The Sanskrit word “samādhāna” has many connotations. What comes immediately to mind is “satisfaction” or “contentment,” which is how the word is popularly understood in some Indian languages. If we examine how the word is derived, we get a clearer picture. It’s a combination of two terms, “proper” (samyak) and “placing” (ādhāna). Placing the mind properly on any activity—meaning with total attention—not only is an efficient way to do things but it also brings considerable satisfaction. The practice of placing the mind properly—in short, concentration (samādhāna)—is the fifth of the “six treasures” (ṣaṭ-sampatti).
Where is the mind concentrated in the practice of Vedanta? Śaṅkarācārya makes that clear in his definition of the term (Vivekacūḍāmaṇi, 26):
सम्यगास्थापनं बुद्धे: शुद्धे ब्रह्मणि सर्वदा । तत्समाधानमित्युक्तं न तु चित्तस्य लालनम् ।
samyag-āsthāpanaṁ buddheḥ śuddhe brahmaṇi sarvadā,
Tat samādhānam-iti-uktam na tu cittasya lālanam.
Concentration does not mean pampering the mind but directing it fully toward the pure Brahman.
The definition has a note of warning. Every concentrated activity brings intellectual or emotional satisfaction, or both, and results in contentment. But if contentment is all that we seek, then that would be nothing more than “pampering the mind.” For concentration to become a spiritual practice, the mind needs to be focused on the highest ideal. In Vedanta, the ideal is consciousness-itself unattached to any object, signified by the term Brahman (lit. “vast, infinite”). The qualifier “pure” in the verse denotes that Brahman is unique and nondual, uncontaminated by the existence of anything else.
To many, Brahman feels too abstract to draw their entire being. They find Brahman too impersonal. For them the spiritual ideal becomes more real, more tangible, more accessible, when they see it in personal terms, clothed in the language of form (rūpa) and qualities (guṇa). This personal aspect of the Divine may appear different, but it is not really different from Brahman. It is the same reality seen through the lens of form and qualities. When the lens melts away, as it eventually does, the seeming difference between the form and the formless, the personal and the impersonal, disappears too. In truth, Brahman is neither personal nor impersonal but beyond them both.
Though not a spiritual goal in itself, contentment is nevertheless a useful state of mind for the practice of concentration. If the mind is filled with despondency (avasāda) or too much exuberance (uddharṣa), it becomes unfit for spiritual practice. Not for nothing did Swami Vivekananda say:
“Despondency is not religion, whatever else it may be. By being pleasant always and smiling, it takes you nearer to God, nearer than any prayer. … At the same time you must avoid excessive merriment. A mind in that state never becomes calm; it becomes fickle. Excessive merriment will always be followed by sorrow. Tears and laughter are near kin. People so often run from one extreme to the other. Let the mind be cheerful, but calm. Never let it run into excesses, because every excess will be followed by a reaction.” (CW, 4. 11)
Can we find the ideal middle ground, neither wallowing in despair nor brimming with excitement, but simply dwelling in serenity? For concentration to succeed, it is essential that the mind remain alert, contented and cheerful, but without reacting to every stupid stimulus, internal or external.
What does the practice of concentration do? Three things, all very important. First, it helps me gain knowledge. As Swami Vivekananda pointed out:
“The world is ready to give up its secrets if we only know how to knock, how to give it the necessary blow. The strength and force of the blow come through concentration.” (CW 1. 130-31).
The human mind is a lot more powerful than we think. The more concentrated the mind becomes, the more of its power becomes manifest, leading to greater and deeper knowledge. Ignorance (ajñāna) of our true nature is at the root of all our problems—so knowledge (jñāna) of who we really are is what we absolutely need.
The second benefit of concentration is that it increases the power of assimilation which, for spiritual seekers, shortens the time for gaining knowledge and attaining illumination. It is as if the illumined soul manages to live in a single lifetime the millions of years of the gently evolving life of entire humanity. The more concentrated the mind is, the more transparent it becomes and reveals the truth fully and clearly.
Improving the efficiency and quality of our work is the third benefit of the practice. This is something most of us will have experienced in our own lives. There are times when we lose ourselves in the work, so fully immersed we are in it, so focused and concentrated, that when the work is over, we discover to our great joy that the quality of the work is immensely better than if we had done the same work in an egoistic way, anxious about the results or hankering for recognition.
The practice of concentration thus leads to knowledge, increases the power of assimilation, accelerates spiritual progress, and improves the quality of work. Tremendous as these benefits are, the difficulties in concentrating the mind are tremendous as well.
That is why merely a desire to concentrate is never enough for success in the practice. We also need love—real love. Concentration becomes easy, natural and effortless when there is love in the heart. The quality of my meditation, and my success in it, are directly related to how much I love my chosen ideal (iṣṭa-devatā). Bereft of love, the practice becomes mechanical, dry and ultimately fruitless.
Recognizing the importance of the practice is another factor that makes a big difference. When I am trying to concentrate, do I believe that my meditation practice is important enough for me to set aside all other priorities at least for a time? Am I convinced that the practice is worth the time and energy that I am investing into it? The presence of what we call distractions is nothing but things that the mind considers more important than what I am trying to do in meditation. If my mind routinely chooses to ignore me and goes its own way—that is a huge problem.
The hurdles to concentration begin to disappear when I am able to get control over my mind and the senses. Which is why restraint of the mind (śama) and the senses (dama) is so vital for good concentration. When the mind and the senses are disciplined, a life dedicated to ethical values (dharma) becomes a natural way to live. Supported by a strong motivation, which is provided by the power of love toward the ideal, distractions gradually disappear and concentration is no longer a challenge. Everything is done with a mind that is focused, not with strenuous effort but because of the mind’s natural disposition.
Once we taste the utter joy and freedom of living with a mind that is free to attach itself to anything totally and unreservedly—which is what concentration is—but also detach itself completely when the job is done, it is impossible to go back to our old ways of life.
We will next turn to faith (śraddhā), the last—and probably the most important— among the “six treasures.”
from Vedanta Blog - Vedanta Society https://ift.tt/Cqy7mf5