How Can One Attain Access Concentration?

To attain access concentration and maintain it, one must focus the mind on the present task at hand in daily life, particularly on essential matters, while trivial affairs need not be given excessive attention. When engaged in unimportant activities, concentrate on the inner state; merely be peripherally aware of external affairs without dwelling on or clinging to them. Only by relinquishing certain things can one gain others. If the mind is preoccupied with everything, mastery of anything becomes impossible, ultimately leading to the failure of all endeavors. It is essential to train oneself to detach from distractions at any time and place, devoting undivided attention to primary tasks. Only when the mind is free from distractions can meditative concentration arise.

To achieve success in life, one must learn to focus, selecting and prioritizing essential tasks while minimizing mental energy expended on useless matters. Once meditative concentration is cultivated, wisdom in action increases, enabling excellence in all subsequent undertakings. If one becomes interested in and invests effort into everything, it is possible to gain superficial knowledge of many things, yet true mastery remains elusive. Mastery holds far greater importance and significance than mere familiarity. Mastery represents wisdom; with wisdom, nothing is impossible to accomplish—including the attainment of Buddhahood.

People in modern times are often greedy: interested in everything, eager to know everything, wanting to participate in everything. Their desires are too numerous, their attention too scattered, often resulting in the failure to accomplish anything substantial and the inability to gain anything meaningful. This is the fate of those who do not understand discernment and letting go. If you wish to attain something, you must pursue it with single-minded focus, relinquishing many unnecessary people and affairs; only then can your aspirations be fully realized. A person has only two hands, yet desires to grasp everything. The result is like a bear cub picking corn—picking one ear only to drop another—and it is fortunate indeed to end up with even one ear.

Examine the multitude of apps you have downloaded and the volume of content you follow; this will reveal whether you can cultivate meditative concentration and attain mental stability. What benefit is there in following all those things for a lifetime? What good is it to know all the myriad novelties of the world? What do you actually gain? What is it you truly seek in this life?

There are also those who have studied Buddhism for ten or twenty years yet have not found a Dharma practice that resonates with them. They dabble in every method, study every teaching, appearing erudite on the surface, yet in reality, they have mastered nothing, understood no method deeply. They wander aimlessly, rushing east and west, utterly unable to find their spiritual home—how pitiable is that?

From childhood, my habit has been to focus intently on my inner world, always contemplating my own thoughts, with little interest in external people or affairs. I often remained unaware of many events happening around me, appearing somewhat rigid to others. Yet I was very steady, mentally mature—even more so than adults—possessing my own perspective on everything, not swayed by popular opinion. At home, I concerned myself with nothing. When groups of people gathered to discuss various matters nearby, I rarely participated. During festivals and holidays, I would hide in a corner with a book. My family assigned me no chores, allowing me only to study. It was only after leaving home to become a monastic that I learned to handle miscellaneous tasks like cooking. Once I learned something, I performed it well due to my focused attention.

From a young age, I also had the habit of solitude. I never engaged in frivolous, wide-ranging chatter with others, preferring instead to be alone whenever possible, no matter the activity. Back then, I enjoyed walking. After dinner each evening, I would go out for about an hour, walking very fast—it was not a stroll. Others couldn't keep up because I disliked having anyone disturb my train of thought. My mind was entirely focused on certain contemplations, oblivious to surrounding people and events, completely immersed in my own thoughts. If someone tried to accompany me, I would turn a few corners and lose them. I never strolled with others because there was nothing to discuss, unless I needed to talk to someone about specific matters or engage in guiding someone's thoughts. Only then would I slow my pace to converse. Otherwise, I always walked alone, swiftly, with no one able to match my speed. In truth, this was practicing concentration—not wasting time and energy on meaningless people and affairs, eliminating distracting thoughts, and focusing the mind inward.