple, husband & wife, taking meager provisions, were to travel through a desert. With them would be their only baby son, loved & endearing. Then the meager provisions of the couple going through the desert would be used up & depleted while there was still a stretch of the desert yet to be crossed. The thought would occur to them, ‘Our meager provisions are used up & depleted while there is still a stretch of this desert yet to be crossed. What if we were to kill this only baby son of ours, loved & endearing, and make dried meat & jerky? That way—chewing on the flesh of our son—at least the two of us would make it through this desert. Otherwise, all three of us would perish.’

“So they would kill their only baby son, loved & endearing, and make dried meat & jerky. Chewing on the flesh of their son, they would make it through the desert. While eating the flesh of their only son, they would beat their breasts, (crying,) ‘Where have you gone, our only baby son? Where have you gone, our only baby son?’ Now what do you think, monks? Would that couple eat that food playfully or for intoxication, or for putting on bulk, or for beautification?”

“No, lord.”

“Wouldn’t they eat that food simply for the sake of making it through that desert?”

“Yes, lord.”

“In the same way, I tell you, is the nutriment of physical food to be regarded. When physical food is comprehended, passion for the five strings of sensuality is comprehended. When passion for the five strings of sensuality is comprehended, there is no fetter bound by which a disciple of the noble ones would come back again to this world.” — SN 12:63

A non-returner—one whose sensitivities to the drawbacks of sensuality had been further strengthened through contemplations like this, as well as through mastery of concentration—would, on withdrawing from an experience of the deathless, be more capable of seeing the affliction inherent in sensuality: not only for the one fed on, but more importantly for the one who feeds on sensual fantasies. That’s why such a person would be released from the fetter of sensual desire and the accompanying fetter of ill will.

However, that person would still be fettered by the fetter of becoming. And although the states of becoming to which this fetter would now lead are relatively refined—in the heavens of form and formlessness—the Buddha wouldn’t praise even such refined states.

“Monks, just as even a tiny amount of feces is foul-smelling, in the same way, I don’t praise even a tiny amount of becoming—even as much as a finger-snap.” — AN 1:329

So non-returners still have more work to do in order to free themselves from the five higher fetters that keep them fettered to becoming: passion for form, passion for what is formless, conceit, restlessness, and ignorance.

Arahantship

These five higher fetters exist in all who have yet to attain arahantship, but for someone who has attained non-return, they remain in a refined form, as follows:

Passion for form is passion for the pleasure and equanimity found in the four jhānas.

Passion for what is formless is passion for the equanimity of the formless concentration attainments, such as the dimension of the infinitude of space or the infinitude of consciousness.

Conceit is the sense “I am” that still lingers around the five aggregates, even though there is no sense of “I am this” with regard to those aggregates.

Restlessness on this level is not the same thing as the restlessness that’s a hindrance to concentration. Instead, it’s an eagerness for your practice to bear full fruit.

Ignorance is lack of knowledge in terms of the four noble truths. Now, the four noble truths and their duties have already been seen clearly at stream-entry, so on this level, what remains to be known is what’s involved in fully completing those duties, and the full experience—and not just the vision—of what is uncovered when they’re complete.

The subtle nature of the fetters on this level of the practice is shown in the following conversation:

Then Ven. Anuruddha went to Ven. Sāriputta and, on arrival, exchanged courteous greetings with him. After an exchange of friendly greetings & courtesies, he sat to one side. As he was sitting there, he said to Ven. Sāriputta, “Here, by means of the divine eye, purified & surpassing the human, I see the thousand-fold cosmos. And my persistence is aroused & unsluggish. My mindfulness is established & unmuddled. My body is calm & unaroused. My mind is concentrated & gathered into singleness. And yet my mind is not released from the effluents through lack of clinging/sustenance.”

Ven. Sāriputta: “My friend, when the thought occurs to you, ‘By means of the divine eye, purified & surpassing the human, I see the thousand-fold cosmos,’ that is related to your conceit. When the thought occurs to you, ‘My persistence is aroused & unsluggish. My mindfulness is established & unmuddled. My body is calm & unaroused. My mind is concentrated & gathered into singleness,’ that is related to your restlessness. When the thought occurs to you, ‘And yet my mind is not released from the effluents through lack of clinging/sustenance,’ that is related to your anxiety. It would be well if—abandoning these three qualities, not attending to these three qualities—you directed your mind to the deathless property.”

So after that, Ven. Anuruddha—abandoning those three qualities, not attending to those three qualities—directed his mind to the deathless property. Dwelling alone, secluded, heedful, ardent, & resolute, he in no long time entered & remained in the unexcelled goal of the holy life for which clansmen rightly go forth from home into homelessness, directly knowing & realizing it for himself in the here & now. He knew, “Birth is ended, the holy life fulfilled, the task done. There is nothing further for the sake of this world.” And thus Ven. Anuruddha became another one of the arahants. — AN 3:131

In all of these cases, the fetter of becoming shows itself in the subtle sense of me and mine that underlies these fetters. And as we’ve seen in AN 9:36 [§17], this subtle becoming has to be abandoned through dispassion not only for your concentration and discernment attainments, but also for the perception of the deathless that results when the mind is inclined in that direction.

The Canon notes that, whereas the path to the lower noble attainments has eight factors, the path to arahantship has ten (MN 117). The two added factors are right knowledge and right release. SN 48:46 identifies right knowledge as a higher development of the faculty of discernment, and right release as a higher development of concentration.

Right knowledge is never explicitly defined in the Canon. However, the descriptions of full awakening scattered through the suttas show that it consists of several components:

First is knowledge that the duties with regard to the four noble truths have been completed (SN 56:11).

Second is the knowledge that the effluents—of sensuality, becoming, and ignorance—have also been comprehended under the same fourfold rubric as the four truths about suffering: the effluents themselves, the origination of effluents, the cessation of effluents, and the path of practice leading to the cessation of effluents (DN 2). The effluent of sensuality was already ended with non-return. The arahant’s knowledge now removes the remaining two. There is no longer anything to flow out of the mind into new states of becoming and birth.

The knowledge that all phenomena are not-self—in which “phenomena” covers both fabricated and unfabricated phenomena—may also be related to this stage of the path (Dhp 279). As we noted earlier, the non-returner’s attachment to the unfabricated property of the deathless appears actually to be focused on subtle aggregates: perceptions and thought-fabrications of the deathless. As we’ll see, some of the Buddha’s listeners must have understood this point without having been alerted to it, which was why they were able to attain arahantship simply on perceiving all the aggregates as not-self.

However, those who did not perceive this point were able only to reach stream-entry or non-return. For their benefit, the Buddha directed their attention to their attachment to the deathless, so that they could detect the aggregates they were still attached to and learn to abandon any passion for them. This taught them to be more reflective of their attachments even to good things. And that, in turn, would induce them to develop dispassion even for the teaching that “All phenomena are not-self,” because it’s composed of aggregates, too. In that way, their act of letting go could be all-around.

Similar considerations surround the teaching that “All phenomena (dhammas) are unworthy of adherence”: This sentence, too, is a phenomenon that first encourages you to let go of all other phenomena and then, once it has done its work, turns around and encourages you to let go of itself (MN 37).

Every teaching aimed at people on the verge of arahantship aims at a letting go that is utterly complete. For example:

When this was said, Ven. Moggallāna said to the Blessed One: “Briefly, lord, in what respect is a monk released through the ending of craving, utterly complete, utterly free from bonds, a follower of the utterly holy life, utterly consummate: foremost among devas & human beings?”

“There is the case, Moggallāna, where a monk has heard, ‘All dhammas are unworthy of adherence.’ Having heard that all dhammas are unworthy of adherence, he directly knows every dhamma. Directly knowing every dhamma, he comprehends every dhamma. Comprehending every dhamma, then whatever feeling he experiences—pleasure, pain, neither pleasure nor pain—he remains focused on inconstancy, focused on dispassion, focused on cessation, focused on relinquishing with regard to that feeling. As he remains focused on inconstancy, focused on dispassion, focused on cessation, focused on relinquishing with regard to that feeling, he is unsustained by [doesn’t cling to] anything in the world. Unsustained, he isn’t agitated. Unagitated, he totally unbinds right within. He discerns: ‘Birth is ended, the holy life fulfilled, the task done. There is nothing further for this world.’

“It’s in this respect, Moggallāna, that a monk, in brief, is released through the ending of craving, utterly complete, utterly free from bonds, a follower of the utterly holy life, utterly consummate: foremost among devas & human beings.” — AN 7:58

A crucial part of this passage is the four-step sequence, in italics, of being focused on inconstancy, dispassion, cessation, and relinquishing. These four steps also form the last four steps in the Buddha’s instructions for mindfulness of breathing (MN 118). The first two steps fall under the five-step program we’ve seen earlier: Focusing on inconstancy falls under the step of looking for the drawbacks; dispassion is the escape. Because passion is what drives the process of fabrication, dispassion allows it to cease. That’s why cessation follows on dispassion. But what’s left to do after the fabrications you’ve been examining—in this case, feelings—have gone to their cessation? You have to relinquish any remaining passion you may feel, either for the discernment that brought about dispassion or for any perceptions surrounding the experience of the deathless that follows. That act of relinquishing marks the point where your training in discernment has become complete.

Following on the arising of this right knowledge comes the tenth factor in the arahant’s path: right release. This—as we noted above—is identified in SN 46:48 as falling under the faculty of concentration. As with right knowledge, the concentration that corresponds to right release is nowhere explicitly defined in the Canon, but it appears to be identical with the concentration described below. This description shows how it differs from the four jhānas. It comes from a discourse in which Ven. Ānanda is listing the types of concentration that don’t partake of the five senses or their objects. Unlike the four jhānas, which are fabricated, and where it’s still possible to detect the five senses in the background, here there’s no fabrication and no awareness of those senses at all:

Ven. Ānanda: “Once, friend, when I was staying near Sāketa at the Game Refuge in the Black Forest, the nun Jaṭila Bhāgikā went to where I was staying, and on arrival—having bowed to me—stood to one side. As she was standing there, she said to me: ‘The concentration whereby—neither pressed down nor forced back, nor with fabrication kept blocked or suppressed—still as a result of release, contented as a result of standing still, and as a result of contentment one is not agitated: This concentration is said by the Blessed One to have what as its fruit?’

“I said to her, ‘Sister, the concentration whereby—neither pressed down nor forced back, nor kept in place by the fabrications of forceful restraint—still as a result of release, contented as a result of standing still, and as a result of contentment one is not agitated: This concentration is said by the Blessed One to have gnosis [arahantship] as its fruit.’ Percipient in this way, too, one is not sensitive to that dimension [i.e., the dimension of the five physical senses and their objects].” — AN 9:37

What follows on this concentration is total awakening.

When the Buddha describes the knowledge that then followed on his experience of that total awakening, the first point that occurred to his mind was that his release was unprovoked, birth was ended, and there now was no further becoming (SN 56:11).

We’ve already touched on why he called total release “unprovoked,” but the term bears further explanation. It comes from the Buddhist theory of dhātu, or properties, underlying events in nature and in the mind. According to this theory, the physical properties are four: earth (solidity), liquid, heat, and wind (motion or energy). Three of them—liquid, heat, and wind—are potentially active. When they’re aggravated, agitated, or provoked—the Pāli term here, “pakuppati,” is used also on the psychological level, where it means angered or upset—they act as the underlying cause for natural activity. When the provocation ends, the corresponding activity subsides (MN 28).

A similar theory attributes the arising of mental states to the provocation of the properties of sensuality, form, or formlessness (SN 14:12).

Even unbinding is described as a property (Iti 44). However, there’s a crucial distinction in how unbinding is attained, in that the unbinding property is never provoked. Any events that depend on the provocation of a property are inherently unstable and inconstant, subject to change when the provocation ends. But because true release isn’t caused by the provocation of anything, it’s not subject to change at all. That’s why one of its names is permanence (SN 43).

The Buddha stated repeatedly that, although the property or dimension of unbinding could be described as existing, arahants cannot be described as existing, not existing, both, or neither (Ud 8:1; SN 22:86). We’ve already noted why: Beings are defined by their attachments and passions (SN 23:2; SN 22:36), whereas arahants have no attachments or passions by which they can be defined. When they can’t be defined, they can’t properly be described. The Buddha speaks of them, not in terms of what they are, but in terms of what they have done and can do.

“In this Saṅgha of monks there are monks who are arahants, whose effluents are ended, who have reached fulfillment, done the task, laid down the burden, attained the true goal, laid to waste the fetter of becoming, and who are released through right gnosis: Such are the monks in this Saṅgha of monks.” — MN 118

Arahants experience the six senses, along with the pleasures and pains of the senses, but they experience them “disjoined” from them (MN 140). They can engage in intentional actions, but they can “burn” the seeds for any karmic results coming from those actions (AN 3:34). In terms of putting an end to their suffering, the Buddha has nothing more to teach them. As depicted in the simile of crossing over the river, they have reached high ground and are free to go wherever they like (MN 22; SN 35:197; AN 4:5).

The following passages show that they still practice mindfulness, concentration, and the exercises of discernment, but not in the way of other people, and not to further perfect their awakening.

“Monks, even those who are arahants—whose effluents are ended, who have reached fulfillment, done the task, laid down the burden, attained the true goal, totally destroyed the fetter of becoming, and who are released through right gnosis—even they remain focused on the body in & of itself—being ardent, alert, unified, clear-minded, concentrated, & gathered into one, disjoined from the body. They remain focused on feelings in & of themselves… on the mind in & of itself… on dhammas in & of themselves—being ardent, alert, unified, clear-minded, concentrated, & gathered into one, disjoined from dhammas.” — SN 47:4

“One enters & remains in the first jhāna… the second jhāna… the third jhāna… the fourth jhāna: purity of equanimity & mindfulness, neither pleasure nor pain. Such is my instruction, brahman, to those monks who are in training, who have not attained the heart’s goal but remain intent on the unsurpassed safety from the yoke. But as for those monks who are arahants—whose effluents are ended, who have reached fulfillment, done the task, laid down the burden, attained the true goal, totally destroyed the fetter of becoming, and who are released through right gnosis—these dhammas lead both to a pleasant abiding in the here & now and to mindfulness & alertness.”

Ven. Sāriputta: “An arahant should attend in an appropriate way to these five clinging-aggregates as inconstant, stressful, a disease, a cancer, an arrow, painful, an affliction, alien, a dissolution, an emptiness, not-self. Although, for an arahant, there is nothing further to do, and nothing to add to what has been done, still these things—when developed & pursued—lead both to a pleasant abiding in the here & now, and to mindfulness & alertness.” — SN 22:122

In this lifetime, arahants experience unbinding as the ending of passion, aversion, and delusion. At death, all the senses grow cold, and they are everywhere released (Iti 44; Thag 14:1). Like the great ocean, they can’t be measured (MN 72; SN 44:1). In the Buddha’s words, their path, like that of birds through space, can’t be traced (Dhp 92).