Luang Por Anan Akiñcano

About Ajahn Anan Venerable 

Ajahn Anan Akiñcano was born in the provincial town of Saraburi, Central Thailand, on the 31st of March, 1954, with the name of Anan Chan-in. From an early age he would regularly accompany his parents to the local temple to chant and pay respects to the monks, and he recalls experiencing feelings of great ease and joy whenever looking at images of the Buddha. During his school days he was known to be well-mannered and keen in his studies, and after graduation was hired as an accountant at Siam Cement Company. Though a diligent employee, he found himself increasingly drawn to Buddhist practice and began living at a nearby monastery during his hours away from work.

For the next year, working as an accountant and strictly observing the eight precepts of a lay practitioner, he was able to increase his meditation efforts and his confidence in the Buddha's teachings. After offering food to the monks each morning, he would travel to work and then return to the monastery in the evening to practice mediation. One day he had an experience of profound insight into the nature of all phenomena, followed by three days and three nights of a happiness unlike anything he had felt before. This experience removed any remaining doubts about committing his life to the Buddha's teachings, and soon afterwards he decided to enter the monastic order.

On July 3rd, 1975, he took full ordination under his preceptor and teacher, the Venerable Ajahn Chah. He was given the Pali name Akiñcano, meaning "one without worries," and spent the next four years diligently practising meditation and developing care and attentiveness around the more routine aspects of monastic life. During this period he acted as Ajahn Chah's personal attendant, which provided him with the opportunity to develop a close connection with his teacher. Though his meditation was up and down during these early years as a monk, in his fourth year it reached a point where it did not decline again.

After the intensive training period with Ajahn Chah, he was allowed the opportunity to seek out more secluded places to further his efforts in meditation. Living in remote forests and charnel grounds, he met with various hardships both outside and within. Still, he committed himself to this way of life for several years, growing in endurance, contending with serious bouts of malaria which took him close to death on many occasions. In 1984 he was offered a section of uninhabited land on which to build a forest monastery. Accompanied by two other monks and a novice, the group settled in the dense forest of Rayong province at what is now known as Wat Marp Jan, "Monastery of the Moonlit Mountain."

Nearly 25 years later, Ajahn Anan's reputation as a meditation master has grown, along with the number of monks coming to practice under him and seek his guidance. The monastery and the surrounding area have developed considerably since the time of his arrival, reflecting both Ajahn Anan's presence and his contribution to the region. Today, he attends to his many duties as abbot and teacher, sharing his time between monks and lay guests and looking after a growing number of branch monasteries.

"If we are going to gain expertise in investigation, we have to do it often. Really develop it a lot, do it a lot."

At the start we will probably experience fatigue, exhaustion and difficulties because we have to poke at and look right into all our moods,  into  all  the  feelings  and  thoughts  that  come  up—the manifestations  of  liking  and  disliking.  But  we  have  to  keep investigating continuously and consistently so that the mind doesn’t go chasing after all these moods.

When we start to be able to follow and guard the mind, we are in the present and our samādhi begins to progress a lot more smoothly.

The mind will be able to move to the level of khanika samādhi. But whenever we walk caïkama or sit in meditation, this samādhi will go deeper. Fixing attention on the kammaññhāna that we are using and are skilled in, the mind can move to upacāra samādhi.

Whether we are walking or sitting, whichever we find the most effective, by taking up the method we have gained proficiency in, entering upacāra samādhi will be quick and easy because we are already skilled.

But when we come out of upacāra samādhi and encounter the various emotions and moods, the mind will still get involved in them. So we have to keep our sati up  with them.  If  we continually investigate the body, feelings, mind and mind objects, our sati will become firmer and our samādhi will become stronger.

Being able to develop the mind to enter appanā samādhi depends on our accumulated merit. Some monks don’t experience it until after many years, some experience it after five or six years, and some in only one year.

Appanā samādhi…this is where samādhi is at its most calm and cool. Vitakka, vicāra, pīti (rapture), sukha (joy) and ekaggatā all converge into one. It’s like the pendulum of a grandfather clock that usually swings from right to left, but has stopped still in the middle.

At this point, even if we want to think, we can’t. The mind is so still that there is no movement of thought whatsoever, no proliferation. There is only the knowing.

After the mind has been calm and still for a duration depending on its own strength, it will withdraw from that state. We then have to move into investigation. We take up this body, our physical form, and investigate to see it with total clarity in the light of anicca, dukkha, anattā.

From here our investigation will move along by itself, as if on automatic. It has a momentum of its own. We investigate to see ourselves as merely elements. We can investigate our own hair. Suppose our hair falls out, we will realise that it isn’t ours or a self.

This will give rise to the understanding that there isn’t a permanent entity or a self.

Wisdom will arise.

The mind and  body will separate and be seen clearly as different from each other. The mind and feelings will also separate. We will see clearly…true understanding.

But if we don’t yet have the ability to enter appanā samādhi and our investigation isn’t at the point where we can see this separation clearly, then we must rely on continually developing whatever level of samādhi we have.

This whole process will lead to the maturing of the practice and the understanding of Dhamma. We maintain khanika samādhi when in a normal state going about our daily activity and then when we sit the mind will go straight into upacāra samādhi. In time, we will be able to  remain  in upacāra samādhi in all postures.

When the mind proceeds deeper into its investigation of the body, feelings, mind and mind objects, it will incline towards appanā samādhi. The mind’s strength progresses around itself like this.
Now the mind will be able to see sharply and clearly.

Before we are fully skilled in entering appanā samādhi, it is possible to have some periods of the mind staying in upacāra samādhi for a whole month. The body and mind are light and at ease. There are still external sense impressions but they don’t affect the heart because samādhi has separated them out due to its power. Effort and diligence in the practice now has a momentum of its own. The heart will always be wakeful and alert equipped with the (seven factors of enlightenment). There is pīti, sati, and samādhi.

If we make the effort to maintain sati continuously, mindfully keeping up with all the moods and emotions we experience and seeing the body as it truly is, our samādhi will gain stability and be kept smooth and even. Without having to do or control anything our meditation moves along smoothly by itself. The mind remains in the state of upacāra samādhi. This is the result of the continuous development of our practice, investigating until we understand and see clearly intJo the Dhamma, until there are no more doubts. This samādhi is firm within us. We don’t need to try and control it or be overly cautious. It’s at a good level, but  not quite to the full extent.

We  have  to  keep proceeding  down the Noble Eightfold Path. We  have to keep investigating, investigating just like we have been, practicing like we have been. Step by step, it will take the strength of the mind to a new level.

~ Luang Por Anan Akiñcano

Excerpt from
"The Path of the Sotāpanna"

Link:
http://www.watmarpjan.org

SAÑÑĀ -VIPASSANĀ OR PAÑÑĀ -VIPASSANĀ ? ​MEMORY-INSIGHT OR WISDOM-INSIGHT?

Sometimes paññā can arise through merely hearing or listening to the teachings. This understanding may penetrate clearly, even up to the point of seeing through all conventions and experiencing a glimpse of liberation. If we have enough paramī and strength of mind this understanding can arise.

But afterwards we still have to keep on with the practice, keep bringing the mind back to stillness
again. This we can’t let up on or stop.

We need to use the power of sati to keep the mind focusing on all the different forms of rūpa and nāma. If we force it too much though, it will give rise to stress and agitation. It will feel like our sati has been shattered and the mind won’t gather into peace. So we have to relax a little and come back to the present moment.

Sometimes we overestimate ourselves and think we have developed enough paññā and see clearly already. We think that nāma and rūpa are the way we understand it. But we are just looking at nāma and rūpa with vipassanā in the way someone else has explained it, so it’s really  only our saññā.  It’s  just  something we have memorised, “Nāma is like this, rūpa is like that.” Though we think that this is true vipassanā, it isn’t. Yet similar to a child, we have to learn like this first.

Later, when we have the steadiness and stillness of samādhi there, this is when clear paññā will arise, arising through bhāvanā. We will see the heart clearly for the first time.

Maybe we will experience either nāma or rūpa with an understanding that, “this isn’t really mine.” But this is only a small preliminary step; the power of samādhi is still weak. The insight arises in a flash and it penetrates only for a moment.

After that it’s like we have totally forgotten it. Because the power of our samādhi isn’t yet enough to really see clearly, insight and clarity won’t arise and the paññā arising from our vipassanā will  be hazy and clouded. 

This momentary clarity and insight we had is still a level of paññā, but it has only come about through our hearing the teachings and pondering over them. We take these teachings, investigate and contemplate them, and experience a level of understanding. In this manner paññā develops the mind which begins to gather in samādhi.

As we keep developing the power of our samādhi further, its strength will increase and our insight and understanding will arise anew. This is true paññā, paññā that comes from bhāvanā.

In the method of paññā developing samādhi, at the start we are still on the level of thinking, the activity of vitakka and vicāra. We first rely on this faculty of thinking and then from here it proceeds to break into different levels of samādhi.

If our paramī isn’t full, the clarity of understanding that we gained from our practice will deteriorate, and if we don’t hear the teachings it will disappear completely. But then when we hear them again the clarity arises again. This is paññā that is supported through hearing the teachings.

If we ponder and consider these teachings on the level of saññā, our clarity will increase and our minds will find a bit more stillness.

What is this kind of stillness? The stillness that is only here for a moment is called khanika samādhi. There is some clarity, but only temporarily. Its power cannot be sustained and it disappears. If we investigate anew, it will arise anew. Maybe in a day we investigate ten, twenty times and some clarity will arise briefly at those times. But this clarity can’t compete with the further levels because it only arises through the power of our thinking.

But if we practice in this same way, and our paramī is fuller, we will enter the level of upacāra samādhi. This samādhi is sustained for longer and its power is increased. From here we can enter into apannā samādhi where clarity is greatly increased. Sometimes we don’t even have to investigate a lot, maybe only once a day, but with the power of this samādhi there is energy to sustain the understanding for a long time.

If there isn’t this power there then we have to investigate often, contemplate a lot.  Through our  investigating, calm arises for a moment, but it will disappear.

Sometimes it happens that our mind gathers into the calm of upacāra samādhi while we are sitting, but when we open our eyes it instantly disappears. It’s like we never had any samādhi to begin with. This is normal.

This samādhi is still at the stage where it increases and diminishes. It isn’t firm and consistent. It doesn’t remain for long and various moods will often possess it. Though we are only doing a small amount of investigation, it is a good start as the mind has been carefully maintained up until this point. It has started to brighten and has found somewhat of a refuge.

~ Luang Por Anan Akiñcano

Excerpt from 

"The Path of the Sotāpanna"

Link:
http://www.watmarpjan.org/en/pdf/en-SOTA-LOW.pdf