Meditative concentration (samādhi) is indispensable for spiritual practitioners. Even among non-Buddhist practitioners in ancient India, meditative absorption was cultivated to remarkably high levels. These attainments were so profound that they shaped their ultimate views of the cosmos. For example, some non-Buddhist practitioners mistook the Long-lived Devas for the supreme and ultimate deities of the universe. This belief arose because, through deep meditative absorption, they developed certain supernormal perceptions and were able to perceive that these deities had already existed many eons ago and would continue to exist unchanged for countless eons to come.
On this basis, they concluded that these must be the most exalted and ultimate divine beings in the universe. Such views were not arrived at through philosophical speculation, but were discovered directly through meditative experience by many ancient practitioners. Although these views were mistaken and prevented them from realizing the ultimate truth of reality, the fact that they could attain such levels of meditative concentration is, in itself, far from easy.
In contrast, in our present age, most modern practitioners—not to mention attaining the profound meditative absorptions of the form realm and formless realm achieved by ancient practitioners—find it difficult even to cultivate relatively ordinary desire-realm concentration.
Why is this so?
To begin with, we must first “lay the blame” on the era in which we live—an era described in the Buddhist scriptures as the Age of the Five Degenerations (pañca-kaṣāya).
Degeneration of Time: In the present age, we gradually enter the waning cycle of an intermediate kalpa, as the human lifespan descends toward ten years. This period is marked by the prevalence of famine, epidemics, and warfare. All these calamities are abundantly evident today. In earlier times, this was not the case—this is known as the degeneration of time.
Degeneration of Views: In the present age, sentient beings largely undermine and even extinguish the authentic Dharma, and even establish numerous counterfeit Dharma. They delusively pursue distorted teachings and erroneous interpretations, mistakenly upholding them as the primacy. In earlier times, this was not the case—this is known as the degeneration of views.
Degeneration of Afflictions: In the present age, sentient beings habitually engage in perverse misdeeds and succumb to unwholesome states, such as inordinate craving, hatred and delusion, drifting far from the Dharma.They take up various types of weapons, engage in conflict, litigation and bitter rivalry, indulge in flattery, deceit, hypocrisy, and falsehood, and embrace wicked teachings. Countless unwholesome states are now plainly observable. In earlier times, this was not the case—this is known as the degeneration of afflictions.
Degeneration of Sentient Beings：In the present age, sentient beings often fail to honor their parents, spiritual practitioners, elders, or those worthy of respect. They largely disregard their benefactors who guide and accompany beings toward the welfare and happiness. They show no fear of wrongdoing in this life or the next, do not practice generosity, do not accumulate merit, do not observe fasting or pure precepts. In earlier times, this was not the case—this is known as the degeneration of sentient beings.
Degeneration of Lifespan：In the present age, the human lifespan is short and fleeing; even the longest-lived rarely exceed a hundred years. In earlier times, this was not the case—this is known as the degeneration of lifespan.
Over 2,500 years ago, the Buddha depicted our era with striking accuracy, painting a somber yet prophetic portrait of the world today. To be born in such an age is indeed unfortunate. Countless dependent phenomena manifested by any one of these impurities may well become an obstacle to cultivating meditative concentration. Taken together, the causes preventing the successful development of samādhi are simply too numerous to fully enumerate.
However, among these factors, the one that most directly and conspicuously affects our body and mind is the collective mentality of mankind in this age. This is an era defined by the “degeneration of views”, a term signifying that human thought is riddled with contradiction—lacking both coherence and correctness. What appears on the surface as a vibrant blossoming of ideas is, in reality a state of chaotic conflict.
For this reason, this era is also known as the “Age of Contention”. Simply put, contention means incessant discord. Look at our media: is there a single day without strife? It is individual against individual, group against group, and nation against nation. When these disputes reach their zenith, they erupt into violence, recurring in endless cycles without respite.
When this condition is reflected in the inner state of each individual practitioner, we find it filled with countless internal divisions and oppositions. A constant clash of conflicting information and knowledge tears at the mind, stripping it of original clarity and purity. As a result, we lose the ability to see the world clearly, to know how to relate to ourselves and other beings, or to make sound choices regarding our body and mind. Our core values become blurred, our minds chaotic, our thoughts excessive yet futile. When such inner turmoil ravages the mind over long periods, achieving meditative concentration becomes impossible—let alone developing supernormal abilities.
Even among Buddhist practitioners, whose core values may be relatively stable, few practice communities can entirely escape the imprint of this age. Laxity in conduct, verbal disputes, and pointless conflicts often become major obstacles to the cultivation of samādhi.
At its core, meditative concentration depends upon mental focus and inner tranquility. This requires reducing meaningless or heedless conduct, verbal arguments, and unnecessary conflict. For example, one should limit mindless scrolling of short-form videos, and avoid entanglement in interpersonal disputes. One should also refrain from clinging to judgments of right and wrong, or who is better or worse. If the mind remains immersed in such concerns throughout the day, it will inevitably fluctuate amid pleasure, pain, anxiety, and sorrow. Emotions become uncontrollable, thoughts scatter and race.
Under such conditions, not only is meditative concentration unattainable—even a calm and normal life becomes difficult to maintain. Granted, verbal disputes, moral judgments of right and wrong, and the constant weighing of gain and loss may sometimes bring a brief cathartic release or momentary satisfaction, yet from the perspective of liberation, they amount to nothing more than an exhausting and ultimately futile drain on one’s spiritual energy.
Therefore, as practitioners, we must constantly remain vigilant and avoid allowing the mind to drift into heedlessness or become submerged in worldly affairs. Within practice communities especially, we must refrain from gathering simply to complain, gossip, or spread rumors. Such behavior not only obstructs meditative concentration, but may also generate harmful karma of speech that leads to lower rebirths. If this is the case, what is the point of calling oneself a practitioner at all?
A practitioner should devote substantial time and attention to practice itself. For many lay practitioners, simply making a living is already a struggle, requiring immense energy for work and daily life, leaving them with limited time for cultivation. Yet some still squander this precious time on trivial disputes within practice communities—arguing, blaming one another. In the end, regardless of who is right or wrong, such conflicts are entirely illusory and run directly counter to the focus and serenity required for samādhi.
To cultivate meditative concentration successfully, one must distance oneself from attachment to judgments of right and wrong. Beneath such judgments lie desire and emotion—both of which belong to the desire realm. Without leaving these behind, it is impossible to attain even the first meditative absorption (the first dhyāna). When a practitioner stabilizes this state, they will discover that the mind is largely impervious to discursive thoughts, desire, and emotional turbulence.
When a practitioner’s attention remains entangled in mundane affairs for extended periods, vast amounts of time and mental energy are consumed, making the development of concentration impossible. Without concentration, neither the clarity of the perceiving mind nor the clarity of perceived objects can arise. When the stable clarity of both lacks, the capacity for calm and lucid observation cannot be cultivated—let alone the dissolution of afflictions and karmic obscurations.
However, for those with true mastery over emptiness, realization dissolves afflictions and karmic obstacles at their root rather than merely suppressing them through concentration. This is particularly evident for Dzogchen practitioners, who are able to recognize the nature of afflictions the moment they arise, thereby allowing them to self-liberate instantly without the need for any deliberate antidotes. Even if one has not yet attained the realization of Dzogchen through which afflictions dissolve, a strong realization of one-sided emptiness can still cause afflictions and subsequent tendencies to vanish instantly.
The methods mentioned above belong to relatively advanced stages of practice, which we will set aside for now. Even when speaking solely of meditative concentration, stable samādhi naturally stabilizes the mind and prevents emotional upheaval, thereby sparing practitioners from the torment of many afflictions. Achieving even this much is already rare and commendable. But if one refuses to devote time to cultivating samādhi, choosing instead to remain entangled in the rights and wrongs of others, circling endlessly within a web of discursive thoughts and emotions, this undoubtedly constitutes a grave waste of the precious human life endowed with freedom and opportunity to pursue liberation.
Mutual complaints and accusations, or collective venting and even verbal abuse among practitioners, all arise from the mental factor of anger. The saying “a single moment of anger can destroy the merit of a thousand eons” is well known, yet when anger arises, it is often forgotten. In its wake, the merit accumulated through long and arduous practice may be incinerated in an instant, leaving nothing but bitter fruit for one's painstaking efforts. Why endure such loss? As Stephen Chow’s famous cinematic line remind us: “Why bother? Better to sit down, have some tea, and eat a bun.”
Many practitioners fail to make progress precisely because they become unconsciously embroiled in discord. They believe they are standing on the side of justice, occupying the moral high ground, yet from the perspective of genuine practice, such views are utterly meaningless. When we invest our mental energy in such matters, they contributes nothing whatsoever to liberation. Even if one were able to defeat others, overpower opponents, or even completely annihilate one’s adversaries—what would that ultimately accomplish?
As Mahāyāna followers, should we not feel a sense of shame? Blaming others, or even worse, causing them harm, can never facilitate realization. On the contrary, it only makes the path of practice more difficult and obstructed.Indeed, this is one of the most significant underlying causes why meditative concentration remains so elusive.
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
