by Deborah Helzer
“What is this?” my first meditation teacher asked me as she held out a small brass bell in her hand. “What is this?” This was my first introduction to the koan… a Zen teaching question that is asked in everyday language, but must be answered in a deeper way. After reflecting, I reached out, took the bell, and gave it a quick ring. We both sat silently for a few moments, listening to the sound resonate and then fade away.
This style of Zen didn’t become the mainstay of my budding Buddhist practice, but my encounter with the koan made an impression that has stayed with me. How is it that we go about answering our questions? We have so many questions… about ourselves, others around us, our communities and our world, about what it means to be human. How do we answer these questions in a way that truly satisfies?
In insight meditation, we don’t work with koans, but we cultivate that same capacity to question on a level that goes beyond words and ideas. Our main tool is mindfulness, the ability to keep in mind what is actually happening in this moment. We set our engagement with thinking aside for a while, so that we can see what is happening in a different way. This is the literal meaning of the Pali word vipassana that is usually translated as insight – seeing things differently.
The cultivation of mindfulness is an ongoing journey. The mind races, or wanders, or falls asleep. The body complains and resists. We struggle to remain aware for even the length of one breath.
We have to learn how to temper our effort – not pushing too hard and trying to force awareness, not relaxing too much and losing sight of our experience. We have to learn how our minds and bodies don’t behave the way we want, despite our best efforts or entreaties. And we have to learn to hold all of this with greater patience, acceptance, and compassion.
Gradually, with practice, we become more at ease with ourselves. We’re no longer so distressed by the discomforts in our bodies. We’re no longer so distracted by the favorite obsessions of our minds. We learn how to take things more in stride and respond more skillfully. Mindfulness starts to seem more possible and more available. There are stretches of time when we can actually stop struggling and relax into the moment. This can feel wonderful and can bring many benefits.
But still, the question remains: What is this? To quote one famous teacher, “Awareness alone is not enough.”
The purpose of our practice is not only to develop balanced awareness, but to see things in a different way, and to learn about ourselves on a different level. With an attitude of mindfulness, we can explore more deeply the actual experience of being alive in this moment.
That quality of curiosity and exploration is usually called investigation.
However, when we speak about investigation in meditation, the meaning is somewhat different than in ordinary usage. It doesn’t involve trying to figure things out. The Pali term is dhammavicaya, which means exploration of the truth. We could think of it as engaged mindfulness, or active mindfulness. It’s not an intellectual investigation based on thinking, but a non-verbal, direct sensing of our experience that reveals different aspects.
Investigation draws our attention closer to an experience, immerses us in it, so that we can take in more of its unique flavor and texture, its qualities and effects. Our thoughts may detect an experience and wonder about it, but the activity of investigation is different from thinking. It is the direct contact of our awareness with the experience in an intimate and active way. As with the koan, we may question with ordinary language, but then open to receive the answer in a fuller, deeper, wordless way.
I remember visiting our local park with my daughter when she was small. Young children and animals can teach us a lot about the quality of investigation. On a summer day, I may pass by a rose bush and think, “What beautiful flowers!” This is like simple mindfulness. I’ve been present, I’ve noticed what was there and enjoyed it, but my connection with the experience has been pretty superficial.
My child, on the other hand, would be totally engrossed by the flowers. She’d go up to the bush and put her face right into an open blossom, and then another, and another. She’d try the buds, the half-open roses, the leaves. She’d put her fingers on everything to feel the texture and temperature. Even the thorns, to see if what I said about their prickliness was true. This is the spirit of investigation, which yields a much fuller and richer understanding of the experience.
As meditators, can we relate to our inner experience with that same quality of active, open interest? Or do we fall into habitual assumptions that one breath is pretty much like the next, that the pain in our knee is necessary evil, that the sadness, longing, or boredom that we feel are just nuisances? Can we connect with a spirit of curiosity and wonder to ask deeply, “what is this?” of each experience that comes our way?
Sometimes I will ask meditators if they can notice the very beginning of an in-breath, the very first sensation. Or the very end of the in-breath, the very last sensation. Or what happens in between the in-breath and the out-breath, or between the out-breath and the in-breath. It’s not that there is anything magical about these details. But the simple act of looking in this way, carefully, closely, with new interest and fresh eyes, can help to awaken the power of investigation.
The Buddha gave many teachings that invite us to investigate our experience in this way. He instructed us to explore our physical senses, the dimensions of seeing, hearing, tasting and smelling. He pointed out that what we each think of as “my body” is actually an amorphous field of temperature, mass and movement, constantly swirling and changing. He pointed out how even the mind, when we look at it differently, breaks down into relatively few core processes, each rolling along and performing its function.
Much of the Dharma serves as a travel guide for exploring what we call our “self” from this different perspective of vipassana, which leads to greater wisdom, and greater compassion. When we pay attention with care and interest, then any experience can become fascinating, all experience can become fascinating. And not just fascinating, but a cause for awakening, whether it is a breath or a rose, our deepest pain or our greatest joy.
Over and over again throughout my practice, I’ve had to learn and re-learn this lesson. It’s always tempting to let the mind answer, to try to figure life out. We are powerfully conditioned to rely on thinking. It takes a great leap of faith to be willing to set that aside and try a different approach. To be willing to let go of what we think is true, and open to what is actually true. To be willing to jump into the stream of our lives and ask, “What is this?”
Deborah Helzer has studied with western and Asian teachers, including a year as a Theravadin nun. She was mentored by senior teachers at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, MA, and has been sharing the dharma since the early 2000s. She will be leading a retreat November 10-12, 2023 at the Temple Buddhist Center in Kansas City.