Observation Log of Ruben: Over the past two days, during seated meditation focusing on the breath at the nostrils, the practice has primarily centered on cultivating stillness (śamatha) and training the legs. There have been no particular meditative states or experiences. The right leg feels somewhat more flexible than before. Each sitting involves full lotus position for about half an hour, followed by half lotus, or half lotus for fifty minutes before switching legs. The pain is not particularly intense, and an hour doesn't feel very long anymore.
After rising from meditation, while moving about during the day, I constantly maintain an intention (manasikāra) like an outsider, observing how this body actually moves. Using a mind free of language, thought, or reasoning, I watch, listen, and know—whether it's myself or others opening the mouth to speak, chewing food, smiling and showing teeth, eyes moving, or raising hands, lifting legs, and walking past.
It's crucial not to mentally analyze, saying things like "this is the function of manas (the thinking mind)," "this is the function of consciousness (vijñāna)," "this is the function of ear-consciousness," "this is the function of body-consciousness," etc. Instead, maintain the mindset of an outsider: do not assist or participate, do not assist in analysis. Only then can that detached perspective arise, observing the changing processes of body and mind from the side. Within this, the movement of consciousness is very subtle; one can only understand it through direct experience.
Sometimes, at certain moments, I turn back to observe what this mind that cognizes and discriminates is actually like. How exactly do body and mind operate in mutual response? Simply hold this doubt (vicikitsā) without engaging in thinking or reasoning. Moreover, I feel that once thinking and reasoning are added, the desire and strength to continue experiencing and investigating vanish. I increasingly feel that my meditative stability (samādhi) is still quite deficient. Sometimes, after talking with people extensively, it's easy to lose the power of mindful awareness (smṛti). Habitual tendencies (vāsanā) are not easy to control, and I often need to return to the breath to settle. I increasingly feel the importance of cultivating samādhi and perceive the difference between direct experience and intellectual knowledge.
Commentary: During observation practice, try to maintain simple knowing (jñāna). Do not deliberately add subjective conscious thinking and analysis. Avoid conscious subjective thoughts. Do not bring in any preconceived notions. Calm the mind, let go, and relax the mind. All things are silently attended to and managed by manas. Trust the master (the innate awareness). Sometimes, excessive knowledge can also be a burden, hindering manas's own deliberation and observation, making it impossible to see the truth and facts clearly, and preventing realization (abhisamaya). Various successful individuals in society are not necessarily those with vast knowledge, but rather those with deep, subtle thinking and unique insights. They are people whose manas is wise, people with considerable practical experience—not those who rely on empty thoughts in the brain or empty talk from the mouth. Empty talk often leads nations astray.
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