Audio (TCP7, Day 12): Stage Eight, Jhāna Factors
A talk on the eighth stage of śamatha (calm abiding), ekotīkaraṇa (single-pointedness), and its correspondence to the jhāna factors of the first absorption, followed by a full guided breath and mettā-spreading meditation. Includes the story behind Thich Nhat Hanh’s dharma name (“one practice”) and Q&A on subtle-breath technique.
Sakya tradition · IBA Kathmandu · The Complete Path (TCP) 2026 · English · Talk + guided sit
For the full Sanskrit/Pali/Tibetan glossary and nine-stages reference table, see the Glossary and Summary for Morning Meditations.
Transcript
Okay, good morning dear friends. Welcome back. I hope you had a nice break. We gather again for our morning meditation practice and a little theory part of the Complete Path, 2026 here at IBA. Tinchuli Kathmandu. We slowly draw near to the conclusion of our time together and also towards the pointy end of the nine stages, if you like.
The sharp, the sharp end, the point of the needle as it were, because in this stage eight we at last meet a term, a name for this phase of the practice which is familiar for one who is well versed in the Pali map of Śamatha, of calm abiding. Ekotīkaroti. Ek, eka, one. Making the mind one-pointed. I quite like the Spanish translation. Unipuntano. Unipuntual.
The implication that here at last, rather than being scattered across many different objects, the mind is satisfied with paying attention just to one thing, one thing at a time. And so important is this attitude or this relationship of mind to object for cultivation, for bhāvanā.
We came across an interesting way to translate bhāvanā into Chinese, yang [likely 養 yǎng, “to nurture” — Chinese gloss, UNVERIFIED, could not cross-check against a CH recording for this exact word] that is synonymous with emergence in English, something that emerges when the conditions are sufficient, not something that we create as it were from scratch but we allow to come forth to emerge through our practice.
But so important is this doing one thing for this cultivation that the teacher of Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh actually gave him a name that means the same thing in Vietnamese, in Chinese.
Yixing Fashi [一行法師 Yīxíng Fǎshī, “Master One-Practice” — confirmed against the CH translator recording for this session; this is the literal source of “Nhất Hạnh”], master do one thing or one direction you can also translate which is kind of a contrast to the emphasis or the idea that is more fashionable nowadays that multitasking is a virtue. We are doing lots of things at once.
We are kind of encouraged to try and do as many things at once as possible. Drinking coffee and reading our email while also listening to the news and maybe having an important discussion about the future of our relationship with our partner or any other kind of combination of activities.
But here we are reminded that in order to really taste the fruit of almost any activity, we really have to pay attention wholeheartedly to that activity.
And as I think we mentioned right at the beginning, if we play a musical instrument or have a sport or even a favorite hobby, a game that we enjoy, a topic that we love, to research, if we can pay attention, concentrate our mind on that activity, it begins to offer us a reward that we cannot get from paying 10, 20, even 30 or 40% of our attention.
Athletes especially talk about a flow state in which the body and mind become kind of unified in whatever pursuit activity. Even if it’s quite strenuous, the sensation of effort begins to drop away. The muscles know what to do.
And even if it becomes challenging, the thought of giving up is not high in the mind’s priority so that a marathon runner can continue to run even beyond the point where the body maybe would otherwise say, okay, enough, stop. But there is a certain combination of qualities. Again, we found this word constellation, like the stars. Among them is actually the appropriate level of difficulty.
If there is no effort required, if it’s too easy, then the mind can also kind of switch off. No need to really pay much attention. But if it’s too difficult, we get frustrated. So this is a balance that we need to find in our practice.
And in this stage, indeed, in the nine stages, this ekotīkaroti and this single-pointedness, at this point, it is very important that mindfulness and samprajanya, clear knowing, is still active in order to bring the balance, especially that clear knowing. But at this point of single focus, the main power of attention that comes into play is simply our will, our wish or intention.
Vyāyāma or vīrya-bala. So there is still this sense of needing to make an effort, though this effort is now one dissimilar to that forceful attention that we had to use right at the beginning. So slowly, samprajanya mindfulness can drop into the background, and this wise effort that knows when to apply the appropriate antidote comes into the foreground, keeping us in balance.
In this way, our attention can become uninterrupted, niśchidravāhana-manasikāra. Not forceful and not interrupted, our attention staying in continuity with the object of our choosing. Wherever we choose to put our attention, our effort, this object arises in clarity and is able to fulfil the mind.
But without getting too caught in theory, because I think the experience that we will have had up until now in our practice is that the reward comes through application of the instruction, not simply learning the instruction, but putting it into practice.
We can see that in the understanding of the Southern schools, the factors of the first absorption, the first experience of the mind coming into continuity of attention on one object, map very closely onto these same nine stages. We have the kind of attention that transports the mind to the object, vitarka, an attention that holds the mind with that object, vicāra.
We have this quality of relaxation and ease in the body that even allows us some pleasant experience as a result of our meditation in the body, pīti, a blissful feeling.
Maybe for us in our practice this is a fleeting experience, but you’ll remember that a hint can be to sit with the whole body, not to kind of throw the skeleton down onto the cushion as it were, prop it up as best we can and then forget the body for the rest of the session, but to sit in a way that uses the whole body, gently holding us upright, but also supple, recognizing when the posture becomes uncomfortable and we can gently move or recognizing when the posture collapses and the breath becomes narrow, restricted.
And if we can do that, then it is possible to have a kind of contentment also in the mind, sukha, and these factors together along with that satipaṭṭhāna attitude, not clinging or pushing away at any experience, gives rise to single-pointedness. So these are the jhāna factors for the first jhāna. So the map starts to align, to correspond here.
Perhaps for the first time we’ve been meeting such different terms, sthāpayati, saṃsthāpayati, avasthāpayati, very different from the Pali map. But there is one important difference here that it is worth noting without again getting too caught in theory, best for us to experience it directly.
But it is quite clear in the Bhāvanākrama of Kamalaśīla, this manual for cultivation, that while in the Southern school understanding the mind becomes fixed on the object, the nimitta, in a sense the type of connection with the object that is evoked by one of the words for the meditation of the mind. The mind and the object are ālambana in Sanskrit, like a hook on the end of a fishing line.
Somewhere for the mind to hang itself, there is this sense of the mind being stuck there. And indeed this is the quality of relationship in the first jhāna, that the mind doesn’t slide off the object anymore, it stays hooked.
But if we take as our goal from the beginning to not be caught in signs, lakṣaṇa — nimitta is kind of synonym of that word, lakṣaṇa — then our goal is not to become hooked on any object. So this is a subtle difference that we can contemplate in our practice. What does that mean off the cushion as well? To not be caught, to not be hooked.
So as we conclude, as always, reflecting on our practice session, perhaps noticing an experience that has been different or the same as a past practice session, a tendency to sinking or to excitement and agitation perhaps, and an antidote that has been applied effectively even, neither too much nor too little perhaps, or noticing if we have over applied an antidote, not missing out on the chance to add to our learning.
The only bad meditation being the one that we skip. And taking a moment, if there are any questions, an experience that could benefit from some light being shone upon it, or something that needs clarification, or even just an observation, something that we have found helpful in our practice that may benefit another. In that case, I would like to ask a question.
When I describe the instruction of placing attention just outside the body, does this make sense? Did anyone experiment with this instruction? Did anyone try? Does anyone know why this instruction might be useful? Can we guess? Why, if we are interested in the breath and finding a hook for the mind, why would we then move the attention outside the body?
There’s no nerve endings there in mid-air, in front of my nose. How can I feel the breath in this place? Strange, no? So actually Pa-Auk Sayadaw himself, Pa-Auk Sayadaw, he recommends this instruction as a skillful means for not getting caught in sensations of one type or another. Because the body, once we go inside there, no doubt we have experienced this for ourselves.
Many, many different sensations, constantly changing and shifting. Now pleasant, now unpleasant, even some of you may have noticed an overwhelming urge to scratch the nose. It becomes almost like ticklish at that place. This is actually okay. You can gently use a hand, give rise to some gross sensation there to allow this very subtle, almost too subtle ticklish sensation to subside.
But if we bring our attention just outside the body, yet still clearly know that this is the in-breath, this is the out-breath, what can come into the foreground of our experience? Very interesting. Suddenly I can breathe with the whole body again, but also I am paying attention to a breath that is so subtle, it is more related to my mind than to my body.
This is the breath at its most subtle, a mental image of the breath. And as we know from the Yogācāra, even as it is understood in the Madhyamaka perspective, at this phase of our understanding everything is mind. Even the breath, something to experiment with in our practice. Good luck. Thank you to those friends who have waited so patiently.
It’s very helpful for our practice sessions if we can wait outside until this time before coming in. Also coming at 7.45 for the beginning of the sit, but avoiding the temptation even to tiptoe in because those of us practising in 7.45, trying our best to cultivate continuity of attention in the beginning, very easy to become distracted.
So thank you for your support, thank you to our translators for your patience and your presence, and to Matthias, ever present, making sure that we are able to hear the teachings, especially those from His Holiness. So I wish you a lovely day.
The English recording ends after the talk and Q&A above (around 23 minutes in). The guided sit itself that followed was not captured in English — most likely the recorder was paused — and is reconstructed here via back-translation from the Chinese interpreter’s recording (CH-12): a translation of a translation, not a verbatim original. It covers roughly the middle portion of the sit; a closing review/Q&A in the Chinese recording afterward is not reproduced here, since it may not be the same exchange as the “placing attention outside the body” Q&A already captured above in English.
Let’s find a comfortable, suitable, stable posture, one that will support the practice to come. Widening our awareness. Bringing to mind the aspiration for this sit, not only for our own liberation — perhaps we can call to mind some specific people, some specific situation, making that aspiration concrete, wishing that they too may taste peace and ease. Having done that, let’s also settle our intention, bringing our new object of attention into focus. Relaxing the body. Relaxing the mind. Allowing distractions to come and go naturally.
Breathing in, aware of the in-breath, feeling the breath in the body — this is our support point, a comfortable object of attention. Breathing out, aware of the out-breath, its movement inside the body, feeling it connected steadily. Noticing how the coarser breath moves, how it expands in the body — is it cool or warm, still or flowing? Relaxing the body.
When a thought arises, noticing it — is it pleasant or not, is this bodily feeling wanted or not? If a thought of past or future arises, letting all such thoughts naturally dissolve. Gentle patience. Encouragement. Aware of the breath.
Breathing in, aware of the in-breath, gently inviting the feeling of the breath. Attentive awareness. Aware of the breath’s path, perhaps noticing very subtle sensations, or thoughts. Soft. Gentle. Not following the in-breath and out-breath completely, but rather being aware and letting it come and go naturally, like a bystander on a riverbank simply watching the water flow, not swept away by the waves.
When the breath touches the body, feeling that point of contact. As the breath moves in the body, feeling its contact with the body, but not being seized by any one sensation — for instance, when air flows into the nostrils, not grasping at that sensation, but knowing simply that it has happened, and that it flows out again naturally. Not straining. Letting every sensation come and go freely, letting it come, and go.
Breathing in, feeling the in-breath and its whole course, beginning, middle, end. Breathing out, feeling the out-breath, beginning, middle, end. No need to change it. Not grasping or pushing away any part of this experience, pleasant or unpleasant. Taking the breath as an anchor point, letting distraction, like waves, come and go, come and go.
The whole body breathing. Relaxing. Breathing in, aware of the in-breath, sustained, beginning, middle, end, expanding, and as it moves in the body, feeling it become more vivid, clear, subtle. Carrying this same awareness into ordinary life, moving or still, at the nostrils or throughout the body, without changing the breath.
Breathing out, quietly feeling the whole course of the out-breath, how it expands, flows, and settles from movement into stillness, even for just a moment, like a wave folding back. Simply staying with this subtle flow. Relaxing the whole body, sitting actively, alert, aware, not in a state of dullness or agitation, letting distracting thoughts come and go, arise and dissolve.
Holding this quality of attention, of mindfulness — it is cultivated through familiarity, continuing to build this awareness through repetition. Aware of the breath: one, in-breath, out-breath; two, in-breath, out-breath; three, and so on, up to ten if possible. If distracted and the count is lost or forgotten, patiently beginning again from one, with a sense of ease. When mindful, inviting a feeling of comfort, ease and peace into the body. Sitting actively — that is, sitting fully with awareness. Letting all distracting thoughts settle away, settle away.