Mike:
 
 This affair about the Jhanast sounds as a luxurious holiday.  No wonder why 
you are so attracted to them.  I bet that ED ended up sitting down with this 
promised bliss and light!.  And don't blame any of you, though.
 
Bill:
 
I keep receiving mail from the group split up between the spam folder and the 
inbox.  I receive yours, Anthony and Steve in the inbox and Mike and ED in the 
spam folder. Or yahoo is having one of his faults or different electronic 
address have been phished.  This about phishing is easy to happen if one has 
left on sight email address through Internet tour in groups, websites that ask 
for ones mail....
 
Mayka  
 
--- On Tue, 19/4/11, ED <[email protected]> wrote:


From: ED <[email protected]>
Subject: [Zen] Re: ED This is part One:
To: [email protected]
Date: Tuesday, 19 April, 2011, 7:48


  





Mike,
I will look at it tomorrow, as it is past my bed-time. From the few lines I 
have read, it looks precise and well-written. I find the version below easier 
to read.
--ED
 
The Jhanas: Meditative Absorptions 



Jay Michaelson 
  
The jhanas are states of heightened concentration that have been cultivated by 
Hindus and Buddhists for three thousand years. They are altered states, full of 
bliss and, I would say, holiness, and they play a central role in the Buddha's 
Eightfold Path ("right concentration").  Having recently completed a two month 
retreat devoted to cultivating the jhanas, I will here, after a few 
introductory notes, describe my experiences of the jhanic states and describe 
what I believe to be their significance for spiritual practitioners. 

1.         What I did, and why I did it 
I wish to make three introductory notes about why I did it, what I did, and how 
it compared with other things I've done. 
First, I want to explain why I undertook this rigorous practice, which involved 
sitting still for extended periods of time (usually, 90 to 120 minutes), and 
spending the entire day doing nothing but observing the sensations of the 
breath at the nostrils, even while walking, eating, et cetera. I had three 
reasons, and discovered two additional ones during the retreat. 
In my meditation practice, my real goal is liberation from the delusions of ego 
and the clinging nature of the mind: to learn to let go of clinging. On the 
Theravada Buddhist path, liberation comes from insight: directly seeing and 
knowing that all phenomena are empty of substance, impermanent, and fruitless 
to cling to. Insight, in turn, depends on concentration; you've got to get 
really quiet to see these characteristics clearly.  In one Buddhist metaphor, 
concentration sharpens the sword of the mind, which can then be used to cut 
apart delusion.  So I went to learn concentration skills as a kind of 
prerequisite for a longer retreat, which I subsequently completed in Nepal.    
I also did jhana practice because jhana itself helps insight. Distractions and 
hindrances are suppressed in jhana, and the experience is deeply purifying and 
refreshing; one emerges with an extremely sharp, clear, and quiet mind, ready 
to do the rigorous, moment-to-moment noticing that leads to insight.  Third and 
finally, I did this work because I was curious about jhana itself. On earlier 
retreats, I experienced what many meditators experience when their minds become 
concentrated: deep contentment, bliss, gratitude, love, and awe at the beauty 
and miraculousness of ordinary life. Jhanas are like those concentrated 
mindstates squared, amplified, distilled -- and I wanted to see what they were 
like.  
Along the way, I discovered two additional purposes to the practice. One is the 
deep "purification of mind" that is required to enter jhana: you really have to 
see and let go of all of your stuff, which in my case included a lot of grief, 
confusion, loneliness, ego, expectation, and just plain chatter. Every moment 
is an opportunity to let go of all this stuff, and I had a number of extremely 
powerful openings that perhaps I'll write about some other day.  In addition, 
the jhanas were themselves a powerful lesson in letting go. They are like 
everything I had dreamed about from the moment I became interested in 
spirituality as a young adult. Imagine your greatest dreams fulfilled, in 
oceans of light, bliss, love, and mystical union. Now imagine that you have to 
let them go. This is the lesson: that even the greatest of states arise and 
pass. You can't hold onto anything conditioned, even the dearest and most 
precious experiences imaginable. This insight
 alone was surely worth the price of admission.

So, what is jhana practice?  There are different schools of thought among 
Buddhist teachers as to what constitutes a jhana and how to cultivate it. Some 
hold that discursive thought and perception of the outside world must 
completely stop for a jhana to be truly taking place. In this model, a jhana is 
a totally absorbed state of mind; the meditator is only aware of the object of 
meditation (more on that in a moment), and nothing else. Even the passage of 
time is not noticed in such an absorbed state. Other teachers, however, will 
say that a jhana has commenced as soon as its factors are in place and an 
obviously altered state of mind has arisen. 
My own practice was a hybrid of these two approaches. I studied with perhaps 
the Buddhist world's leading expert on jhana practice, who holds the more 
strict view. Yet after a full month of rigorous concentration, I was unable to 
achieve total absorption as his practice demanded. I would enter clearly 
altered states, but would still be aware of strong bodily sensations and the 
sense of time. Therefore, after one month, I switched to the more moderate 
approach, which I had learned earlier. I still cultivated the jhana in the 
"strict" method: I concentrated on the sensation of breath at the nostrils 
until the mind formed a mental image of the breath -- a white cloudy light 
called a nimitta. The nimitta would then become my exclusive focus of 
concentration. But I proceeded through the first four jhanas even though the 
absorption was not total. My experiences, as profound and powerful as they are, 
should thus be understood as only partial in nature. I am a
 beginner -- some might say a failure -- not a teacher and not an expert in 
these practices.
(For detailed description of jhanic states and practice, please read Shaila 
Catherine's Focused and Fearless, the best contemporary book on the jhanas. The 
best online resource is my teacher Leigh Brasington's website, where you can 
learn more about the stricter approach.)

My third and final prefatory note is that I actually do have a fair amount of 
experience with mystical states, and these blow all those experiences out of 
the water. With the possible exception of ayahuasca, I have never encountered 
anything like this -- and I have spent many years meditating, davening, doing 
energy work, and engaging in a wonderfully wide range of ecstatic and 
contemplative practices. Without being too arrogant about it (which would be an 
ironic reversal of the point of spiritual practice!), I think I know whereof I 
speak.  
When I described some of my experiences to a friend, she remarked that they 
sounded similar to what Elizabeth Gilbert describes in her book Eat, Pray, 
Love. I had precisely the experiences Gilbert describes on my first meditation 
retreats, six years ago. They are world-shattering, mind-altering, and 
profound. They provide a direct experience of what generations of mystics have 
described in glowing mystical terms. I do not wish to minimize them, and have 
described them in this magazine's pages in the past.  But the jhanas were far, 
far more powerful and more profound -- perhaps an order of magnitude more. 
They're like the qualities of those earlier experiences, well, concentrated, 
refined, and distilled. If what Gilbert, and I in those earlier essays, 
described is like a lovely Hershey's Kiss, the jhanas are like a rich, hot 
molten chocolate cake. Get it? 


2.            Oceans of light 
With those provisos out of the way, I will now describe my experiences of each 
of the four basic jhanas. (There are actually eight jhanas, but the other four 
are less essential to insight practice. Moreover, while I had some limited 
experiences with them, they require their own essay.) While the descriptions 
that follow may seem hyperbolic and overblown, I assure you that I am 
deliberately understating and underdescribing the experiences. Every writer who 
describes the jhanas does this. I don't want to condition your experience by 
telling you too much, and I don't want to heighten your expectations should you 
undertake jhana practice yourself (which I hope you will). 

First Jhana 
The first jhana is like the "big wow," an awesome peak experience that arises 
after the mind has finally settled on the object of concentration with focused, 
sustained, one-pointed attention. Bodily or emotional rapture called piti may 
arise, suffusing the body with bliss or filling the mind with awe --sometimes 
the feeling is more "gross" and embodied, other times more subtle and purely 
mental. In my experience, the nimitta would become radiant, awesome, and 
beautiful, and grow to fill my entire field of vision, and surround my body; 
the experience was like a glowing, energetic light surrounding and cocooning my 
whole being. It's quite captivating. There is also a sense of seclusion -- of 
finally being safe from the chattering mind. From my Jewish spiritual 
perspective, this was like holiness as the big amazing awesomeness, full of 
mysterium tremendum and radical amazement. It's Niagara Falls, the Grand 
Canyon. Like many mystics, I'll use erotic
 analogies as well; the first jhana is like having sex, before orgasm: panting, 
arousing, ah--ahh---ahh--- that sort of thing.  
Eventually, though, the first jhana begins to feel like too much effort. You 
have to work to keep it up. This is its advantage -- if you didn't work, you 
wouldn't get in -- but eventually, after anywhere from fifteen minutes to an 
hour or more (my longest was one hour), the mind gets tired of ecstasy, 
excitement, and bliss and moves naturally onto the second jhana. 
The transition between jhanas is always from gross to subtle: the more gross 
factors drop off, revealing the more subtle ones underneath. In the case of 
first-to-second, the factors of applied and sustained thought drop, and the 
other factors --rapture, joy, and one-pointedness of mind -- reveal themselves 
more. Usually this "drop" is conscious; after a few weeks of practice, I would 
feel a kind of mental itchiness when it was time to move on, and would 
consciously resolve to let the factors drop and the others predominate. A few 
times, though, the drop happened automatically; the mind would just bail out. 
Eventually, the four jhanas are kind of like four rooms in a house that you've 
come to know; you don't even have to make the resolve clearly, because you know 
the territory, and can recognize it and adjust quite naturally.

Second Jhana 
In the second jhana, the feeling tone shifts to joy -- "drenched in delight" in 
Shaila Catherine's words. Effort drops away, and the mind rests one-pointed on 
its focus. I experienced the second jhana as being like swimming in a mikva of 
light -- in my journal one time, I wrote that when the nimitta expands, it is a 
"waterfall of shimmering light that fills your body with joy." Again, sometimes 
this was a semi-bodily sensation, other times purely mental. There was often a 
bright light in my eyes as well--more on that below -- and sometimes a deep 
sense of healing. This is it, you're here, you can trust and let go. The sexual 
analogy here is to the time of orgasm itself -- not the first moment, but the 
longer period of time if, like me, you like really long and drawn-out orgasmic 
states. It's like that gorgeous sexual feeling of letting go: not ah-ah-ah, but 
ahhhhhh. Sometimes it really felt as if the light were kissing me, penetrating 
me, filling me.
 This is God as lover; the fascinans, the erotic partner envisioned and 
embodied by mystics. It's really something. 
Believe it or not, the mind eventually finds all this ecstasy, even without 
effort, a little gross. Piti becomes too showy; it's almost exhausting. Now, 
when I was first learning the jhanas, I would spend several days with each one 
before moving on. Part of this was to really nail down the jhana; the Buddha 
said that someone who moves on too fast is like a foolish cow wandering from 
pasture to pasture. But another part was that it took me a while to get 
disenchanted with these states. For several days, I couldn't imagine anything 
more wonderful than the second jhana. But eventually, disenchantment sets in -- 
once again, an insight that is, itself, worth the price of admission. 
Eventually, the mind gets disenchanted with anything. So the grosser factor of 
rapture drops away, leaving behind only joy and one-pointedness.

Third Jhana 
If the second jhana is like an orgasm with God, the third jhana is like resting 
comfortably on the breast of the Goddess; its dominant sensation is 
contentment. Here, the love is less erotic and more familial; it's like being 
cradled by your mother -- that kind of "ahh." The light I experienced was 
golden, radiant, and warm. Many times, I cried and felt healed. Other times, I 
was still and concentrated. And sometimes, I felt like a little boy sitting by 
the window, with sunshine streaming in. In the third jhana, piti is 
relinquished, and sukha, joy, becomes predominant. Sukha is quieter and more 
subtle than piti, it's less embodied, and more like an emotional, intellectual 
joy with a honey-like embodied component. Meditators know sukha from whenever 
the mind in concentrated and everything just feels lovely. The mind is content. 
What could ever be wrong with the world? Of course, sukha is so lovely that we 
naturally cling to it, which means we suffer when
 it's gone -- that's what's wrong. But for me, I spent about three years 
cultivating sukha, thinking it was enlightenment, and being devastated when, a 
few days after retreat, it seemed to disappear.

Fourth Jhana 
Finally, there is the fourth jhana--the real point of it all, it sometimes 
seems. In the fourth jhana, even joy passes away. The experience is totally 
neutral: just "Ah," as in "Ah, I see." And yet, it somehow -- just is. I can't 
quite describe it; there's a powerful sense of equanimity, a closeness to the 
object, and not much else. Somehow, this state is the most beautiful at all, 
even though it is totally colorless, bliss-less. The erotic flavor is not even 
post-orgasmic; it's post-post. The mind is clear, the restlessness is gone. It 
doesn't feel good anymore, but in some deep profound way, it feels extremely 
good and peaceful that it's not even necessary to feel good. This is not awe, 
not love; it's just What Is. It's a love beyond love; satisfaction without joy 
or even contentment.  
For me, the fourth jhana is really the point, because it leads to one of the 
deep insights of the jhanas: that God is not in the fire, or the earthquake, or 
the flood. There's a tendency that all of us have to deify and thus idol-ize 
certain states. Oh, that gorgeous warmth of lighting candles. Oh, we were so 
high during that drum circle / yoga session / whatever, that was really it. But 
that's not it. It is what's always here; Ein Sof, everything. If it wasn't 
always here, it isn't it. Even the fourth jhana isn't it -- it's a state, with 
equanimity and focus that are conditioned, and thus pass away after a time. You 
can't cling to it either. 
Ramana Maharshi said, "Let come what comes, let go what goes. See what 
remains." That is the essence of enlightenment right there, I'm telling you. 
The way leads nowhere. There is no state that is it. This is it; just this. Not 
feeling special about this, not feeling relaxed or wise or anything in 
particular -- although sometimes those feelings may arise in the wake of 
letting go. Just is.  
Now, does that mean that mystical states -- including the jhanas themselves -- 
are without value? No, not at all. By fulfilling this spiritual seeker's 
wildest dreams of joy and rapture, the jhanas point to the limitations of 
states, chiefly their transient nature. And in my next post, I'll describe in 
some detail the benefits as well as the limitations of spiritual states of all 
kinds, mundane to marvelous.  For now, I hope I've tempted some of you to 
consider jhana practice, because it can blow your mind, change your life, and 
offer new perspectives on the mind.   If you're interested in learning more, 
some resources are below: 

* Website of one of my teachers, Leigh Brasington 
* Website of American students of Pa Auk Sayadaw who now teach on their own 
* The Pali Canon on jhanas 
 
Source:   http://www.realitysandwich.com/jhanas_meditative_absorptions
 
 
 
--- In [email protected], mike brown <uerusuboyo@...> wrote:
>
> ED,
> 
> Aaagh! I posted part 2 first. This is part 1 and describes the jhanas 
> beautifully. Please read and give me your impressions.
> 
> Mike
> 
> Religion & Beliefs
> A Jewish Perspective on the JhanasBy Jay Michaelson / January 29, 2009
<snip>




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