Mahasi's Discourses in Yangon, Myanmar

Practical Vipassana Meditation Exercises

A discourse given by the Venerable Mahasi Sayadaw in Yangon, Myanmar, circa 1950

Burmese-to-English translation: U Nyi Nyi (Myanmar); English-to-Chinese translation: Zeng Yinhu (Taiwan)

Translator’s note: This talk was delivered by the Venerable Mahasi Sayadaw to his ordained disciples at the Sasana Yeiktha Meditation Centre in Yangon, Myanmar, and translated from Burmese into English by U Nyi Nyi.

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Vipassana (insight) meditation practice involves the meditator striving to clearly understand the nature of the mental and physical phenomena that arise within oneself. Physical phenomena are the objects we can observe most clearly within our own bodies. The entire body we can clearly perceive is made up of a mass of material characteristics (rūpa). Mental or psychological phenomena are the activities of consciousness (nāma). Whenever we see, hear, smell, taste, touch, or think, we can clearly become aware of these nāma and rūpa as they arise. We observe them and mentally note each experience as it happens: "seeing, seeing," "hearing, hearing," "smelling, smelling," "tasting, tasting," "touching, touching," "thinking, thinking."

Every act of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, and thinking needs to be noted. But when you first start practicing, it’s impossible to note everything that happens. So we begin by focusing on the events that are most obvious and easiest to catch. With every breath, the abdomen rises and falls. This movement is always easy to notice. We call this material characteristic the wind element — the element of motion. Start by noting this movement: simply hold your attention on the abdomen. You’ll notice that the abdomen rises as you inhale, and falls as you exhale. Mentally note the rising as "rising," and the falling as "falling." If you can’t feel the movement clearly just by noting it mentally, rest your palm on your abdomen.

Don’t change your breathing at all — don’t deliberately slow it, speed it up, or breathe forcefully. If you alter your breath, you’ll only tire yourself out. Breathe normally and steadily, and keep noting the abdomen’s rising and falling. This is mental noting, not saying the words out loud.

In Vipassana practice, the labels we use don’t matter. What truly counts is awareness. When noting the abdomen’s rise, follow the movement from start to finish, as if you’re watching it with your eyes. The same goes for the fall. Note the rising movement so your consciousness moves in perfect sync with the motion itself. This alignment of movement and awareness is like a stone landing exactly at the center of a target. The same applies to the falling.

As you note the abdominal movement, your mind may wander off. This too needs to be noted: mentally acknowledge it as "wandering, wandering." Once you’ve noted it once or twice, the mind will stop wandering, and you can return to noting the abdomen’s rise and fall. If the mind lands on a particular thought or image, note it as "arriving, arriving," then return to the abdomen’s rising and falling. If you imagine running into someone, note it as "meeting, meeting," then return to the abdomen’s rise and fall. If you imagine having a conversation with them, note it as "talking, talking."

In short, any thought or reflection that arises needs to be noted. If you’re fantasizing, note it as "fantasizing." If you’re thinking, note it as "thinking." If you’re planning, note it as "planning." If you’re perceiving or recognizing something, note it as "perceiving" or "recognizing." If you’re reflecting, note it as "reflecting." If you feel happy, note it as "happy." If you feel bored, note it as "bored." If you feel glad, note it as "glad." If you feel dejected, note it as "dejected." Noting all these mental activities is called cittānupassanā (contemplation of mind).

Because we don’t note these mental activities, we come to believe there is a "person" or a "fixed self" tied to them. We automatically assume it is "I" who is fantasizing, thinking, planning, or perceiving. We believe this "person" — this continuous, unchanging subject — has existed from childhood into adulthood. In reality, no such "person" exists at all. There is only this unbroken flow of mental activities, one following the next. This is why we must note these mental activities and see them for what they truly are. This is also why, whenever a mental activity arises, we need to note each movement of the mind. When we note it this way, it gradually fades away. Then we return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen.

When you’ve been sitting in meditation for some time, sensations of stiffness and heat will arise in the body. These need to be noted carefully too. Sensations of pain and fatigue are no different. All these sensations are unpleasant feelings, and noting them is what we call vedanānupassanā (contemplation of feeling). If you fail to note these sensations, you’ll start to think: "I am stiff, I feel hot, I am in pain. I was fine just a moment ago, and now I’m uncomfortable because of these unpleasant feelings." Seeing these sensations as belonging to a "self" is a mistake. In truth, there is no "I" inside them at all — only a continuous stream of unpleasant sensations, each new one replacing the last. It is like a string of successive electrical pulses lighting a light bulb: each time the body experiences an unpleasant contact, unpleasant sensations arise one after another.

These sensations need to be noted carefully and attentively, whether they are stiffness, heat, or pain. When you first start meditating, these sensations may grow stronger and make you want to shift your posture. Note that desire, then return to noting the stiffness, heat, and other sensations.

There is a saying: "Patience leads to Nibbāna." It fits the effort of meditation perfectly. Meditation requires patience: if you can’t bear the stiffness or heat that arises and shift posture too often, you won’t be able to develop samādhi (concentration). If samādhi doesn’t develop, insight can’t arise, and the Path and Fruition (leading to Nibbāna) cannot be attained. This is why patience is so essential in meditation. You must be especially patient with unpleasant bodily sensations like stiffness, heat, pain, and other hard-to-bear feelings. Don’t immediately give up and change posture as soon as these sensations appear. Keep going patiently, simply noting "stiff, stiff" or "hot, hot." If you continue noting with patience, these moderate sensations will fade away. As your meditation deepens and grows stronger, even intense sensations will gradually disappear. Then return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen.

If you’ve noted these sensations for a long time and they still don’t fade, or if they become truly unbearable, then of course you should shift your posture. Start by noting "wanting to change, wanting to change." If you raise an arm, note: "raising, raising." If it moves, note: "moving, moving." Make the posture shift slowly and gently, noting: "raising, raising," "moving, moving," and "touching, touching."

If your body sways, note "swaying, swaying." If you lift a foot, note "lifting, lifting." If it moves, note "moving, moving." If your back or shoulders slump, note "slumping, slumping." If you’re sitting still with no movement, return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen. There must be no gaps between these moments of awareness. The moment of awareness that came before and the one that comes after, the preceding state of samādhi and the next, the preceding flash of insight and the next — all must flow into one another. Only then will the meditator’s wisdom continue to deepen until it reaches full maturity. Only when you have this unbroken momentum can you attain the Path and Fruition.

The meditation process is like rubbing two sticks together to make fire: you have to keep rubbing them without stopping to build up enough heat to spark a flame. In the same way, awareness in Vipassana practice must be continuous and unbroken, with no gap between noting one phenomenon and the next. For example, if an itching sensation arises and you want to scratch it because it’s unbearable, both the "itch" and the "urge to scratch" need to be noted. Don’t scratch immediately to relieve the sensation. If you keep noting it patiently, the itch will usually fade. Then return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen.

If the itch doesn’t fade, of course you can scratch to relieve it. But first, you have to note the urge to scratch. Every part of the process of relieving the sensation needs to be noted — particularly the movements of touching, pulling, pushing, and scratching — before you return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen.

Every time you shift posture, start by noticing the intention to move, and watch every related movement closely: rising from a seated position, lifting your arm, extending it. As you observe these movements, you’re also shifting what you’re attending to. Notice when your body leans forward. When you stand, your body lightens and lifts into standing; keep your focus here, and carefully note “rising, rising”.

A practitioner moves as a frail, sick person does. Healthy people stand easily, quickly, even abruptly. A frail or ill person does not: they rise slowly, with care. The same is true for someone with back pain: they lift themselves cautiously to avoid straining their back and triggering pain. A practitioner does the same, shifting postures slowly and deliberately. Only then will mindfulness, concentration, and insight reach their full, sublime potential. Start with gentle, unhurried movements. When rising, move as a sick person would: stand carefully, noting “rising, rising”.

This is not all: though the eyes can see, a practitioner does not fixate on what they see. The same goes for what the ears hear. In meditation, the only thing a practitioner attends to is “awareness” itself. What you see or hear is not your object of focus. No matter how novel or striking something you see or hear may be, pull your attention away from it, as if you had neither seen nor heard it, and only note your present experience carefully.

Whenever the body moves, a practitioner proceeds slowly, as if they were unwell: moving arms and legs with care, bending or straightening, tilting or lifting the head with the same deliberateness. Every movement is done mindfully. When rising from a seated position, move slowly, noting “rising, rising”. When standing upright, note “standing, standing”. When looking ahead, note “looking, looking”.

When walking, note each step, whether it is the right or left foot moving forward. Mindfully observe the full sequence of movement, from lifting the foot to setting it down, noting every step, right or left. This is how you note when walking quickly. If you are walking quickly over a long distance, this level of noting is sufficient. When walking slowly, or on an incline or decline, note three movements for each step: the foot lifting, pushing forward, and landing. Start by noting the lifting and placing of the foot, watching the foot lift mindfully. Likewise, when the foot lands, note the “heavy” settling of the foot with care.

For every step you take, note “lifting” and “placing”. After roughly two days, this noting will grow easier. Then continue noting the three movements we mentioned: “lifting, pushing forward, placing”. At first, noting just one or two movements is enough: when walking quickly, note “right step, left step”; when walking slowly, note “lifting, placing”. If, while walking this way, the intention to sit arises, note “intending to sit, intending to sit”.

When you actually sit, focus on the “heavy” settling of your body. As you settle into the seat, note any adjustments you make to your arms and legs. When movement stops and the body is still, note the rise and fall of your abdomen. While noting, if stiffness arises in your calves or a burning sensation in any part of your body, keep noting those sensations. Then return to “rising, falling”.

If the intention to lie down arises while you are noting, note it. As you recline, track every movement of your arms and legs: arms lifting and shifting, elbows resting on the floor, your body shifting, legs extending, the slow tilt of your body as you prepare to lie down—every movement must be noted.

Noting in this way as you recline is vital: the act of lying down itself can yield clear, direct insight—the right knowledge of the path and its fruits. When your concentration (samādhi) and insight are strong, this clear knowing can arise at any moment, even in the split second between bending your arm and straightening it. This is how Venerable Ānanda attained arhatship.

On the night before the First Buddhist Council, Venerable Ānanda strove with his utmost effort all night to attain arhatship. He spent the full night practicing mindfulness of the body (kāyānupassanā) as part of insight meditation (vipassanā), noting each step of his walking: right foot, left foot, lifting, pushing forward, placing; noting with full awareness both the mental intention to practice walking meditation and the associated bodily movements. Even after practicing until nearly dawn, he had still not attained arhatship. Realizing he had practiced walking meditation for too long, and that he needed to balance his concentration and energy with lying-down meditation, he went to his quarters. He sat on his bed, then lay down. As he did, noting “lying down, lying down”, he attained arhatship in an instant.

Before lying down, Venerable Ānanda was a stream-enterer (sotāpanna, the first stage of enlightenment on the path to Nirvāṇa—the first fruit). From stream-entry, he continued meditating, attaining the stage of once-returner (sakadāgāmi, one who will return to the sense world only one more time, the second path fruit), then non-returner (anāgāmi, one who will never again return to the sense world, the third path fruit), and finally arhatship (the state of a noble one, the ultimate, final fruit of the path). He progressed through these three successive higher stages in a very short time. Take Venerable Ānanda’s attainment of arhatship as a model: path fruit can arise at any moment, no long stretch of practice is required.

This is why a practitioner must hold mindfulness with right knowledge at all times. Don’t think “This small oversight doesn’t matter” and let your mindfulness slacken. Every movement related to lying down and adjusting the legs and arms must be noted carefully, without any laxity. When there is no movement and the body is still, return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen.

Even when it’s very late and time for bed, a practitioner does not abandon their mindfulness to go to sleep. A truly diligent, earnest practitioner practices mindfulness as if they are giving up sleep entirely, continuing their meditation practice until they fall asleep. If the subtle, refined state of meditation is dominant, they will not fall asleep. If drowsiness takes over, they will. When you feel sleepy, note it: “sleepy, sleepy”. If your eyelids droop, note “drooping”; if they feel heavy, note “heavy”; if your eyes sting, note “stinging”. Noting in this way, drowsiness may fade, and your eyes will grow “bright” again.

Note “bright, bright” in this way, then return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen. If drowsiness truly overwhelms you, you will fall asleep no matter how steadfastly you continue meditating. Falling asleep is not hard; in fact, it’s very easy. If you practice lying-down meditation, you will gradually grow drowsy and eventually fall asleep, so beginning meditators should not do too much lying-down practice. They should focus instead on walking meditation and seated meditation for the body. But when it’s very late and time for bed, they can practice lying-down meditation, noting the rising and falling of the abdomen, and will fall asleep naturally.

For a practitioner, sleep is rest time, but a truly rigorous practitioner limits their sleep to roughly four hours. This is the “middle watch” of the night the Buddha permitted for sleep. Four hours is more than enough. If a beginning meditator feels four hours is not enough for their health, they may extend it to five or six hours. Six hours is clearly sufficient for good health.

When a practitioner wakes, they must immediately restore their mindfulness. A practitioner truly committed to attaining the path, its fruits, and right knowledge only rests from their meditative effort when they are asleep. At all other times, when practicing walking meditation, they continue noting without pause. So the moment they wake, they note their awakened state of mind: “awake, awake”. If they are not yet aware of this state, they begin noting the rise and fall of the abdomen.

If they wish to get out of bed, they note: “wanting to rise, wanting to rise”. As they adjust their legs and arms, they keep noting every movement. When they lift their head, note “lifting, lifting”. When they sit up, note “sitting, sitting”. As they adjust their legs and arms, any movement at all must be noted. If there are no further adjustments and they are sitting quietly, return to noting the rise and fall of the abdomen.

When washing the face and bathing, these movements must also be noted. Since these activities involve quick movements, note them as fully as you can. Next, activities like dressing, making the bed, opening and closing doors must all be noted as closely and thoroughly as possible.

When a practitioner sits down to eat and looks at the table, they note “looking, looking”. When they reach toward the food, touch it, gather and shape it into a bite, bring it to their mouth, lower their head to put the bite in their mouth, lower their arm then raise it again—all these movements must be noted appropriately. (This description of noting is based on Burmese eating customs; those who use knives, forks, spoons, or chopsticks should note these movements in the way that fits their custom.)

When chewing food, note: “chewing, chewing”. When you become aware of the food’s flavor, note: “knowing, knowing”. When you taste the food and swallow it, when the food passes through your throat, note all of these events. This is how a practitioner notes as they take bite after bite of food. When eating soup, all related movements—reaching out the arm, lifting the spoon, scooping the broth, and so on—must all be noted. Noting while eating is very difficult, as there are many things to observe and attend to. A beginning practitioner may miss several things they should note, but they must resolve to note everything. If they are negligent and miss some things, that’s unavoidable; but when their meditative concentration is strong, they will be able to note all of these events closely.

I have mentioned many, many things for a practitioner to note, but to summarize, there are only a few key things to attend to: when walking quickly, note “right step, left step”; when walking slowly, note “lifting, placing”. When sitting in stillness, simply note the rise and fall of the abdomen. Do the same when lying down: note the “rise and fall of the abdomen”. While noting, if the mind wanders, note the arising mental activity, then return to the abdominal rise and fall. When feelings of stiffness, pain, or itch arise, note them too, then return to the abdominal rise and fall. When you bend or stretch your legs, tilt or raise your head, sway or straighten your body, note these movements as they arise, then return to the abdominal rise and fall.

As a practitioner continues noting in this way, they will be able to attend to more and more of these events. At first, because the mind wanders so much, a practitioner may miss many things, but they should not be discouraged. Every beginning meditator faces the same difficulties. But the more they practice, the more they will notice every instance of mental wandering, until finally the mind no longer wanders at all. The mind then locks onto its object of attention, and the act of noting occurs almost simultaneously with the object itself, such as the rise and fall of the abdomen. (In other words, the abdomen’s rising and the act of noting that rising happen at the same time, as does the abdomen’s falling and the act of noting that fall.)

The physical object being noted and the mental act of mindfulness arise together. In this moment, there is no person, no inherent self: there is only the physical object being noted and the mental act of mindfulness, arising together. In time, the practitioner will experience these truths directly and personally for themselves. While noting the rise and fall of the abdomen, they will see that the abdomen’s rising is a physical phenomenon, while the act of mindfully noting it is a mental phenomenon; the same is true of the abdomen’s falling. Thus the practitioner will clearly and directly know that these physical and mental phenomena arise simultaneously.

In this way, with every act of noting, the practitioner will know clearly for themselves that the object of mindfulness is merely a characteristic of material form, while the act of noting it is a characteristic of mind. This discerning knowledge is called “the wisdom of distinguishing name and form” (nāmarūpa-pariccheda-ñāṇa), and it is the beginning of insight (vipassanā, or inner wisdom). It is essential to develop this discerning knowledge correctly. As the practitioner continues their practice, they will next gain the knowledge of distinguishing cause and effect, called “the wisdom of comprehending dependent origination” (paccaya-pariggaha-ñāṇa).

As the practitioner continues noting, they will see for themselves that everything that arises passes away very quickly. Ordinary people believe material and mental phenomena last a lifetime, from youth to old age. In reality, this is not so. There are no permanent phenomena. All phenomena arise and pass away rapidly; they do not even last for the blink of an eye. As the practitioner continues noting, they will know this for themselves. They will be fully convinced that all phenomena are impermanent. This conviction is called “the knowledge of the contemplation of impermanence” (aniccānupassanā-ñāṇa).

This knowledge is followed by “the knowledge of the contemplation of suffering” (dukkhānupassanā-ñāṇa), which realizes that all these impermanent phenomena are suffering. A practitioner will also encounter various physical discomforts, which are the accumulation of suffering. This too is “the knowledge of the contemplation of suffering”. Next, the practitioner will become fully convinced that all physical and mental phenomena arise according to their own nature, not in line with anyone’s will, and not subject to anyone’s control. They do not make up a self or an “I”. This realization is called “the knowledge of the contemplation of non-self” (anattānupassanā-ñāṇa).

Continuing their meditation, when the practitioner firmly and directly knows that all phenomena are impermanent, suffering, and non-self, they will attain Nirvāṇa. All past Buddhas, all arhats, and all noble disciples attained Nirvāṇa by following this very path. All meditation practitioners should recognize that they are now on this path of mindfulness, fulfilling their aspiration to attain the wisdom of the path, the wisdom of its fruits, and the Dharma of Nirvāṇa, and carrying forward their fully perfected pāramitā (perfect virtues). They should rejoice in this, and aspire to experience the holy samādhi (the tranquility of mind born of meditative concentration) and the wisdom personally realized by the Buddhas, arhats, and noble disciples—wisdom they have never experienced before.

Before long, they will personally experience the path wisdom, fruit wisdom, and Dharma of Nirvāṇa that the Buddhas, arhats, and noble disciples have realized. In fact, they may experience these truths within one month, or twenty days, or even fifteen days of dedicated meditation practice. Those with special, well-perfected pāramitā may even experience these Dharma truths in as little as seven days.

During this period, the practitioner should rest in the conviction that they will attain these Dharma truths. They will eradicate the view of a self (sakkāya-diṭṭhi, or “I-view”) and doubt in the Dharma, and be freed from the danger of rebirth in the lower realms (hell, the animal realm, and the realm of hungry ghosts). They must continue their meditation practice rooted in this conviction.

May all of you practice meditation well, and swiftly attain the Nirvāṇa personally realized by the Buddhas, arhats, and noble disciples. Sadhu (well said, excellent)! Sadhu! Sadhu!

(Translated on October 11, 1995, at Yuanli Xuan, Taichung)