Mindfulness

This process--to shed light on all things, to produce the power of concentration, and to bring forth deep insight and awakening--is called in Buddhism the "Threefold Training": Sila (precepts), samadhi (concentration), and prajna (insight). The word "sila" also means mindfulness, because  the essence of the precepts is mindfulness. Precepts in Buddhism are not imposed by some outside authority. They arise from our own insight based on the practice of mindfulness. To be attached to the form without understanding the essence is to fall into what Buddhism calls attachment to rules. We realize insight by practicing mindfulness of our body, feelings, mind, and objects of our mind, which are the world. That is why the first part of The Little Manual [Vietnamese monastic training and practice guide] consists of mindfulness verses to memorize, and is called "Practice in Everyday Life."

When a scientist works in her laboratory, she does not smoke, eat sweets, or listen to the radio. The scientist refrains from doing these things not because they are immoral, but because she knows that they impede perfect concentration on the object of her study. It is the same in Zen. The precepts help us live in mindfulness.

In Zen, insight cannot be obtained just by the intellect--study, hypothesis, analysis, synthesis. The Zen student must use his or her entire being as an instrument of realization, the intellect is only one part of our being, and a part that often pulls us away from living reality, which is the very substance of Zen. That is why The Little Manual does not present Buddhism as a theory--it introduces the practitioner directly into the daily practice of Zen.

In the monastery, the practitioner does everything in mindfulness: carries water, looks for firewood, prepares food, plants lettuce. . . . Although we learn to meditate in the sitting position, we also learn to be mindful while carrying water, cooking, or planting lettuce. We know that to carry water is not merely a utilitarian action, it is the very essence of Zen. If we do not practice while carrying water, it is a waste of time to seclude ourselves in a monastery. But if we are mindful of each thing we do, even if we do the exact same things as others, we can enter directly into the world of Zen.

A Zen master observes the student in silence, while the student tries to bring the practice into every moment of life. The student may feel that he is not receiving enough attention, but his ways and acts cannot escape the observation of the master. The master can see if the student is or is not "awake." If, for example, the student shuts the door noisily or carelessly, he is demonstrating a lack of mindfulness. Closing the door gently is not in itself a virtuous act, but awareness of the fact that you are closing the door is an expression of real practice. In this case, the master simply reminds the student to close the door gently, to be mindful. The master does this not only to respect the quiet of the monastery, but to point out to the student that he was not practicing mindfulness, that his acts were not majestic or subtle. It is said in Buddhism that there are ninety thousand "subtle gestures" to practice. These gestures and acts are expressions of the presence of mindfulness. All that we say, think, and do in mindfulness are described as having "the flavor of Zen."

If a practitioner hears himself reproached for lacking the "flavor of Zen" in what he says and does, he should recognize that he is being reminded to live his life in mindfulness.

---Thich Nhat Hanh---