Joseph Goldstein Mindfulness Quotes

Every time we become aware of a thought, as opposed to being lost in a thought, we experience that opening of the mind.

Whatever has the nature to arise has the nature to cease.

Guilt is a manifestation of condemnation or aversion towards oneself, which does not understand the changing transformative quality of mind. 'Seeking the Heart of Wisdom

The greatest communication is usually how we are rather than what we say.

The commitment to morality, or non-harming, is a source of tremendous strength, because it helps free the mind from the remorse of having done unwholesome actions. Freedom from remorse leads to happiness. Happiness leads to concentration. Concentration brings wisdom. And wisdom is the source of peace and freedom in our lives.

We can then see for ourselves the obvious truth that when we cling or hold on to that which changes, we suffer.

The wonderful paradox about the truth of suffering is that the more we open to it and understand it, the lighter and freer our mind becomes. Our mind becomes more spacious, more open, and happier as we move past our avoidance and denial to see what is true. We become less driven by compulsive desires and addictions, because we see clearly the nature of things as they are.

What you are looking for is what is looking.

Without the steadiness of concentration, it is easy to get caught up in the feelings, perceptions, and thoughts as they arise. We take them to be self and get carried away by trains of association and reactivity.

One of the great misconceptions we often carry throughout our lives is that our perceptions of ourselves and the world are basically accurate and true, that they reflect some stable, ultimate reality. This misconception leads to tremendous suffering, both globally and in our personal life situations.

Love, compassion, and peace do not belong to any religion or tradition. They are qualities in each one of us, qualities of our hearts and minds..

Hatred never ceases by hatred; it only ceases by love.

one of the most radical, far-reaching, and challenging statements of the Buddha is his statement that as long as there is attachment to the pleasant and aversion to the unpleasant, liberation is impossible.

Imagine holding on to a hot burning coal. You would not fear letting go of it. In fact, once you noticed that you were holding on, you would probably drop it quickly. But we often do not recognize how we hold on to suffering. It seems to hold on to us. This is our practice: becoming aware of how suffering arises in our mind and of how we become identified with it, and learning to let it go. We learn through simple and direct observation, seeing the process over and over again until we understand.

In Buddhist psychology “conceit” has a special meaning: that activity of the mind that compares itself with others. When we think about ourselves as better than, equal to, or worse than someone else, we are giving expression to conceit. This comparing mind is called conceit because all forms of it—whether it is “I’m better than” or “I’m worse than,” or “I’m just the same as”—come from the hallucination that there is a self; they all refer back to a feeling of self, of “I am.

Aspirations inspire us, while expectations simply lead us into cycles of hope and fear: hope that what we want will happen; fear that it won’t.

Finally, my mind just settled into the realization that accidents happen, and a mantra suddenly appeared in my mind, one that has served me well since: anything can happen anytime.

All things arise when the appropriate conditions are present, and all things pass away as conditions change. Behind the process, there is no “self” who is running the show.

Why be unhappy about something if it can be remedied? And what is the use of being unhappy about something if it cannot be remedied?

whatever we frequently think of and ponder, that will become the inclination of our minds.

If you want to understand your mind, sit down and observe it.

Our mind becomes more spacious, more open, and happier as we move past our avoidance and denial to see what is true.

Most people believe that we are the thoughts that come through our mind. I hope not, because if we are, we are in big trouble! Those thoughts coming through have clearly been conditioned by something: by different events in our childhood, our environment, our past lives, or even some occurrence that has happened two minutes before.

Mindfulness, the Root of Happiness

Distortion of view takes place when we hold so deeply to our viewpoint that not even known facts can sway our beliefs.

Consciousness is not a thing that exists, but an event that occurs.

This attachment to the body also deeply conditions our fear of death. The more we cling, the harder it is to let go.

Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche, a great Dzogchen master of the last century, taught, “There is one thing we always need, and that is the watchman named mindfulness, the guard who is on the lookout for when we get carried away in mindlessness.

When we see deeply that all that is subject to arising is also subject to cessation, that whatever arises will also pass away, the mind becomes disenchanted. Becoming disenchanted, one becomes dispassionate. And through dispassion, the mind is liberated.

It’s always helpful to have a sense of humor about one’s own mental foibles. By

All beings are the heirs of their own karma. Their happiness or unhappiness depends on their actions, not upon my wishes.

If you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything.

Where is the end of seeing, of hearing, of thinking, of knowing?

that the value of an action is measured not by its success or failure, but by the motivation behind it.

Because these moods and mind states are so amorphous and generalized, we often sink into them and become identified with them, and they become the unconscious filter on experience. At these times, we’re looking at the world through colored glasses.

The emphasis in meditation is very much on undistracted awareness: not thinking about things, not analyzing, not getting lost in the story, but just seeing the nature of what is happening in the mind. Careful, accurate observation of the moment’s reality is the key to the whole process.

We establish some stability and focus in our mind and see which elements in it lead to greater peace, which to greater suffering. All of it—both the peace and the suffering—happens lawfully. Freedom lies in the wisdom to choose.

Covetousness keeps the mind agitated and unhappy, far from the peace of contentment.

On a boat in the middle of a great storm, one wise, calm person can bring everyone to safety. The

It is the truth that liberates, not your efforts to be free.

As a solid mass of rock Is not moved by the wind, So a sage is not moved by praise and blame.

let the breath draw the mind down to its own level of subtlety. It is like listening to someone playing a flute as they walk off into the distance.

The mind does not belong to you, but you are responsible for it.

I have no parents I make the heavens and earth my parents I have no home I make awareness my home I have no life or death I make the tides of breathing my life and death I have no divine power I make honesty my divine power I have no friends I make my mind my friend I have no enemy I make carelessness my enemy I have no armor I make benevolence my armor I have no castle I make immovable-mind my castle I have no sword I make absence of self my sword.

When we have too much faith, we can become dogmatic, attached to our own views. And we can see all too often how this blind belief leads to so much conflict and suffering in the world.

We can also strengthen the quality of ardor by reflecting on the transiency of all phenomena. Look at all the things we become attached to, whether they are people or possessions or feelings or conditions of the body. Nothing we have, no one in our lives, no state of mind is exempt from change. Nothing at all can prevent the universal process of birth, growth, decay, and death.

Having been through both of those other stages, our mind matures to a place where it is no longer moved: it does not grasp at pleasant things; it is not repelled by unpleasant things. Our mind attains deep, deep balance, like a calm, deep-flowing river. Out of this mature place of equanimity, the conditions arise that open our mind suddenly to the unconditioned, to what is beyond body and mind, to freedom.

In the second training, we develop energy, concentration, and mindfulness. These are the meditative and life tools that enable us to awaken. Without them we simply act out the patterns of our conditioning.

The meditative journey is not about always feeling good. Many times we may feel terrible. That’s fine. What we want is to open to the entire range of what this mind and body are about. Sometimes we feel wonderful and happy and inspired, and at other times we deeply feel different aspects of suffering.

by the meditation teacher Joseph Goldstein: whenever a generous impulse arises in your mind—to give money, check in on a friend, send an email praising someone’s work—act on the impulse right away, rather than putting it off until later. When we fail to act on such urges, it’s rarely out of mean-spiritedness, or because we have second thoughts about whether the prospective recipient deserves it. More often, it’s because of some attitude stemming from our efforts to feel in control of our time. We tell ourselves we’ll turn to it when our urgent work is out of the way, or when we have enough spare time to do it really well; or that we ought first to spend a bit longer researching the best recipients for our charitable donations before making any, et cetera.

An interviewer once asked Mother Teresa what she says to God when she prays. “I don’t say anything,” she replied. “I just listen.” Then the interviewer asked her what God says to her. “He doesn’t say anything,” said Mother Teresa. “He just listens. And if you don’t understand that, I can’t explain it to you.

Receiving joy is another way to say enjoyment, and samādhi is the act of refined enjoyment. It is based in skillfulness. It is the careful collecting of oneself into the joy of the present moment. Joyfulness means there’s no fear, no tension, no “ought to.” There isn’t anything we have to do about it. It’s just this.1

Do no harm, act for the good, purify the mind.” The flowering of all the great traditions of Buddhism derives from the teachings in this one simple verse.

There are ten actions—three of body, four of speech, and three of mind—that plant the seeds of our own future suffering.

this quintessential Zen statement: “There is no right and no wrong, but right is right and wrong is wrong.

Mind is the forerunner of all things. Speak or act with peaceful mind, happiness follows like a shadow that never leaves.4

If I were to say, ‘God, why me?’ about the bad things, then I should have said, ‘God, why me?’ about the good things that happened in my life.

the only things that can be said to truly belong to us are our actions and their results;

the results of our actions follow us like a shadow, or, to use an ancient image, like the wheel of the oxcart following the foot of the ox.

When the momentum of mindfulness is well developed, it works like a boomerang; even if we want to distract ourselves, the mind naturally rebounds to a state of awareness.

No deed is good that one regrets having done.

We see that each experience is simply just what it is, and that the “I” and “mine” are extra.

Awareness of motivation plays a central role in the path of liberation.

If we’re more accepting, more peaceful, less judgmental, less selfish, then the whole world is that much more loving and peaceful, that much less judgmental and selfish.

The world is like that boat, tossed by the storms of greed and hatred and fear.

the value of an action is measured not by its success or failure, but by the motivation behind it.

Whatever has the nature to arise will also pass away.

Through mindful attention in the moment, we see the impermanent nature of phenomena and understand the happiness of nongrasping.

Some people think the longer you can sit, the wiser you must be. I have seen chickens sitting on their nests for days on end. Wisdom comes from being mindful at all times.”3

To carry yourself forward and experience myriad things is delusion. That myriad thing come forth and experience themselves is awakening.

How does feeling our breath or taking a mindful step help anyone else? It happens in several ways. The more we understand our own minds, the more we understand everyone else. We increasingly feel the commonality of our human condition, of what creates suffering and how we can be free. Our practice also benefits others through the transformation of how we are in the world. If we’re more accepting, more peaceful, less judgmental, less selfish, then the whole world is that much more loving and peaceful, that much less judgmental and selfish.

Being contacted by painful feeling one seeks delight in sensual pleasure. For what reason? Because the uninstructed worldling does not know of any escape from painful feeling other than sensual pleasure...

Being contacted by painful feeling one seeks delight in sensual pleasure. For what reason? Because the uninstructed worldling does not know of any escape from painful feeling other than sensual pleasure . . .

On meditation Real Happiness, Sharon Salzberg Insight Meditation, Joseph Goldstein On Buddhism and mindfulness in general Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart, Dr. Mark Epstein Buddhism Without Beliefs, Stephen Batchelor

I was once at an event where my friend and meditation teacher Joseph Goldstein was asked if he believed we have free will. He answered the question with arresting clarity when he said that he couldn’t even figure out what the term could possibly mean. What does it mean to have a will that is free from the cause-and-effect relationships of the universe? As he gestured with his hands dancing above him in the air, trying to point to this imaginary free will, he asked, “How can we even try to picture such a will floating about?

Spiritual ardency is the wellspring of a courageous heart. It gives us the strength to continue through all the difficulties of the journey. The question for us is how to practice and cultivate ardency, so that it becomes a powerful and onward-leading force in our lives.

Mindfulness practice begins to open up everything. We open our mind to memories, to emotions, to different sensations in the body. In meditation this happens in a very organic way, because we are not searching, we are not pulling or probing, we are just sitting and watching.

But in their deeper meaning, these refuges always point back to our own actions and mind states. Although there may be many false starts and dead ends as we begin our journey, if our interest is sincere, we soon make a life-changing discovery: what we are seeking is within us.

The great discovery in our practice is that, on one level, birth and death, existence and nonexistence, self and other are the great defining themes of our lives. And on another level, it’s all just a dance of insubstantial appearances, what the Buddha called “the magic show of consciousness.

As we walk the way of awareness, we see that the deepest purpose we all have is to perfect the qualities of our heart and mind. The spiritual path transforms our consciousness, purifying it of greed, hatred, ignorance, fear, envy, jealousy—those forces that create suffering in us and in the world.

One thing you need to remember and understand is that you cannot leave the mind alone. It needs to be watched constantly. If you do not look after your garden it will overgrow with weeds. If you do not watch your mind, defilements will grow and multiply. The mind does not belong to you, but you are responsible for it.

Whatever is born will die; Whatever is joined will come apart; Whatever is gathered will disperse; Whatever is high will fall. Having considered this, I resolve not to be attached To these lush meadows, Even now, in the full glory of my display, Even as my petals unfold in splendor . . . You too, while strong and fit, Should abandon your clinging. . . . Seek the pure field of freedom, The great serenity.3

Meditation begins with calming the mind and collecting the attention. The importance of this is revealed at the very beginning of our practice—it is often the first insight we gain when we begin to practice meditation. We see for ourselves how difficult the mind is to control. The mind is so slippery. We feel a breath or two, and then the mind wanders. We become seduced or distracted by thoughts, plans, and memories—sometimes not even pleasant ones. We often relive old arguments or hurts. We hop on a train of association not knowing that we’ve hopped on and having no idea where the train is going. Somewhere down the line we wake up from the dream of our thoughts, often in a completely different mental environment. Perhaps we have become entangled in some drama, some strong emotion, contracted in a strong sense of self, of ego. And all the time it is just the play of our minds.

Ask yourself how many of the billions of inhabitants of this planet have any idea of how rare it is to have been born as a human being. How many of those who understand the rarity of human birth ever think of using that chance to practice the Dharma? How many of those who think of practice actually do? How many of those who start continue? . . . But once you see the unique opportunity that human life can bring, you will definitely direct all your energy into reaping its true worth by putting the Dharma into practice.

So we begin with a very simple object of attention, like the breath, and train ourselves to return to it even as we get distracted over and over again. This first insight into the habit of distraction leads us to understand the value and importance of steadying our attention, because the worlds we create in ourselves and around us all have their origins in our own minds. How many different mind-worlds do we inhabit in our thoughts, even between one breath and the next? And how many actions do we take because of these unnoticed thoughts? By first taking a particular object of concentration and then training the mind to stay focused on it, we can develop calmness and tranquillity. The object may be the breath, a sound or mantra, a visual image, or certain reflections, all of which serve to concentrate the mind. At first, this requires the effort of continually returning each time the mind wanders off. With practice, though, the mind becomes trained, and then rests quite easily in the chosen object. In addition to the feelings of restfulness and peace, the state of concentration also becomes the basis for deepening insight and wisdom. We find ourselves opening to the world’s suffering as well as to its great beauty. Through the power of increased awareness, simple experience often becomes magically alive: the silhouette of a branch against the night sky or trees swaying in the invisible wind. The way that we sense the world becomes purified, our perception of the world transformed. Marcel Proust wrote, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes but in having new eyes.

I had a powerful personal experience of this truth. A few weeks before the end of my Peace Corps time in Thailand, I was sitting quietly in a friend’s garden listening to him read from a Tibetan text called, in that early translation, The Tibetan Book of the Great Liberation. My mind had become quite concentrated and at one point, when the text was speaking of the “unborn nature of the mind,” there was a sudden and spontaneous experience of the mind opening … to zero. This momentary opening to the “unmanifest,” a reality beyond the ordinary mind and body, had the force of a lightning bolt shattering the solidified illusion of self. Immediately following this, a phrase kept repeating in my mind, “There’s no me, there’s no me.” This experience radically changed my understanding of things. Of course, since then, feelings or thoughts of “me,” of a sense of self, have arisen many times, but, still, the deep knowing remains that even the sense of self is selfless—that it’s just another thought.

Liberating insight arises both from a deep and clear observation of impermanence on momentary levels and from a wise consideration of what we already know. As a way of practicing this observation, the next time you take a walk, pay attention to the movements of your body and to things you see and hear and think. Notice what happens to all these experiences as you continue on your way. What happens to them? Where are they? When we look, we see everything continually disappearing and new things arising—not only each day or each hour, but in every moment. The truth of this is so ordinary that we have mostly stopped paying attention to it. By not paying attention, we miss the every-day, every-moment opportunity to see directly, and deeply, the changing nature of our lives. We miss the opportunity to practice the “letting-go mind.” “If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace. If you let go completely, you will have complete peace. Your struggles with the world will have come to an end.” In addition to noticing the moment-to-moment nature of change, careful reflections on three obvious and universal aspects of impermanence can also jolt us out of the complacency of our deeply rooted habits and patterns.

For a long time in my meditation practice I felt embarrassed and ashamed when I saw unwholesome states in my own mind, states like pride or jealousy, ill will or selfishness; and instead of examining them and working free of them, I would judge myself and dig the hole I was in even deeper.

Defects of Samsara The fourth reflection that turns our minds toward the Dharma is the reflection on the defects of samsara. Samsara is a Pali and Sanskrit word that means “perpetual wandering,” or the wandering through the endless cycles of existence.

We see this same process at work within this life as well. For one day, notice how many different worlds you create in your mind, riding the roller coaster of continually changing moods, emotions, and thoughts. You become happy when you think about your family, frustrated at work, excited about some future plans, angry at someone who’s being difficult, depressed about the state of the world, calm from your meditation … The play of the mind goes on and on. Samsara: perpetual wandering through the rounds of existence.

THESE FOUR MIND-CHANGING REFLECTIONS—OUR PREcious human birth, impermanence, the law of karma, and the defects of samsaric conditioning—turn our lives toward the Dharma, toward discovering the nature of our minds. These reflections begin to break apart the clouds of confusion and help us see the truth of our lives more clearly, help us let go more completely. Without them we are carried along on the powerful current of habitual action; with them, we enter into a timeless stream of awareness.

HAVING DEVELOPED SOME CONFIDENCE AND FAITH IN THE possibility of awakening, we are now faced with a very pragmatic question, “What do I do?” The Buddha responded to this question with incisive and disarming simplicity: “Do no harm, act for the good, purify the mind. This is the teaching of all the Buddhas.

Actions of the Mind The last three unskillful actions the Buddha pointed out are actions of mind. These are subtler than actions of body or speech and take keen investigation to explore and understand. The first of them is covetousness, the wanting mind, the feeling that we never have enough.

The next of the unwholesome actions of mind is ill will, with its many attendant variations: anger, hatred, impatience, and sorrow—all forms of aversion. We can notice the feelings of contraction and hardening of the heart when we get lost in or identified with mind states of ill will. These states of aversion arise when we don’t get what we want, or when we do get what we don’t want. They may come in response to present unpleasantness, such as pain, certain distressing emotions, or difficult life situations. Ill will of one kind or another can also arise when we remember certain past events or anticipate future ones.

The Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa, expressed it well: Live, you say, in the present; Live only in the present. But I don’t want the present. I want reality; . . . I only want reality, things without time present.3 And the Buddha

meditate upon thoughts is simply to be aware, as thoughts arise, that the mind is thinking, without getting involved in the content: not going off on a train of association, not analyzing the thought and why it came, but merely to be aware that at the particular moment “thinking” is happening

There are many things in our mind and body, tensions of all kinds, unpleasantness, things we don’t like to look at, things about which we’re untruthful with ourselves. Truthfulness in speech becomes the basis for being honest in our own minds, and that is when things begin to open up.

When the mind is silent, relaxed and attentive, pain is experienced not as a solid mass but as a flow, arising and vanishing moment to moment.

Perhaps at some time you have sat quietly by the side of an ocean or river. At first there is one big rush of sound. But in sitting quietly, doing nothing but listening, we begin to hear a multitude of fine and subtle sounds, the waves hitting against the shore, or the rushing current of the river. In that peacefulness and silence of mind we experience very deeply what is happening. It is just the same when we listen to ourselves; at first all we can hear is one “self’ or “I.” But slowly this self is revealed as a mass of changing elements, thoughts, feelings, emotions, and images, all illuminated simply by listening, by paying attention.

lives. As we’re about to act, or when thoughts or emotions are predominant, do we remember to investigate and reflect on our motivation? Do we ask ourselves, “Is this act or mind state skillful or unskillful? Is this something to cultivate or abandon? Where is this motivation leading? Do I want to go there?