Teachers: Toni Packer
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Does All Effort Come from the Self?
Toni's response to a letter from Jim Coleman, April 1998.
Dear Toni,
Tonight the moon was just a sliver in the sky. Countless stars could be seen scattered across the heavens, and a little smudge of mist gave the moon such an amazing glow that for a moment the busy world of thought could not intrude.
Ever since the California retreat, I have been wondering about the question of effort. Does all effort come from the self? Does effort have a role in the process of opening to the world, or is it just one more trap of ego-delusion? In one sense it seems that effort is merely energy expended. When I go to the gym it takes more effort to lift a 100 pound weight than a 50 pound weight.
Clear awareness seems to require a certain amount of energy. When I am groggy from sleep or a drink, clear awareness is much less likely to be present. So can effort then be the source of the energy necessary to see clearly, or is effort perhaps the energy needed to change the habits of thought that distract us from the present moment? On the other hand, however, effort is so often associated with the desires of the self. I will expend all this effort and become a better person, meditator, teacher, father. I have often seen the tensions in the body and subtle fears of failure that go with my efforts to achieve some end, no matter now well intentioned it may be. Many meditation practices put great emphasis on effort of some sort or another, and I can see how easily that becomes a trap. Can there nonetheless be such a thing as right effort as the Buddha claimed?
Warmest regards,
Jim Coleman
Dear Jim,
Let's look at this whole question of effort together. It may help to avoid confusion if we both agree at the beginning on a definition of the word effort. Can we agree that by effort we mean energy expended to get what we want? We can say that it takes effort to become someone we would like to be — an accomplished swimmer, and to get what we desire — a gold medal. Lifting a 100 pound weight in order to improve fitness involves effort in that sense of the word.
You write that clear awareness seems to require energy. Would it be more accurate to say that awareness is energy? Not the energy of trying to become more aware in order to become a better person. I'm speaking of the pure energy of simply being here this very moment of living. As it happens, awareness is always here, even when self-absorption in thoughts and emotions spreads like smog throughout the system. Even the grogginess of sleep or drink can come into awareness, can't it? When we think about awareness, we usually assume it must always be bright and strong, brimming with wake-fulness and vitality. But does feeling physically weak or mentally exhausted necessarily mean being unaware? When we are tired or groggy there is certainly a diminished capacity to think clearly and talk coherently, and there is a strong impulse to go to sleep, but this need not involve a lack of awareness of what's going on.
Let's get back to your initial questions whether effort has a role in one's opening up to the world, and whether effort can be the source of awareness. We have defined effort to mean energy expended to achieve something. But is awareness something achievable? Is it a state attainable in the future? We can think about it in this way, but awareness is not what I am thinking about. Awareness simply illumines what's here right now and that includes present thoughts about awareness and effort. In open awareness thoughts become transparent as thinking, here and now, in the midst of typing a letter, computer keys clicking, printer humming, wind blowing. Everything is immediately present, effortlessly, without any intention to be aware.
Watching the moon at night, its amazing glow among countless stars scattered across the heavens — was there any effort to keep thoughts from intruding, or did it simply happen?
We may think about effort as a source of awareness, but in presently awaring this thinking, there is no effort. Rain is dropping on the roof, breath is flowing. Where is the effort?
Just because, to the thinking brain, everything in this world seems to have a cause and an effect, there is a deeply lodged assumption that awareness too must have a cause, a deeper source. Is that so? People have found that putting a lot of effort into sitting during a silent retreat may result in greater awareness — absence of self-consciousness and isolation. Do we conclude from this that long sitting causes awareness? When something as marvelous as sudden openness, clarity, and lack of separation happens, thought sooner or later tries to figure out what brought about this marvel, wondering: "What was I doing just before this happened? I must try to do that again." The brain is conditioned to assume that what happened before is responsible for what is going on now, and that I must have something to do with it!
Over the years I have wondered what it is about silent retreats that seems to facilitate the emergence of openness, presence, and a purity of being. But it remains impossible to pin down any precipitating cause. We all know that time spent in motionless silence does not necessarily lead to a quiet mind. All I can say is that pure awareness is the silence of all habitual efforts to get someplace. It is the absence of any sense of me-in-time. In the past all kinds of efforts were made to learn to sit still over long periods of time, which undoubtedly played a part in learning to remain motionless in the midst of fear, pain, pleasure, and the restless desire to be somewhere else. Having the opportunity to sit quietly, over time, the bodymind is amazingly intelligent in learning new ways of being in the midst of the pushes and pulls of old habits. Habits are energies expended, but sitting quietly is energy gathering: awaring habits intelligently, letting them go without effort.
So maybe awareness is not brought about by anything, but is here timelessly, effortlessly, shining abundantly like the sun when the clouds of straining and grasping dissipate.
Do we need to learn to stop straining and grasping? Maybe we do. Overdoing it time and time again and clearly realizing the tension and futility involved, do we begin to unlearn? At the end of your letter you mention having noticed "the tensions in the body and subtle fears of failure that go with my efforts to achieve some end." Can intelligent awareness dissipate this futile striving?
Is there such a thing as the Buddha's "Right Effort," you ask. It is a marvelous inquiry creating its own abundant energy. It is just wondering quietly this moment, listening inwardly without wanting, knowing, or expecting anything.
With affection,
Toni