jhānas (meditative states) and nibbāna (enlightenment)

The path of dhamma (the truth or teachings)

A healthy and legitimate path

This path is likely to lead beings to the end of suffering, making it a legitimate and healthy route for anyone who is sufficiently wise and intelligent. Unlike humans, animals are trapped in their daily suffering and exist in confusion, living under constant threats and driven by instinct. They navigate a world filled with predators, aggression, fear, escapism, hatred, and violence without the ability to change their situation.

Humans possess a unique capacity that animals do not. Firstly, we have the ability to conceive that escaping this suffering might be possible. Secondly, we can genuinely wish to escape it and actively seek a state of being or experience that is free from all forms of suffering.

To achieve this escape, we have specific mental faculties, which are intrinsic to our human nature. These faculties allow us to differentiate between actions or thoughts that will assist us on this spiritual path and those that will keep us entrenched in misery, suffering, aggression, and violence. We are capable of recognizing what is skilful (kusala, meaning skillful or beneficial) and what is unskilful (akusala, meaning unskillful or harmful).

Skilfulness

The Pali word "kusala" (skill) has translated to "skill" in English and "scola" (school) in Latin. This connection illustrates that the word "school" shares a common origin, referring to a place where we develop our skills. Therefore, "kusala" is best understood as "skilfulness." In the commentary "dhamma saṃghani" (the collection of teachings), composed by Buddha Gosa, the term "kusala" indicates the skill of a craftsman while he is working. Hence, the meaning of "kusala" focuses on the idea of skilfulness—not just being "well" or "good," but possessing the intelligence and sharpness of mind necessary for personal growth and improvement. Skilfulness, in this context, leads to less suffering and aids us on our path to happiness. Conversely, "akusala" (unskilful) signifies clumsiness and anything that misguides us from the right way of living.

We find ourselves in a school dedicated to developing our skilfulness. Here, we cultivate habits that promote constructive, helpful, and beneficial behaviours. Simultaneously, we learn to abandon unskilful and harmful behaviours that often lead to suffering and pain.

To think on our own

If we were to ask a Jew, a Moslem, a Hindu, a Mahayana Buddhist, a Theravāda Buddhist (Theravāda means "School of the Elders," referring to the oldest existing school of Buddhism), a Christian, a Communist, a Nazi, a Fascist, or an Atheist: "What are the skilful means for reaching that final goal, this place, this experience that is free of misery and suffering?" we would probably get various answers. These differing perspectives might lead to confusion, as each belief system has its unique approach to understanding life and overcoming pain. It is not necessary to study all the paths taught by various traditions. Instead, it is more useful to think for ourselves and attempt to understand these ideas independently.

On one hand, we can reflect on our current state of distress and stress, which can often feel like a limitation in our lives. For many of us, recognizing this state occurs without much thought; it is instinctive and immediate. For some individuals, their awareness of the world's suffering may have begun in their early years. On the other hand, we can also contemplate and analyze what an ideal state might be—a place free from pain and suffering. In Buddhist terms, this ideal state is closely related to the concept of nibbāna (nirvana), which signifies the ultimate freedom from suffering, desire, and the cycle of birth and death, known as samsara.

Once we have thoughtfully and positively reflected on these two elements and acknowledged their reality, we need to develop the skill to understand what causes suffering, misery, and pain on one hand, and what should help us experience the cessation of suffering, misery, and stress on the other hand.

Confidence and doubt

We actually find ourselves in a four-dimensional world, which extends beyond the three familiar dimensions of length, width, and height to include time as the fourth dimension. This reflection should be mature and should be supported by as many doubts and questions as it is by certainty and confidence. Indeed, it is dangerous to be confident without any sense of doubt, just as it is unproductive to doubt without having any confidence. We should strive to find a balanced path that always includes a small amount of doubt. This slight doubt will encourage us to reflect and engage in self-questioning at any moment, prompting us to consider whether we are about to follow a risky course of action. One must remain alert to the nature of confidence, which can quickly turn into a blind faith in a system that we no longer fully understand or control.

We sometimes say: "the one who has experienced awakening is the one who has dispelled all doubts." Awakening refers to a profound realization or insight into the nature of reality. Paradoxically, removing doubt also involves diminishing one’s awareness of certain thoughts and feelings. Buddha does not say: "the one who has reached the state of awakening has developed complete confidence." Instead, he conveys that "the one who has attained the experience of awakening has let go of skeptical doubt." Skeptical doubt refers to uncertain thoughts that question the truth of spiritual teachings. By letting go of skeptical doubt, one simultaneously casts aside the need for absolute confidence in those teachings.

These two elements—doubt and confidence—can be detrimental when they are present in excessive amounts, but they are beneficial when they remain balanced. It is vital to approach spiritual practice with an open, questioning mind while also recognizing the necessity of trusting one’s insights and experiences.

Our school, the one of reflection, the one of reasoning, is characterized by a constructive form of scepticism, as opposed to a destructive kind. It is a school of reason, centered around what is reasonable. This approach is not confined to Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Mahayana Buddhism, Theravāda Buddhism (the latter two being different traditions within Buddhism), Christianity, Communism, Nazism, Fascism, or Atheism. Instead, it exists within each of us, accessible once we choose to embrace it. This school of thought does not require formal membership, religious leaders, structured hierarchy, unwavering beliefs, or sacred texts. It is simply the personal work we each engage in, at our own level, in our everyday lives. When we think critically and make progress, we come to realize that our reflections and thoughts have been articulated in the past, developed and explored by others before us.

We then discover that Buddha, the monk Gotama, is someone whose teachings have always aligned with this line of thought. All his teachings, in fact, are practical and reasonable discussions about everyday life. From this moment onward, we feel a connection with these teachings and the lessons shared by monks. We find ourselves in harmony with Buddha's teachings, not merely because we accept them, but simply because, through our own reflections, we arrive at similar insights. It’s not just that we agree with these teachings, but rather that we perceive them as agreeing with our own understanding. There is always a balance present between doubt, skepticism, and confidence. This balance is crucial. It’s important to recognize that the individual who has reached perfect awakening, known as anarahanta (one who is fully awakened), is not someone who can be said to have gained complete confidence in Buddha's teachings. He would not assert that he has total certainty about them either. Instead, he has cultivated the ability, through his experiences and reflections, to remain uncertain about anything. However, he is someone who never doubts, which is indeed a paradoxical situation. The state of absolute confidence, complete truth, and total certainty does not reside in the mind of a wise person.

Thus, if we reflect upon it, if we ask ourselves the question "what is this world made of?", we will realize that any discussion or reflection will credibly lead us to become aware that this world is quite confused. We will ascertain that it is very difficult to extract a truth, a substance, or something steady and reliable, on which we could rest. We truly live in a confused world. This confusion can be seen in various areas: the social world, the political world, the economic world, the technological world, the real world, the virtual world, as well as in the realms of religion, spirituality, philosophy, and culture; all these areas remain somewhat chaotic and disordered.

In all fields of activities, there still exists a common element, which is a certain level of stress and constraint. Accompanying this is a deep, often unexpressed, desire for freedom that nearly all beings share in their own unique ways. From this understanding, we can draw a conclusion that is reasonable and thoughtful, one that warrants further exploration through contemplation. This conclusion reflects the idea that one of the major characteristics of our world is its painful nature. This distress is something we can often observe and confirm wherever we choose to reflect or look upon our experiences. We have thus identified an essential element that resonates across multiple aspects of existence.

Now, we can try to think, to reflect upon that which could be a spot, an experience empty of such a constraint. And we can understand that this thing, this spot, this experience is the only possible alternative to all the turpitude and constraints of this world. Exactly in the same way as if there was noise, silence alone is the possible alternative to set ourselves free from the noise.

Pleasure, source of our suffering

For example, when there is a particularly displeasing sound, we would like it to stop, because it is painful. It is possible for us to replace this sound by another one. We can transmute this sound, we can purify it. We can follow a step that will lead us from a particularly unpleasant sound to a blissful and marvelous one. The problem lies in that in any case, we haven't eliminated the sound. We have proceeded from an unpleasant sound to a pleasant one. It is better than nothing; it can give us short-term comfort. However, we have not eliminated the problem of the sound because the sound is still there. Moreover, even if we deal with a particularly pleasant sound, after some time, we will probably be totally fed up with it. Even a particularly melodious sound will finally become unpleasant. What did change? Why is a sound pleasant, nice, and then, the same sound, the same melody, becomes unbearable? It is quite strange! That which has changed, quite simply, is: we have gotten too much of it. We have experienced an overdose of it. This highlights an essential teaching in Buddhism: excessive attachment to any experience, whether pleasant or unpleasant, leads to suffering.

Even pleasure can transform into displeasure; when experienced too frequently, it can become unbearable. Pleasure can also become a source of pain, restriction, and stress. Often, people use pleasure as a temporary fix to escape suffering and hardships. In a way, we feel compelled to chase after pleasures to make this life more bearable. However, this very pursuit of pleasure can lead to our suffering and misery, as we find ourselves trapped in the cycle of wanting more.

Therefore, pleasure is not synonymous with well-being; it is not a solution to suffering. The alternative to pain is not merely experiencing pleasure; instead, it lies in the complete absence of pain. In other words, the opposite of an unpleasant sound is not just a pleasant sound but rather silence itself. Similarly, the antidote to all painful experiences is not necessarily a joyful experience filled with abundance; it is the state of having no experience at all.

This insight is akin to what Buddha discovered, a realization that can also arise from our contemplation. Buddha's teachings emphasize a deeper understanding of suffering and the cessation of it, guiding individuals towards a state known as nibbāna (nirvana), which represents the ultimate freedom from suffering.

In Buddhism, jhānas (meditative absorptions) are profound states of mental focus and tranquility that practitioners can achieve. These states involve deep concentration and are characterized by an incredibly clear state of consciousness where distractions fade away. By engaging in spiritual exercises, humans can attain these elevated states of consciousness, which allow for a deeper understanding of reality and the nature of existence. Through jhānas, one may experience a sense of peace that transcends ordinary life.

States of intense happiness

We can succeed – as humans have done for thousands of years – through spiritual exercises, in experiencing states of grace, which are special moments of clarity where almost nothing is active in the mind. These states of consciousness have the power to remain clear, transparent, and still. Within these moments, we often feel a deep sense of well-being, free from any pain or discomfort. Such experiences are referred to in many historical texts, including those from Sufism, Hinduism, Mahayana (a branch of Buddhism), and other spiritual traditions.

We can envision these states of consciousness, even if we have not personally experienced them. They are frequently discussed within various mystical traditions around the world. Many people speculate – especially those who have had unique or transformative experiences – that it is possible to achieve a degree of inner fullness or completeness, which some describe as a state of intense happiness. This suggests that it is indeed credible to reach a mental state that is free from sorrow and stress. The monk Gotama, who is known as the Buddha, referred to these experiences as jhānas (meditative states of deep concentration) in his teachings.

During these experiences, consciousness functions in a specific way that feels extremely fast, filled with clarity, and deeply connected to a state of well-being, neutrality, and intense inner joy. This feeling can be described as a kind of liberation. The monk Gotama, also known as the Buddha, referred to this type of awareness as "emancipated consciousness." However, we find a similar scenario as when an unpleasant sound is replaced by a pleasant one. A pleasant sensation is, by definition, free from unpleasant sensations.

If we attain a kind of completeness or divine state, we engage with an experience that lacks sorrow. Because this experience is highly enjoyable, it is also free from suffering. From this perspective, it is not merely the absence of suffering; rather, it represents a state where suffering cannot exist because other positive experiences fill the space entirely. To achieve these states of consciousness or these enlightening mental experiences, one needs to practice spiritual exercises that are outlined in various religious traditions, including Christian, Sufi, Hindu, Mahayana Buddhism, and others.

Plenitude is not the solution

Buddha himself taught these spiritual exercises. He described forty different practices that are not exclusive to any one tradition. Those who diligently and energetically engage in these practices can attain these unique spiritual experiences. However, Buddha emphasized that achieving a state of plenitude or completeness is not the ultimate answer. It results in a state of consciousness that is devoid of suffering since its inherent functioning prevents painful sensations from arising. This can be compared to a situation in a dentist's office where one does not experience pain because the method of distraction—like the use of anesthesia or focusing on something else—interferes with the feeling of discomfort.

Nevertheless, for him, that is not the solution. Those are states of consciousness that are free from suffering because their way of working does not allow painful feelings to exist. For example, when we are at the dentist's office, we do not feel any pain because the nerve endings that usually transmit pain signals are made inactive by an anesthetic. However, the usual elements are still present: the dentist's drill and the nerve are still there too. It is just that the experience of suffering has been temporarily blocked.

Thus, when we engage deeply in meditation exercises, experiencing a type of inner pleasure, we have not eliminated the root causes of suffering. Instead, we have temporarily muted a function. Since we no longer can feel suffering in that moment, we may mistakenly believe we have achieved a state that is completely free from it.

Stress, constraints and difficulties have been replaced by something far too voluminous, leaving no space for anything else to occur. The delight provided by the jhānas (which are deep states of meditation where concentration is heightened) is without otherness; this means that it is technically impossible for anything else to happen within them. It is already a significant achievement to reach this state, which can be accomplished through concentration. This involves focusing our attention on a single point—whether that be a thought, image, or mantra—for hours, months, or even years, without any break. Eventually, this focus may come to appear in our dreams or at any time during our day, even when we are not actively thinking about it. In such moments, we become fully immersed, feeling "one" with our meditation support. For instance, if we choose a symbol or a deity from our religious tradition as our focus, there will come a time when we achieve a kind of unity with this deity. At that point, we may no longer be able to distinguish the deity from our consciousness. We will be dwelling in the sphere of that deity, experiencing a deep connection. While it is a noteworthy accomplishment to reach this state, it is rare for individuals to achieve it. However, upon reflection, we might still question whether this experience truly represents complete liberation from suffering.

An unusual path

To the awakened Gotama (Buddha), the answer is negative. To the free thinker, who accepts nothing as true without questioning, the answer cannot be positive. What Buddha discovered is a hidden approach, a path that was not visible in his time. It is an unusual path that does not lead beings from suffering to bliss, or from unhappiness to happiness. Instead, it allows beings to stop creating suffering without generating happiness in its place. This situation is quite paradoxical. It involves bringing the process of causing and repeating suffering to a complete halt. The idea is to refrain from following any specific path at all. For Gotama Buddha, this is the only alternative to experiencing suffering. It is the absence of suffering, which comes from not committing to the path that leads to suffering. If we choose not to engage in the path that leads to suffering, we simultaneously avoid committing to the path that leads to happiness, sensory pleasure, or bliss. This is referred to as the path of abstention, or cessation.

The path of cessation leads us to change the way we relate to the world. Instead of committing ourselves to a specific practice or exercise that promises a particular result, we shift our focus. Specifically, we refrain from engaging in practices or exercises that are expected to yield a result. At this level, the question of whether the outcome will be joyful or painful becomes irrelevant, as both outcomes still pose challenges. This is why, in our journey, we do not immerse ourselves in the experience of jhānas (states of meditative absorption), which are referred to as sublime consciousness, absorbed consciousness, or divine consciousness. We are not pursuing a series of steps aimed at bringing about happiness, fulfillment, or inner peace. Instead, we concentrate on a step that involves stopping behaviors likely to produce these desired outcomes. This might seem unbelievable at first.

The absence of experience

While many people ponder the creation of the world, we are interested in the moment that precedes it. Numerous individuals focus on what actions should be taken to achieve a goal or obtain something desirable. Paradoxically, our true interest lies in the idea of letting go of the pursuit of reaching beyond this moment—that is, we aim to stop striving for external achievements or experiences.

Whereas many are those who wonder about the world's creation, we are interested in the moment that preceded it. Many people wish to understand what should be done to reach a certain goal or achieve something valuable in life. However, what interests us is the idea of no longer striving to reach or attain anything. Our aim is to explore the state where the world does not manifest, where existence itself is not produced. This inquiry leads us to consider a state free from both suffering and the fleeting pleasures that accompany it. For instance, imagine a situation where there is no unpleasant sound, but there is also no pleasant sound. This state represents the experience of silence, which, by definition, should not exist as a concrete experience. An experience typically requires something to focus on, known as an object. In this context, an object represents something that is present. In religions, spiritual traditions, or economic discussions, we often speak of this "presence."

Our exploration leads us towards the absence of presence, which is the absence of experience. It's important to clarify that this absence should not be mistaken for nothingness, a concept which does not truly exist. We become aware of this because the world is present right in front of us. Consequently, we cannot arrive at nothingness, because, simply put, nothingness does not exist; there is only the world around us. Perhaps there could have been a time when nothingness prevailed, but if that were the case, the world we see today wouldn’t exist either. Clearly, this is not our reality. Thus, while we confront the world and its absence, we find that this absence cannot be categorized as nothingness. This sets the stage for a complicated riddle that we must grapple with.

There must therefore be something that shouldn't be an experience, neither a sensation, nor a consciousness. This concept refers to an aspect of existence that is fundamentally devoid of suffering, but also lacks happiness, fullness, and joy. This state is often difficult to define, but it suggests a deeper experience beyond our typical emotions. The idea here is that something must exist because the universe cannot be based on nothingness. Therefore, we are confronting a kind of technical puzzle, where the questions we are exploring are rooted in logic and philosophical inquiry.

Nibbāna (Nirvana) is a key term in Buddhist teachings that refers to a state of liberation or freedom from suffering and the cycle of rebirth. It is described as an 'extinct element,' meaning it is not something that can be physically experienced or seen in the conventional sense. Buddha experienced this state, which contains no characteristics or form—hence it cannot fully be said to exist in our usual understanding, nor can it be dismissed as non-existent. He engaged with this profound concept through his consciousness but was unable to perceive it in a direct way. This profound experience, which lacks sensation, represents what is often called the experience of awakening. This awakening is challenging to articulate because it transcends ordinary experiences. Buddha employed various terms like 'liberation' or 'emancipation' to illustrate this state, often referring to it in context with 'divine consciousness' that comprises multiple levels of awareness.

To designate this unusual element, he used the word: nibbāna (enlightenment or liberation), which does not bear the meaning that many people ascribe to it: the flame that would have been blown off, the state empty of attachment, or empty of suffering. The word nibbāna doesn't really have a fixed lexical meaning. It serves a purpose, like all words do, but we can hardly trace it back to a single, definitive root. Scholars often enjoy finding etymologies for words. However, there comes a time when a word stands alone, without a clear origin. For example, the Greek root of the word "to petrify" comes from "petros," which means "stone" in French ("pierre"). "To petrify" means "to turn into stone." The word "pierre" refers to a "strong and solid mineral substance that forms compact masses." Similarly, the term "nibbāna" is used to indicate a specific state or concept in Buddhism but does not necessarily have a direct root word. It is not essential to trace a root for every word.

Buddha used this term, which was common in his time, to describe various states, including the stage of rice just out of the steam room or the state after death of a being, like a dog. Interestingly, the concept of a dead dog becomes paradoxical, as a body without life no longer functions as a dog. To clarify this, we use the term "parinibbāna" (final nibbāna), which refers to the ultimate state of nirvana, where all attachments and sufferings cease after death. Understanding these terms helps to grasp the deeper teachings of Buddhism and the journey towards enlightenment.

Buddha has used the word "nibbāna" (enlightenment or liberation) which was a common term during his time to describe profound states of existence. For example, it can refer to the stage of rice after being cooked in the steam room—ready to eat but still warm. He also used this term to describe the state of a dog after death. Paradoxically, however, once a dog is dead, it no longer exists as a living dog. In this context, we refer to "parinibbāna" (complete nibbāna or final liberation), which means "complete enlightenment", or "nibbāna that encompasses everything." When we take the rice out of the steam room, although it remains hot, it is no longer actively cooking. Similarly, we say the rice is in "parinibbāna", meaning it has not disappeared; rather, something fundamental has changed such that it is no longer the same as before. Buddha uses this term to describe a state that is free from suffering, sensations, joy, or even fullness. The term "nibbāna" (enlightenment) is indeed significant, but discussing it is challenging. It cannot be precisely defined, touched, or fully understood through ordinary experiences. Yet, it symbolizes an essential state that exists somewhere but is difficult to pinpoint or categorize. This idea can be seen as something that shouldn't belong to this world, in a sense, but paradoxically, it cannot be entirely separate from it either. It captures a moment of profound peace and liberation from all forms of attachment and suffering, which is a crucial aspect of Buddhist teachings.

The term utilised by Buddha to designate this kind of phenomenon is "loka uttara" (world transcending). "loka" means "the spot" or "the place", while "uttara" means "on this side of", "previous to", and importantly, it does not mean "beyond". This is contrary to what many scholars assert. Hence, "loka uttara" does not mean "beyond the world", but rather "on this side of the world" or "which is previous to the world". The selection of this term by Buddha is intentional. He taught that nibbāna (nirvana) exists prior to the world and not outside of it. In simple terms, it is a state that comes into being when the worldly phenomena cease to exist. Therefore, nibbāna is what is present before the world takes form, which refers to the emergence of all phenomena, regardless of their nature. It would not be productive to delve into nibbāna in great detail. However, it's useful to pause and reflect: "There must be, in this world, an alternative to suffering, pain, misery, and stress." If such an alternative exists, it must be something that is completely empty—empty of all experiences and sensations. This emptiness is what allows for liberation from worldly suffering, a key aim in Buddhist practice.

By following the way pointed out by Buddha, by listening to his teachings, and by engaging in the training he recommended—specifically the practice of establishing mindfulness (satipaṭṭhāna, which means 'the foundations of mindfulness')—we can aspire to experience a state of awakening. This awakening is a profound realization or insight into the nature of existence. Buddha emphasizes that this mindfulness practice is the only path leading to such enlightenment.

The concept of jhānas (meditative absorptions) refers to deeper states of mental concentration that can be achieved through meditation. These are stages of bliss and tranquility that help practitioners develop a calm mind conducive to deeper understanding. On the other hand, nibbāna (nirvana) is understood as the ultimate goal in Buddhism, representing liberation from the cycle of birth and death (samsara), characterized by the cessation of suffering and the extinguishing of desires. Knowing these terms helps us navigate the teachings more clearly.

How to establish the link between the extinct element and our daily lives?

We can try to concretely see what the experience of the extinct element (a concept in Buddhism referring to a state of non-attachment or the cessation of clinging) can bring about in our daily lives, whether we are school teachers, laborers, doctors, unemployed individuals, men, women, rich or poor, literate or illiterate, old or young. It is significant. How will it help us suffer less, feel less uneasy, be less miserable and stressed, and encounter fewer difficulties, even if it means we may enjoy fewer pleasures and experience less of the small happiness life offers? How can we establish a connection between that which exists before the world (often related to concepts such as ultimate reality or enlightenment in Buddhism), that which is empty, and our day-to-day experiences which are tangible and filled with sensations—good and bad, joy and pain, compassion and love, happiness and stress? What connection can we draw between these two realities? Does reaching awakening (nibbāna or enlightenment in Buddhism) mean merging into something suddenly? Does it imply that this body disappears, consciousness vanishes, and everything ceases to exist? Is there a bridgeable gulf between our worldly existence and that which existed prior to it, a bridgeable gap between our everyday life and a state of non-existence? If this were the case, what purpose would it serve?

That which beings (sentient creatures) desire, and this desire is the most legitimate in the world, involves achieving success in their daily lives and reducing their suffering. To be alive means encountering difficulties and stresses. This notion is widely accepted. However, we find ourselves in a situation where we are bound to live; we have no alternative. Therefore, we must contemplate how to navigate the time that exists between our understanding of this truth and our final moments on earth—those moments when we will face death (after which, the afterlife remains a mystery to us). What is significant about the practice of satipaṭṭhāna (establishing awareness) — a practice not merely a product of random chance— is that when we successfully experience the concept of the "extinct element," which is not part of our physical world but exists prior to it, we notice substantial changes in our perspectives and experiences. Once we achieve this understanding, many aspects of our reality begin to transform. These changes occur distinctly within our world, impacting how we perceive it.

The complete clearing

That which changed lies in the fact that our minds become less affected by negative emotions and desires, such as cravings, attachments, fascinations, anger, hatred, aversion, and indifference. When we say "mind," we refer to our thoughts and feelings that shape our experiences of the world. This change is crucial because it allows us to see reality more clearly. We are the ones who have undergone this transformation, quite simply.

One way to understand this experience is to compare it to a wheat field that is filled with weeds. Just as weeds can obstruct our view and appreciation of the healthy wheat, our negative thoughts and emotions can cloud our perception of life. In Buddhism, the experience of awakening is described as a complete clearing of these obstructive elements; in this state, nothing harmful grows. Once we attain this experience, we still find the world and its phenomena around us; they remain unchanged. However, this does not mean that our perception of them remains the same. In fact, we begin to notice the world differently. Instead of dealing with weeds by pulling them out one by one, which is a painstaking process that risks damaging the precious wheat, we can choose a more effective approach to clarity. This longer, daunting task can sometimes seem impossible, especially when we realize that even when we reach the end of the field, new weeds can start to grow again, symbolizing the continuous challenges of life.

The approach that is suggested is based on the experience of awakening, which refers to a deep understanding and realization of reality where nothing new develops or emerges. This state signifies a profound clarity, as it allows us to see things as they truly are. After this process of clearing our minds, we will observe that the 'wheat'—symbolizing positive qualities like wisdom and compassion—grows stronger, while the 'weeds'—representing negative emotions and unwholesome thoughts—become significantly fewer. Even when we remove the weeds and sow more wheat, there are still fewer weeds each time. Eventually, by the time we reach our fourth planting, we might find that no weeds remain. This transformation occurs after repeated experiences of awakening, where it becomes evident that all phenomena remain present. The entire universe is still there, nothing essential has vanished. However, one significant change occurs: certain negative emotions, such as pain, anger, jealousy, adversity, hatred, and ignorance, have disappeared, allowing for a more peaceful state of being.

If we reach the end of suffering in this world, it is not due to simply eliminating something from it; nor is it because we have replaced one thing with another. This phenomenon reflects a type of transcendence that can be associated with **jhānas** (states of deep meditative absorption). In Buddhism, achieving jhānas involves heightened states of consciousness during meditation, which lead to greater clarity and insight. When we attain well-being in this world, we do so not by removing or substituting something external, but by cultivating a profound internal transformation. This aligns with the idea of **nibbāna** (nirvana), which signifies the ultimate goal of liberation from suffering, characterized by the cessation of desire and attachment.

If we reached the end of suffering in this world, it is not because we have removed something from the world, nor is it because we have substituted something else for it; rather, it involves a kind of transcendence — in this case, it relates to the jhānas (meditative absorptions). If we have achieved a state of well-being in this world, it is due to eliminating all our unwholesome behaviors and attitudes. Consequently, we have also removed all wholesome behaviors and attitudes from this world. We no longer create attitudes or behaviors that are likely to result in displeasing and harmful consequences. Moreover, we do not produce any that could lead to pleasing and happy results. This inability to create such activities stems from having realized the experience of the extinct element, known as loka uttara (the ultimate freedom from worldly suffering). Here, we find a connection between the world and the cessation of the world: when the cessation of the world occurs, the world returns, everything comes back... though a few key ingredients are missing. Nothing had to be transformed, transmuted, rejected, or adopted. There is no ritual, no prayer, no meditation, no mantra, no steps to follow, no technique, and no procedure involved. We do not require any institution, neither a master nor the adoption of specific behaviors. On the contrary, the first thing we need to do is to begin dropping all of these elements.

In the first stage, we can start to let go of many behaviors, even before we begin the path of  vipassanā (insight meditation). This means we can begin to prepare ourselves by renouncing behaviors in body and speech that immediately cause pain, suffering, problems, or complications. The goal is to create a clearer, more peaceful state of mind.

Not to do anything

To completely halt mental attitudes, ideas, and behaviors associated with neurosis (a term referring to anxiety and psychological distress), we cannot reach this point simply by controlling our physical and verbal actions. Instead, we might practice a meditation designed to cultivate a sense of serenity and inner strength. While this can provide a temporary respite from distress (which may last as long as life persists, but still remains temporary), we can also aim to prevent these negative states from arising in the first place. For example, we can manage our desires by engaging in meditation exercises that lead to feelings of fulfillment, devoid of cravings, which is beneficial. However, the true aim is to reach a state of simply not controlling anything or actively doing anything, where we do not utilize any techniques, exercises, or meditative practices. The ultimate realization is that desires have completely faded away, not arising at all, even while the external environment remains unchanged. Achieving this state is far superior.

When we experience an illness and take medication, we can successfully eliminate the underlying cause, which may be bacteria, microbes, or viruses responsible for the disease. However, we cannot guarantee that these causes won’t return in the future. While it is important to have treated the disease, there remains the possibility of its recurrence.

This is why, in our practice, we focus on jhānas (states of meditative absorption), which provide experiences of deep happiness, spiritual insight, and connection to the divine. These experiences do not draw us in simply for their own sake. What truly captivates us in our practice is the ability to relieve pain, suffering, difficulties, and stress—ironically—without the use of a formal technique or exercise. If we rely on a specific exercise for these results, we may not achieve the lasting relief we desire. Thus, our approach is methodical and reflective. It is important to realize that to prevent stress-inducing thoughts from arising, one must engage with an experience that transcends the ordinary world. Paradoxically, this experience involves not having a direct connection to a tangible object, as it lies beyond our conventional reality.

This object, this thing, is that which we call  nibbāna (nirvana, a state of ultimate peace and liberation from suffering). We sometimes refer to it as  dhamma dhatu (element of truth) – or  suññata dhatu (empty element) – which means "the essence of emptiness". In this context, "suñña" means "empty" and "ta" means "that which is". Similarly, when we describe "dark", we mean "without light", and terms like "té" in French or "ness" (as in clarity) refer to "that which is". Therefore, darkness is "that which is without light".

In a comparable manner, nibbāna (nirvana) represents a state of being that is not something physical or tangible. It is important to understand that it is not a thing we can hold or a phenomenon we can perceive; rather, it symbolizes the absence of suffering and attachment. This is why we refer to it as "that which is empty". This understanding sets apart our approach from typical meditation practices found in various schools of thought. This distinction helps us stay apart,  a fortiori (even more so), from the mindset of a consumer society that often prioritizes material gains over spiritual fulfillment.

You will ascertain that often, people who adhere to a spiritual tradition have the habit to spit at the consumer world, while telling about others: