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Chapter Seven

Fleshing out the Four Tetrads

Although the four tetrads constitute the Buddha’s most extensive instructions on what to do when you sit down to meditate, they are still very terse. As one writer has commented, they are more like a telegram than a full text. This should come as no surprise, for—as we noted in the Introduction—these instructions were never meant to stand on their own. They were embedded in a canon of texts memorized by a community of practitioners who would use them simply as memory aids, both for teachers and for students. This means that they had to be long enough to convey the most important points—such as the fact that breath meditation is a proactive process designed to give insight into the processes of fabrication—but short enough to be easily memorized.

They also had to indicate, through inclusion, which aspects of the practice held true across the board; and, through silence and exclusion, which aspects allowed for variations from case to case. If everything were mentioned, the sheer volume of instructions would have been unwieldy, making it difficult to sort out which instructions were meant for everyone, and which for specific cases. So the terseness of the instructions, instead of being a shortcoming, is actually one of their strengths.

As we have seen from the preceding chapters, a great deal of practical, nuts-and-bolts advice can be unpacked from the tetrads when you look at them carefully, but even when unpacked they still leave many gaps. To get the most out of these memory aids, you have to fill these gaps in.

There are two places to look for information that will help you do this: within the Canon and outside it.

Within the Canon you can find this sort of information in three ways. The first is to look at how the tetrads provide perspective on one another. As we noted in the preceding chapter, they deal with four aspects of a single process—using the breath as a focal point for remaining focused on the body in and of itself – ardent, alert, and mindful – while subduing greed and distress with reference to the world—but the connection among the tetrads goes deeper than that.

This is because of the role of perceptions and feelings as mental fabrications. On the one hand, the bodily fabrication provided by the breath is sure to produce feelings; the feelings, then, can be used to manipulate states of mind. Similarly, perceptions are needed to stay focused on the breath—some dealing directly with the breath, others focused more on inducing the mental quality of dispassion for any distractions that would pull you away from the breath. These, too, will have an impact on states of mind, and on the function MN 118 assigns to the fourth tetrad. This means that when you encounter a problem in putting any of the tetrads into practice, you can often find a solution by looking at related steps in another tetrad. We have already given some indication in the preceding chapter of how this can be done, and we will draw additional connections among the tetrads below.

The second way to flesh out the tetrads with material from within the Canon is to draw from other discourses in the Canon that provide insight into how to use the four frames of reference when developing breath meditation as a basis for tranquility and insight—both as means to concentration and as activities for using concentration to develop discernment.

The third way is to look to other passages in the Canon for alternative themes of meditation that will help in dealing with issues in these four frames of reference. In other words, when you can’t get the mind to accomplish any of the trainings contained in the sixteen steps by working within these frameworks, you look for help from other, subsidiary themes of meditation. The Buddha’s general instructions on how and when to do this come in SN 47:10. Because there is some controversy over how to understand this discourse, it’s worth looking at in detail:

The main controversy over this passage concerns how to understand the distinction between directing and not-directing the mind. One interpretation argues that directing the mind refers to jhāna practice; and not-directing the mind, to mindfulness practice: the former inducing a narrow range of awareness; the latter, a broader one. If you came to this passage with the idea that jhāna and the establishing of mindfulness are two radically different practices, you could find a few passages in this discourse that would seem to support that interpretation. The passage on directing the mind contains references to rapture, pleasure, concentration, directed thought, and evaluation, all of which are normally associated with jhāna, whereas the passage on not-directing the mind describes the mind as being unconstricted and released when developing any of the establishings of mindfulness.

However, unconstricted doesn’t mean a broad range of awareness. According to SN 51:20, constricted simply means slothful or drowsy. So unconstricted means free of sloth and drowsiness. And when you remember that the Buddha did not draw a radical distinction between mindfulness and jhāna—as we have noted, the four establishings are the themes of jhāna (MN 44) and are themselves counted as a type of concentration (AN 8:63, [Thai: AN 8:70])—then you can see that this discourse is addressing a different issue entirely. Instead of drawing a distinction between mindfulness and concentration, it’s giving advice on how to use mindfulness to bring the mind to right concentration in different situations. In some cases, mindfulness employs the four frames of reference; in others, it employs other themes.

When the mind doesn’t respond properly to any of the four establishings of mindfulness—when, while focusing on any of the four frames of reference, it feels feverish, sluggish, or scattered—then you can follow the instructions for directing it. You call to mind a subsidiary theme that will gladden it or chasten it and allow it to settle down. When it’s firmly settled, you can drop any thinking connected with the subsidiary theme, and this will bring the mind to a state of mindful ease equivalent to the second jhāna, free from directed thought and evaluation.

On other occasions, when the mind settles down easily—when it drops thoughts about external preoccupations and at the same time isn’t slothful or drowsy—then you follow the instructions for non-directing the mind. You simply note that it’s released from distraction and drowsiness, and it will naturally settle into the activities of any one of the establishings of mindfulness. This in turn will provide a theme for the practice of jhāna.

In this way SN 47:10 gives general instructions on how to deal with the mind both when it is amenable to settling down with any of the four frames of reference and when it is not. The instructions in this discourse parallel the observation in MN 101, that there are times when problems in the mind respond to simple on-looking equanimity, and other times when they require conscious fabrication. In this case, the mind requires more conscious fabrication when it has trouble settling down with the four frames of reference. SN 47:10 provides no specific guidance on which subsidiary themes to use when that is the case; for that, we have to look to other discourses. That is a third way of looking within the Canon for help in filling in the gaps in the four tetrads.

There are also three ways of looking for information from outside the Canon to fill in these gaps. The first is to ask for advice from living people who are proficient in breath meditation. The Canon itself encourages this approach in AN 4:94, which advises you to approach a person skilled in insight and tranquility and to ask for instructions on how to develop those qualities in your own mind. Similarly, AN 9:36 recommends asking those who are skilled in attaining and emerging from both the dimension of neither perception nor non-perception and the cessation of perception and feeling for instruction in how to attain and emerge from those dimensions. The same principle applies here.

The second way to look outside the Canon for information that will fill in the gaps in the four tetrads is to experiment on your own. The Canon implicitly advises this method in passages where it makes distinctions without explaining them. We have already encountered a passage of this sort in MN 101, quoted in Chapter Two, dealing with the question of whether the causes of stress are to be abandoned through exertion or equanimity. Here’s another passage of a similar sort:

This passage is fairly opaque. It gives no indication of what the qualities acting as a foothold for rapture as a factor for awakening might be. But the opacity can be seen as serving a purpose, in that it forces you to look to your own experience, or for advice from others, to discover what those qualities are. This would provide useful exercise in developing your own powers of ingenuity and discernment.

The third way to look outside the Canon for information that will fill in the gaps in the four tetrads is to consult books dealing with these topics. Normally this would include the commentarial literature—such as the Visuddhimagga (Path of Purity) or the commentaries and sub-commentaries on the various sections of the Canon—but in the case of breath meditation, this literature diverges widely from what the Canon has to say. Beginning with step 3 in the breath meditation instructions, it tries to force the practice of breath meditation into the mold of kasiṇa practice, a practice rarely mentioned in the Canon but which had become paradigmatic by the time the Visuddhimagga was compiled. Because of the divergence from the Canon in this area, I have not chosen to draw on this literature in this book.

Although this book falls under this third general category, the main focus of this chapter will be on the three ways of looking within the Canon for advice on how to flesh out the four tetrads: drawing on insights from other tetrads, drawing on passages from other discourses that give advice on how to use the four frames of reference as themes in developing tranquility and insight, and drawing on passages that give advice on how to use other themes to accomplish the trainings contained in the sixteen steps.

However, it’s important to bear in mind that the actual practice of breath meditation will require you to look outside the Canon for guidance as well. The Canon was never meant to function on its own as a guide to the practice. Instead, it takes for granted a living community of practitioners who can provide apprenticeship in the practice of meditation. This is why MN 95 lists the qualities to look for in reliable teachers: that they be free of the sort of greed, aversion, and delusion that would cause them to claim knowledge they don’t have or to tell you to do things that would harm you. At the same time, MN 80 lists the qualities you need to look for in yourself: that you be observant and honest. So when, in the course of this chapter, we encounter steps that are difficult to flesh out simply on the basis of the Canon, you will know where else to look—both within yourself and without—to fill in the gaps.

MN 118 introduces the sixteen steps with a brief preamble:

With the exception of one word, this preamble is self-explanatory. The one word is parimukhaṁ, translated here as “to the fore.” An Abhidhamma text, Vibhaṅga 12:1, when commenting on this passage, gives a literal interpretation of this word, saying that parimukha (literally, “around the mouth”) means focused on the tip of the nose or the “sign” of the mouth. However, the term appears throughout the suttas as part of a stock phrase describing a person engaged in meditation, even for themes where awareness should obviously not be restricted to one point in the body, and for themes that have nothing to do with the body at all. For example, in Ud 7:8, Ven. MahāKaccāyana establishes mindfulness parimukhaṁ when engaged in mindfulness immersed in the body, a theme that requires contemplation of the entire body; in MN 62, Ven. Rāhula establishes mindfulness parimukhaṁ when contemplating the theme of not-self with regard to the five aggregates; in AN 3:64, the Buddha establishes mindfulness parimukhaṁ when developing the four brahma-vihāras: thoughts of unlimited goodwill, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity for all beings. If the compilers of the Canon had meant it to have different meanings in different meditative contexts, they would have said so. But they didn’t. So the meaning of the term should be consistent throughout those contexts. And because it makes no sense to say that a person contemplating any of the above topics should focus awareness exclusively on one part of the body to the exclusion of others—and because, in step 3 of the first tetrad in breath meditation, the awareness will become whole-body anyway—it makes more sense to interpret the phrase, “mindfulness established parimukhaṁ” as an idiom for bringing mindfulness to the fore. In other words, you bring the topic you plan to keep in mind up to the forefront of your awareness.

Because steps 1 and 2 are not described as “trainings,” we can infer that in the beginning stages of familiarizing yourself with the breath you don’t consciously try to adjust it. You simply try to discern variations in the breath. The same principle would appear to apply to questions of whether the breath is fast or slow, shallow or deep, heavy or light.

However, steps 3 and 4 are described as trainings, and there are several reasons for assuming that you would consciously try to adjust the breath in these steps. With step 4 this principle is obvious: You’re trying to calm the effect of the breath on the felt sense of the body. As for step 3, there are two reasons for assuming a similar principle at work. But before we look at those reasons, we have to discuss what the instructions in step 3 actually say, for there is a controversy as to what they mean by “entire body.”

The commentaries—molding the practice of breath meditation into the pattern of kasiṇa practice, in which the mind has to become focused exclusively on a single point—insist that “body” here means the breath, and that the “entire body” means the entire length of the breath, felt at one spot in the body, such as the tip of the nose or the upper lip.

This interpretation, however, is unlikely for several reasons. The first is that the commentaries’ interpretation of step 3 makes it redundant with steps 1 and 2. It’s hard to understand how you could know whether the breath is long or short in those steps without being aware of the full length of the breath.

The second reason is that step 3 is immediately followed by step 4, which—without further explanation—refers to the breath as “bodily fabrication.” If the Buddha were using two different terms to refer to the breath in such close proximity—“body” in step 3, and “bodily fabrication” in step 4—he would have been careful to signal that he was redefining his terms (as he does in a later part of the discourse, when explaining that the first four steps in breath meditation correspond to the practice of focusing on the body in and of itself as a frame of reference). But here he doesn’t.

The third reason is that the similes for the jhānas, which are attained through the sixteen steps, repeatedly mention a full-body awareness. If the mind were forced exclusively into a single point, it wouldn’t be able to spread feelings of rapture or pleasure throughout the entire body in the first three jhānas, or to fill the body with a clear bright awareness in the fourth.

One response to this last argument is that the word “body” in the similes for jhāna doesn’t mean the physical body, because a person in jhāna has to be oblivious to the physical body. Instead, “body” is meant metaphorically as a term for the “body” of the mind.

Putting aside the question of why someone with the Buddha’s teaching skills would use terms in such a potentially confusing way in his basic meditation instructions, we can simply note that in MN 119 he gives the similes for the jhānas immediately after his discussion of six ways of focusing on the physical body. As in the case of steps 3 and 4 in breath meditation, if he had meant “body” to mean “physical body” in one context, and “mind body” in the discussion immediately following it, he would have signaled that he was redefining his terms. But again he doesn’t.

So unless we want to assume that the Buddha was careless or devious in his meditation instructions, it seems best to interpret “body” as meaning “physical body” in all of these contexts, and to interpret “entire body” in step 3 as referring to the entire physical body as sensed from within.

Although step 3 doesn’t say to adjust the breath as part of being sensitive to the entire body, there are—as we noted above—two reasons to assume that some manipulation of the breath is involved. To begin with, step 3 as a prelude to step 4 is aimed at sensitizing yourself to the way the breath fabricates your sense of the body as felt from within. To gain this sort of sensitivity, you have to adjust the breath to see what impact that has on the various properties of the body as sensed from within.

MN 140 lists these properties as five: the properties of earth, water, fire, wind, and space.

According to MN 28, three of these properties—water, fire, and wind—have the potential to become “provoked” (kuppa). In other words, when stimulated, they can become quite volatile. So when you explore the ways in which the in-and-out breath fabricates the inner sense of the body, these are the three properties most directly responsive to influences from the breath. With regard to the water property, this could mean breathing in such a way as to raise or lower the blood pressure, for example, or to change the flow of the blood through different parts of the body: away from an area feeling excess pressure (as when you have a headache) or toward an area that has been injured and needs the extra nourishment that a healthy blood flow would provide. With regard to the fire property, this could mean breathing in such a way as to feel warmer when the weather is cold, or cooler when it’s hot. With regard to the wind property, this could mean breathing in ways that would regulate the flow of the energy already coursing through the different parts of the body.

The act of regulating the energy flow in the body connects directly with the second reason mentioned above for assuming that step 3 would involve adjusting the in-and-out breath. The standard similes for the first three jhānas (MN 119, cited above in Chapter One) state that you allow the sense of pleasure and/or rapture arising from those states of concentration to permeate throughout the body. This step is greatly facilitated if you know how to adjust the in-and-out breath so that the energy flow in the body allows for rapture and pleasure to spread in this way.

For these reasons, it seems best to interpret step 3 as including not only the ability to be sensitive to the entire body throughout the in-and-out breath—to prepare you for the full-body awareness developed in jhāna—but also the ability to consciously adjust the breath in a way that allows you to do two things: to spread pleasure and rapture throughout the body in the first three jhānas, and to develop a more general sensitivity to how the breath is the primary bodily fabrication in its effect on the other properties of the body. Of course, this adjustment has to be developed as a skill. If you apply too much pressure or are too heavy-handed in your efforts to adjust the properties of the body, it will give rise to the “fevers” mentioned in SN 47:10. That will require you to step back from the breath and turn the mind to another theme for a while until you feel calmed enough to return to the breath.

The same point applies to step 4. If you apply too much force to calm the breath, it will play havoc with the properties of the body. The body will be starved of breath energy, and again a “bodily fever” will result. At the same time, it’s important to remember—in line with MN 118’s explanation of the relationship between rapture and calm as factors for awakening—that one of the most effective ways of calming bodily fabrication is first to breathe in a way that induces a sense of rapture to energize the body and mind. Otherwise, the act of calming bodily fabrication will have a stultifying effect, leading to one of the other problems mentioned in SN 47:10: a sluggishness or constriction in your awareness.

Steps 5 and 6 are a necessary part of training the mind, for they strengthen the mind in two ways. First, they provide a pleasant abiding in the present moment that allows the mind to withstand, at least temporarily, the types of pleasure and pain that would otherwise divert it from the path.

Second, the rapture and pleasure provided by jhāna give discernment the support it needs to overcome sensuality entirely.

AN 7:63, in its simile of the frontier fortress, compares the various levels of jhāna to food for the soldiers of right effort and for the gatekeeper of right mindfulness. Only if the mind can experience a pleasure and rapture not of the flesh—in other words, not connected with sensuality—will it have the nourishment it needs to keep itself protected.

In step 5, the Pāli word for “rapture” (pīti) is related to the verb pivati, to drink. Several passages in the discourses describe rapture as the food of the Radiant devas, inhabitants of a brahmā world into which meditators can be reborn through mastery of the second jhāna (DN 1; Dhp 200; AN 4:123). “Rapture” thus carries connotations of refreshment and rejuvenation. In the standard similes for the four jhānas, rapture is symbolized by movement: the movement of water through the bathman’s ball of bathing powder in the simile for the first jhāna, and the natural movement of spring water throughout the lake in the simile for the second. Only in the third jhāna, where rapture is absent, does the water of the lake fall still.

Rapture can be felt both mentally and physically, a fact indicated by two passages from the discourses. The description of the seven factors for awakening in MN 118 speaks of the meditator who has attained rapture as a factor of awakening as being “enraptured in heart.” The standard similes for the jhānas speak of the body as being permeated, pervaded, suffused, and filled with rapture when you are in the first and second jhānas.

However, rapture is not a feeling. In other words, in and of itself it is neither pleasant nor painful. Instead, it is more a quality of energy. None of the discourses describe the ways in which rapture may manifest, but later writings indicate that it can take many forms, some very gentle, others very intense: a thrill running through the body, or a wave washing over it. Some people find the resulting feeling of fullness pleasant; others find it threatening. This is largely a matter of perception. A sensation that one person perceives as quenching a thirst, another may perceive as akin to drowning. This fact in itself is an excellent indication of why perception is listed as a factor fabricating the mind, and why experience in dealing with rapture gives insight into how to handle perception skillfully in steps 7 and 8.

The fact that the sensations accompanying rapture can become unpleasant explains why the third jhāna—where rapture fades—is a more pleasant abiding than the second, and why the step of breath meditation aimed at pleasure is listed after the step aimed at rapture.

Training in rapture relates to several other steps of breathing meditation as well. Because rapture can be either physical or mental, some of the ways of inducing it will relate to how you adjust the breath in steps 3 and 4; others will relate to exercises in step 10: gladdening the mind. The highest level of rapture—what SN 36:31 calls “rapture more not-of-the-flesh than that not of the flesh”—is the rapture felt by an arahant when reflecting on the fact that his/her mind is totally free from passion, aversion, and delusion. This would result from the successful completion of steps 12 through 16.

Sukha—the word translated as “pleasure” in step 6—is the opposite of dukkha (stress, suffering), and like dukkha it has a wide range of meanings. These include pleasure, ease, bliss, wellbeing, and happiness. In general, sukha can cover both physical pleasure and mental pleasure, although there are cases, such as in the third jhāna, where the mind is equanimous while sensing pleasure with the body. In cases like this, sukha is reserved for the physical pleasure, whereas mental pleasure is allotted a separate word: joy (somanassa).

In the standard similes for the jhānas, pleasure is represented by water: the water being kneaded into the ball of bath powder in the simile for the first jhāna, the water of the cool spring filling the lake in the simile for the second, and the cool water permeating the submerged lotuses in the simile for the third. Only in the fourth jhāna, where pleasure is totally replaced by equanimity, does water disappear from the simile.

Because pleasure, like rapture, can be either physical or mental or both—and because there is such a thing as “pleasure more not-of-the-flesh than that not of the flesh,” the pleasure felt by the arahant reflecting on the release of his/her mind—the observations made above concerning how the steps in the other tetrads of breath meditation can be used to induce rapture apply to pleasure as well: physically, steps 3 and 4; mentally, step 10; and for the arahant, steps 12–16.

Step 7 builds naturally on steps 5 and 6 because only when you have gained experience in inducing states of rapture and pleasure, and in observing the role of perception in conjunction with these states, can you see clearly the way their presence and absence can fabricate the state of your mind. This will enable you, in step 8, to calm the impact of these feelings and perceptions as seems appropriate. In other words, after inducing pleasure and rapture in the first two jhānas, you abandon the rapture in the second, and the mental pleasure in the third, leading ultimately to the sense of non-affliction that comes with the equanimity of the fourth jhāna, which MN 13 describes as the highest allure of feelings. This equanimity then forms the basis for the formless attainments (MN 140).

The calming of mental fabrication, as the mind goes through the jhānas, echoes MN 118’s description of the relationship between rapture and calm as factors for awakening: Unless the mind is already too energized, you have to make sure that it is energized before calming it. Otherwise it will grow sluggish and constricted.

There is an apparent contradiction in how some of the discourses describe the calming of feeling as you go through the third jhāna to the fourth. On the one hand, as we just noted, the third jhāna is marked by a state of physical pleasure and mental equanimity; the fourth jhāna is described as purity of equanimity, with neither pleasure nor pain. On the other hand, AN 9:34 describes the act of attending to perceptions of equanimity as an affliction experienced in the third jhāna that is abandoned in the fourth.

The question is, if perceptions of equanimity are a disturbance in the fourth jhāna, why is the fourth jhāna described as a state of equanimity? This apparent contradiction can be resolved, however, by noting that the disturbance is not the equanimity itself, or even the mental labels about equanimity, but the act of attending to those labels. The equanimity present in the third jhāna is something that distinguishes it from the second jhāna, which is why it is an object of note on that level. In the fourth jhāna, however, equanimity is no longer an object of note, so there is no interest in attending to perceptions about it.

This, of course, connects directly to the role of perception as a mental fabrication in steps 7 and 8. Several discourses provide more detailed information on the role of perception in fabricating calm for the mind.

To begin with, AN 3:102 provides a general framework for understanding which perceptions need to be calmed in order to bring the mind to concentration, and then from lower levels of concentration to higher ones:

In other words, before you can bring the mind to concentration, you have to cleanse it of two sorts of perceptions: those related to sensuality, ill will, and harm on the one hand, and those related to your relationships with human society on the other. Then, once the mind has attained a lower stage of concentration, you have to further adjust your perceptions so that your concentration can grow more steady and unified, providing a more refined sense of wellbeing.

Other discourses focus more on specific steps within this framework. MN 78, for instance, focuses on how the role of perception in right resolve leads from the grosser mind states associated with sensuality to the more refined pleasure of the first jhāna.

In other words, you use perceptions that induce desire for skillful states to undercut unskillful perceptions. One way of undercutting the perceptions leading to wrong resolve is to cultivate perceptions that highlight the drawbacks of sensuality. MN 54 provides a useful list of similes to help generate perceptions of this sort:

However, MN 78 does not stop with the role of perception in supporting skillful resolves. It also shows how perception—in this case, the perception of whatever theme leads the mind to the second jhāna—can be used in moving beyond even the subtle disturbance of thinking associated with right resolve.

This is one of the ways in which calming the mental fabrication caused by perception stops even the activity of right resolve, leading to a steadier state of concentration.

As for the question of how to overcome perceptions related to human society when trying to attain concentration, MN 121 recommends first focusing on the perception of “wilderness” and observing how it is empty of the disturbances that come with perceptions of “village” or “human being.” (This perception is easiest, of course, if you actually go into the wilderness, but can also be developed in areas that you don’t normally think of as wilderness, for even large cities have their wilderness aspect as well.) Once you have taken pleasure, found satisfaction, settled, and indulged in the stillness that comes with the perception of wilderness, you notice if any disturbance remains. You see that there is, caused by the perception of “wilderness” itself. After all, in the wilderness there are dangers (AN 5:77). So, to abandon that disturbance, you direct the mind to a more refined perception that can act as a basis of concentration. When you have taken pleasure, found satisfaction, settled, and indulged in that perception, you observe it to see first how it is empty of the disturbances that were dependent on the perceptions it has now abandoned, and then to see if there are still any disturbances present in your state of concentration.

In this way, the discourse describes the progression through the stages of concentration as a step-by-step process of increasing emptiness from disturbance. With each level, you note that you have abandoned some of the disturbances present on lower levels of concentration, but that there is still a modicum of disturbance coming from the perception that keeps you connected to the dimension forming the theme of that level of concentration. Dropping that perception, you attend to a more refined perception, and so on up the levels of concentration until you can drop all perceptions and attain total release.

Although the discourse uses the earth property, rather than the breath, as the initial theme of concentration, its recommendations for using earth as a theme of meditation can be applied to the breath by extrapolation. And its discussion of the formless attainments would apply directly to these stages when approached through breath meditation.

What the Buddha is clearly recommending here is a direct observation of how perception fabricates the level of stress in the mind, and how it can be used to calm that stress. Instead of simply replacing one perception with another, you examine how the more refined perception actually helps to empty the mind of disturbance. This approach leads to a greater insight into the process of fabrication. At the same time, it gives practice in applying the four noble truths to the processes of concentration. It looks for the stress—here called “disturbance” (daratha)—present in each level, then it looks for the cause of stress present within the factors of concentration itself, after which it looks for ways to alleviate the stress caused by the mind’s own activities.

By viewing the state of concentration as a fabrication in this way, you avoid the sort of attachment that could come from viewing the dimensions reached in concentration as metaphysical principles. For instance, when arriving at the dimension of the infinitude of consciousness—which AN 10:29 identifies as the highest non-dual totality—you don’t perceive it as a true self or a non-dual ground of being underlying the self and the world. Instead, you look for the stress caused by fabrication present in the experience of that dimension so that you can drop the perception causing that stress. As MN 121 shows, when you follow this process to ever-higher levels of refinement, you ultimately arrive at something greater than any metaphysical principle: total release from all suffering and stress.

Step 9 is an exercise in sensitizing yourself to the state of your mind as you try—successfully or not—to focus it on the breath. The ability to observe the mind in this way is helpful in three ways. As you start out, it enables you to figure out what needs to be changed to bring the mind into right concentration. Once the mind has reached a level of right concentration, it helps you to figure out how to stay settled there. And ultimately—as indicated by the passage from MN 111 cited in Chapter Six—when concentration has been mastered, it allows you to observe the fabrications at work in right concentration so that you can find the escape from them.

AN 5:28 provides a useful analogy for this step:

When you can step back from the mind in concentration—without destroying the concentration—you can observe what it is already doing well and what it needs to do to make further progress.

The remaining three steps in this tetrad are exercises in consciously making the state of your mind more skillful in response to what you have observed in step 9. Step 10 is concerned primarily with motivating and energizing the mind; step 11 with making it more solid and unified. As we noted in the preceding chapter, “release” in step 12 can cover anything from temporary release from unskillful states, through the gradations of release experienced when going from a lower to a higher stage of concentration, all the way to total release from suffering and stress.

In some cases, steps 10–12 overlap. For instance, when you gladden the mind by breathing in a way that fosters rapture and pleasure (steps 5 and 6), that also has the effect of steadying the mind while at the same time releasing it from sensuality and other unskillful qualities. When you use a subsidiary theme in line with the instructions in SN 47:10 to bring the mind to a better mood, that can have a similar three-way effect. In other cases, steps 10 and 11 balance each other out: Step 10 can pertain to instances where you want to give the mind more energy; step 11, to those where you want to calm the energy down.

There are two major strategies for training the mind in these steps. The first is to stay focused on the breath, using the other tetrads or other techniques related to the four frames of reference to accomplish the aim of each training. The other strategy is to follow the advice of SN 47:10 in looking for themes outside of the four frames to provide subsidiary help.

In terms of the first strategy, we have already noted that it’s possible to use steps 5 and 6 in accomplishing steps 10–12. Step 8, calming feeling and perception, can also help with the same steps. Step 3, being sensitive to the entire body, can in some cases help steady the mind in step 11 by giving it a broad grounding. Some people, however, find the larger frame of awareness too distracting when first focusing on the breath, in which case it’s better, for the time being, to keep the range of awareness more restricted.

The strategies for taking the mind through the various levels of jhāna can also help accomplish the steps in this tetrad. For example, we have already noted the passages where—once you have succeeded in remaining focused on the body (breath) in and of itself—you are directed to stay with the body but not think thoughts concerned with the body (MN 125). This gladdens, steadies, and releases the mind by taking it from the first to the second jhāna. Similarly, if you have been using a subsidiary theme to steady the mind, the act of bringing the mind back to the breath or to any of the other frames of reference helps release it from the need to keep directing attention toward that theme. This can also bring you to the second jhāna.

The same principle applies to the act of taking the mind through the various levels of jhāna and the formless attainments—gladdening it in the first three jhānas; and calming, steadying, and releasing it from increasingly subtle levels of affliction as you go through the entire sequence.

The steps of observing and adjusting the mind apply not only to the act of moving the mind from one level of jhāna to another, but also to the act of supervising it while it stays in a particular level. We have already noted, in the passage from AN 9:36, how this sort of supervising can lead the meditator all the way to release. The same act of supervision, however, can be used simply to ensure that unskillful mental states such as pride and conceit don’t accrete around your attainments.

This would count as a strategy for steadying and releasing the mind.

These are a few of the ways in which the four frames of reference can be used to accomplish the trainings in this tetrad.

As for the subsidiary themes that can be helpful in this way, four main groups stand out.

First are the five themes that MN 62 lists as preparatory exercises for breath meditation. Two of these—the contemplations of inconstancy and not-self—will be treated under the fourth tetrad. Here we will simply note MN 137’s statement that the perception of inconstancy can lead the mind either to joy or to equanimity. When you’re faced with unpleasant experiences, the perception of inconstancy can make them more bearable; when you’re faced with pleasant experiences, it can help loosen your tendency to become a slave to them. These are two ways in which this perception can gladden the mind. When the same perception leads to equanimity in either case, that would be an example of using it to steady the mind.

As for the remaining three preparatory exercises listed in MN 62, these are: meditation in tune with the five physical properties, meditation on the unattractiveness of the body, and the development of the four brahmavihāras.

Meditation in tune with the physical properties is an exercise in developing patience, tolerance, and equanimity in the face of painful and pleasant distractions. In each case, you aspire to make the mind non-reactive to agreeable and disagreeable sensory impressions in the same way that the properties of earth, water, wind, fire, and space don’t react with disgust when coming into contact with disgusting things.

For instance, earth:

This is a useful exercise in steadying and releasing the mind. The fact that it’s listed as a preliminary exercise to the more proactive steps of breath meditation makes an important point about the role of non-reactivity in the practice. Instead of being a self-sufficient practice, non-reactivity functions as a prerequisite for the steady powers of observation that are needed to fabricate changes in body, speech, and mind in an increasingly skillful and effective way.

Meditation on the unattractiveness of the body is a technique for overcoming lust, pride, and other unskillful attitudes related to the body. It is so basic to the practice that the tradition has developed of teaching it to every new candidate for ordination. Because this theme is useful primarily for inducing dispassion, we will discuss it under the fourth tetrad. Here it’s enough to note that this, too, is a practice for steadying and releasing the mind.

The brahmavihāras are exercises in developing attitudes of good will, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity for all beings without limit. A standard description of these exercises is this:

These exercises can both gladden and steady the mind. The reference to the resulting state of mind as an “awareness-release” calls attention to the fact that they fall under step 12 as well. As a set, they free the mind, at least temporarily, from passion (AN 2:30). Each attitude can also be used to release the mind from specific unskillful states. Good will provides an escape from ill will; compassion from harmfulness; and empathetic joy from resentment. MN 62 states that equanimity frees the mind from passion; AN 6:13, that it frees the mind from irritation.

However, even though the brahmavihāras are often described as awareness-releases, they are never described as discernment-releases. This means that, on their own, they cannot release the mind from ignorance (AN 2:30); they are not a sufficient practice for bringing about total release—a point dramatically made in MN 97. There Ven. Sāriputta teaches the brahmavihāras to a dying brahman, Dhanañjānin, who upon death is reborn in a brahmā world. Later, when Ven. Sāriputta goes to see the Buddha, the latter chastises him for leading Dhanañjānin to rebirth in an “inferior” brahmā world and not further, to the noble attainments.

A similar point is made by discourses describing the way in which brahmavihāra practice can give rise to the jhānas. The fact that these attitudes can induce strong states of concentration is another way in which they can gladden, steady, and release the mind all at once. However, they differ with regard to the level of jhāna they can induce. AN 4:125, when read in conjunction with AN 4:123, implies that the development of immeasurable good will can lead only to the first jhāna, and that the remaining attitudes developed as immeasurable states can lead, respectively, only to the second, third, and fourth jhānas. This apparently applies to these attitudes when developed on their own, for SN 46:54 states that when they are developed in conjunction with the seven factors for awakening “dependent on seclusion, dispassion, and cessation, and resulting in letting go,” then good will can lead as far as the “beautiful,” a visionary meditative state, the third of the eight emancipations (vimokkha—see Appendix Three). The remaining immeasurable states can lead, respectively, to the first three formless attainments, which are also the fourth, fifth, and sixth of the eight emancipations.

However, the same discourse leaves open the possibility that this combination of the brahmavihāras with the seven factors for awakening can lead to a still higher release, which apparently means any of the stages of awakening. So again, the brahmavihāras are not, as is sometimes said, a self-sufficient practice for awakening. On their own, as aids in step 12, they can lead to temporary release but not total release. They need the help of the seven factors of awakening to go further than the jhānas.

The second group of subsidiary themes that help with the trainings in the third tetrad consists of the six recollections: recollection of the Buddha, Dhamma, Saṅgha, virtue, generosity, and the devas. These recollections serve primarily to gladden the mind, although the first three can also release the mind from fear (SN 11:3).

As the Buddha notes with regard to anyone who recollects any of these themes:

The third group of subsidiary themes that help with the trainings in the third tetrad is the set of nine perceptions listed in AN 10:60. Because these perceptions deal more directly with issues in the fourth tetrad and DN 22, we will save their discussion for the next section in this chapter and for Chapter Nine. Here, however, it’s relevant to note that these perceptions are useful primarily for steadying the mind, although MN 137’s statement with regard to the perception of inconstancy can apply to all nine of these perceptions: that they can help gladden the mind as well.

The fourth group of subsidiary themes that help with the trainings in the third tetrad consists of the various exercises surrounding mindfulness of death. These are obviously aimed at steadying the mind by chastening it, and at releasing it from laziness and heedlessness, from attachment to the body, and from the petty concerns of daily life. However, they can also be used to gladden the mind by inspiring a sense of appreciation for every opportunity to practice, and for whatever progress you have already made.

By way of encouragement, the Buddha notes that when mindfulness of death is developed in this way, it gains a footing in the deathless, has the deathless as its final end. This thought, too, gladdens the mind.

When we reflect on these four groups of subsidiary themes, three points stand out. The first is that, in every case, their practice is a form of mindfulness. Some of them are explicitly termed mindfulness or—its near equivalent—recollection (anussati). Even the practice of immeasurable good will, although its name doesn’t include the word “mindfulness,” is termed a form of mindfulness in Sn 1:8. This is because the practice of this immeasurable attitude requires constantly keeping it in mind. The same observation applies to the remaining brahmavihāras as well.

The second point is that each subsidiary theme can fulfill more than one training. What’s especially striking in this connection is the way in which a theme that might seem dismaying—such as mindfulness of death or the perception of inconstancy—can also be gladdening, depending on how you perceive the relationship of the theme to the particular problem you’re facing. This shows the power of perception as a mental fabrication: It can take a potentially negative topic and turn it into a cause for joy.

The third point is that, as a group, these subsidiary themes bear in mind the three parts of right view: the right framework for viewing experience, an understanding of the motivation for adopting the framework, and knowledge of what should be done in light of the framework. The brahmavihāras, for instance, fall under right resolve, which falls within the fourth truth within the framework of the four noble truths. As they are developed—the duty with regard to right resolve—they lead directly to right concentration. The six recollections and mindfulness of death provide motivation for sticking with the path. In this way they perform the duty of right mindfulness in keeping these three aspects of right view in mind. This is why, even though these exercises are subsidiary to breath meditation, they deserve to be classified under the third establishing of mindfulness for their role in developing states of mind that inspire and strengthen right effort, and lead to right concentration.

When MN 118 relates the four tetrads to the four establishings of mindfulness, it connects this fourth tetrad to the abandoning of greed and distress. As we noted in the preceding chapter, this activity can apply to the act of abandoning unskillful mind states that threaten to distract you from the theme of your concentration practice, and to help develop dispassion for concentration itself when all other attachments have been abandoned.

However, MN 62 and AN 10:60 suggest that, even before that point, the contemplations associated with step 13 can help prevent misunderstandings that may grow up around the very first stages in the practice of concentration. This suggestion derives from the fact that MN 62 lists the development of the perceptions of inconstancy and not-self among the exercises to be done before you start breath meditation. It doesn’t give any recommendations for how to develop the perception of inconstancy, but AN 10:60 does:

MN 62 does, however, note what this perception is meant to accomplish: It helps to uproot the conceit, “I am.” Because the total uprooting of this conceit doesn’t occur until the attainment of arahantship, the question arises: Why is this contemplation presented as a preliminary exercise? The answer seems to be that it helps to serve as advance warning against perceiving the states of concentration induced by breath meditation as ends in and of themselves. After all, they are composed of aggregates, and aggregates are conditioned phenomena. At the same time, in light of MN 113, the perception of inconstancy with regard to the aggregates serves as warning against developing pride around those states of concentration as well.

A similar principle seems to be at work in MN 62’s recommendation of how to develop the perception of not-self prior to breath meditation. Its focus is on applying this perception to form: the body as felt from within. Here the discourse does give detailed instructions on how to follow this exercise. First it defines each of the five properties—earth, water, wind, fire, and space—in the same terms used in MN 140. Then, after each property, it states:

Because, as we have seen, step 3 in breath meditation involves sensitizing the mind to the effect of the breath on these properties, this exercise would seem to warn against trying to use the breath energy to create a state of perfect physical health. It reminds you that the body is best regarded not as an end in itself but as a tool in the search for a higher happiness. This point, as we will see below, is reinforced by the perceptions of the body’s unattractiveness and its drawbacks in leaving you open to the miseries of a wide variety of diseases.

Of course, these same contemplations of inconstancy and not-self can be used to develop dispassion for any topics that may threaten to distract you from the theme of the breath or from any of the establishings of mindfulness built around the breath. This is one of the ways in which, even in the early stages of meditation, the contemplation of inconstancy in step 13 leads naturally to the contemplation of dispassion in step 14.

AN 10:60, in its preface to breath meditation, lists a series of other perceptions that can perform the same function. We have already discussed the first—the perception of inconstancy—so here we will list just the remaining ones, beginning with the perception of not-self, which this discourse applies to the six sense media.

The perceptions of inconstancy and not-self act as preliminaries to the subsequent perceptions in the list, for they help you view all ideas of self or world simply as processes of fabrication. Viewing them in this light makes it easier to abandon any attachment to them. In particular, the eighth perception in this list points to the connection between perceptions of self and perceptions of world in the process of becoming. As AN 10:27 and 10:28 point out, to be a being requires nutriment; your sense of the world depends on where you look for and find nutriment. If you can see both your sense of self and your sense of the world as processes that are inherently stressful, then the act of abandoning seems less like a sacrifice of necessary nourishment, and more like the strategy for true happiness that it actually is.

As for the third and fourth perceptions—of the unattractiveness and drawbacks of the body—they also amplify the perceptions of inconstancy and not-self, providing vivid examples of the stress that comes with looking for happiness in things that are unreliable and lie beyond your control. However, these perceptions perform other functions as well. As we have already noted, they help to overcome lust. Sn 1:11 points out that they help overcome pride based on your appearance or race; AN 4:184, that they help overcome fear of death. And as we will see in Chapter Nine, they also provide a foundation for restraint of the senses.

The practice of developing these perceptions prior to the steps of breath meditation is an example of developing insight prior to tranquility. This is one of the ways in which insight helps lead to jhāna (AN 10:71). Learning to perceive things as processes of fabrication prior to taking on the sixteen steps makes it easier to master the steps concerning bodily and mental fabrication.

To perceive the processes of fabrication as being fueled by passion also makes it easier to understand how step 15 follows naturally on step 14. With the cultivation of dispassion, the processes are deprived of their fuel, so they simply disband and cease.

Step 16, focusing on relinquishment, is an essential step in the successful abandoning of any issue that threatens to distract the mind, from the beginning stages on up. You not only have to allow the distraction to cease; you also have to let go of any pride over or attachment to your success in allowing that cessation. This frees you to watch for any unskillful states that might arise immediately after the cessation of a particular distraction. The same principle also applies in the final stages of the practice, when you have to abandon passion both for the attainment of the deathless (AN 9:36) and for the path that brought you there.

In this way, the steps of this tetrad roughly parallel the duties with regard to the four noble truths. Step 13 deals primarily with comprehending stress so as to give rise to dispassion; step 14 develops dispassion to abandon the cause of stress; step 15 realizes cessation; and step 16 deals with the ultimate duty with regard to the path: When fully developed, it is to be relinquished.