We often speak of “observing the mind,” yet many people do not actually know how to do it. In reality, it simply means that when a thought arises, you clearly recognize what it is, and immediately apply an antidote. If a wholesome thought arises (such as moral shame or remorse), allow it to continue, but do not cling to it, since it is not truly real. If an unwholesome thought arises—whether a root affliction (mūla-kleśa), a minor subsidiary affliction (upakleśa), or an intermediate subsidiary affliction—then immediately eliminate it using the methods described earlier.
One of the Four Right Efforts (samyakpradhāna) in the Saṃyukta Āgama states: “ ‘Repeated abandonment’ means that when unwholesome states arise, they are cut off; should they arise again, one applies greater diligence to prevent their re-arising—thus abandoning them again and again is called ‘repeated abandonment.’” This is essentially the same as what I have just described: once affliction appears, recognize it and immediately cut it off. However, this is somewhat difficult.
In fact, what we call “practice” is the cultivation of the aggregate of formations (saṃskāra-skandha). Yet this aggregate is extremely difficult to cultivate, because we are incessantly tormented by all kinds of mental movements without even knowing their cause. We then go to ask some “Rinpoche” or “Guru”: “Am I suffering like this because of something I did in a past life?” This is nothing more than a story-seeking mentality. If we happen to encounter a charlatan who says, “It’s because you spat at me in a past life,” we might immediately prostrate, make offerings, and praise him as a great master—thus utterly being deceived.
In truth, observing the mind is not about searching for such stories, but about identifying which category of mental factor a particular state of mind belongs to. This is the study of Yogācāra (Vijñaptimātratā), which is why it is more complex than Madhyamaka. Madhyamaka is a profound teaching—it simply cuts through everything at once: regardless of what mental factor arises, it declares that all are empty, almost like a “shortcut.” Yogācāra, however, requires that once a mental factor arises, you must distinguish exactly which one it is. When you become proficient in this process, you have in fact established a mechanism for observing the mind.
The moment a mental factor arises, turn inward to observe it immediately, rather than being swept away by its momentum. For example, if you are struck, anger (krodha) arises at the moment; afterwards, upon recalling the event, resentment may also arise. With such training, you will immediately recognize, “I am now experiencing resentment.” This is the elevation of mental activity into the level of theory—what we call “practice giving rise to theory.” Then, in turn, theory guides how your mind should function correctly: if it is a wholesome state, you nurture it while reminding yourself it is not real; if it is unwholesome, you eliminate it.
How do you nurture it? Remind yourself that this will allow you to accumulate great merit (puṇya). Willingly offer this merit to the Guru and the Three Jewels, and dedicate it to all sentient beings. At the same time, recognize that although it has functional value, it is not real and lacks inherent essence—this is the training in one-sided emptiness. This remedy is identical to that previously described for pleasant feelings.
For unwholesome mental states, the goal is to cut them off and bring them to cessation. Sometimes this is achieved through samādhi, and sometimes through reflective antidotes. For example, if anger arises because someone hit you, you counteract the cause of that emotion: either by directly recognizing that the event itself is illusory, or by viewing the person who hit you as your mother. By addressing the cause, the anger dissolves.
Another approach is to counteract anger itself directly, for instance through samādhi. However, meditative stability requires consistent cultivation, and many people here may not be able to do this due to busy daily work, so it may sound impractical. Yet for some practitioners in meditation centers, this is possible—when anger arises, they use the power of concentration to bring the mind back to calm, and the anger quickly subsides.
If samādhi is not available, then rely on analytical contemplation. When anger arises, reflect: “I am experiencing anger now; this is mistaken and carries harmful consequences. I am willing to take upon myself this fault on behalf of all sentient beings who suffer from it, and I will not allow this fault to continue.”
There is a subtle difference here. When counteracting suffering, we say we are willing to take on this suffering in place of all sentient beings, and it may seem that we are no longer trying to eliminate it. So does the same apply to anger? One might worry that by ‘taking it on,’ we are holding onto it. But thinking this way shows a lack of actual practice. When you sincerely wish to shoulder the fault of anger for the sake of all beings, at that very moment, the anger begins to dissolve naturally. This is because you have already observed it and recognized it as a fault, and thus it cannot sustain itself.
Another effective method is one-sided emptiness. If ultimate emptiness (śūnyatā) cannot be realized, we can use this provisional approach. When anger is felt, reflect that it is false, or directly experience it as false through conceptual insight—both methods work. This is similar to counteracting pleasant feeling, except pleasant feeling is more enjoyable—you can savor it, like juicy beef, while recognizing it as unreal. Anger, however, is unpleasant, but once this contemplation gains strength, even the discomfort can be eliminated.
With prolonged habituation to this kind of thinking, it gains strength and exerts a powerful influence on the mind. It is like repeatedly telling someone you love them and will follow them—once that force is formed, you become deaf to the advice of others, yet you will immediately comply with that person’s every request. The mind develops this kind of power through habituation, and this too is a method for dealing with mental factors.
—Excerpted and compiled from The Arising and Antidotes of Afflictions
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
