The purpose of Geshe la’s teaching today was to introduce us to the fundamentals of meditation 
within his own tradition of practice. The five aggregates retain a constant presence in his talks because they form the building blocks of what Westerners recognize mistakenly as the unitary personality. We have learned, of course, that in reality these aggregates form yet another sequence of causes and consequences, and should not be viewed as a permanent, unchanging entity. It is well worth our time to become familiar with the five aggregates before we proceed because they represent the fundamental building blocks of Buddhist psychology. So it’s a good idea for us to spend some time studying them. They are to the whole project of Buddhist thought what addition and subtraction are to algebra—its essential and primary foundation.
Geshe la also spoke of our five senses. Unique to Buddhism is the idea that each of our senses generates its own “consciousness,” so that we have a taste consciousness, a touch consciousness, and onward through the remaining three. Each of these consciousnesses is capable of forming powerful attachments which, as Geshe la pointed out, makes sexual activity so central to human life, for better or for worse—it powerfully engages all of these senses.
This has a particular relevance to many forms of Tibetan meditation because the popular conception of much Tibetan practice emphasizes its rich tapestry of deities in all shapes, sizes, colors, and aspects. And we often read that these deities are visualized, generated, and dissolved with spectacular effect by accomplished meditators. But Geshe la’s point was that even if we are capable of visually “imagining”
these deities in great detail, we run the risk of becoming as attached to these visualizations, their colors, their shapes, their figures, as we are to the physical world itself and to our own conceptions of it.
Fortunately, there is a much simpler way to gain meditative stabilization and that involves counting the breaths. We begin by counting up or down from ten and then reversing the sequence. Our goal is gradually to quiet the mind’s internal chatter; our strategy is to focus the mind on something inconsequential so that its only distraction (counting) is at least a willed and controllable distraction, and because it provides such a simple and uncomplicated object of our attention that it doesn’t have as much potential to suggest other diversions that might lead us astray. We could, for example, focus on our checkbooks, but that has enormous potential to lead us from our appointed task. So we avoid our checkbooks, and we count our breaths—it is a method of meditation that the Buddha himself recommended, and it is common to every major school of Buddhism on the planet. The method has been road-tested for thousands of years, and it works. We should take confidence from that as we begin our own tests.
Gradually, as we become more proficient at counting our breaths, we will find that we no longer need to count them individually. Instead, we will begin simply to observe them without enumeration, without judgment, and without engagement. We will then begin to familiarize ourselves with the mind’s native clarity as it reveals itself to us in an environment that’s increasingly free of our mental static. 
(Remember the Tibetan word for meditation is “gom,” or “to become familiar with.”) As we stabilize ourselves, we will see three qualities arising: mindfulness, alertness, cautiousness, the three qualities that Geshe la speaks of continually as the necessary tools that we must have for successful meditation, and the three qualities that the mind naturally possesses to safeguard its indigenous tranquility. But these are three qualities that are obscured by the daily distractions of our lives, and although they are never entirely lost, they must be recovered through active meditation if they are to be restored to their primary place in our consciousness and if they are to prosper, allowing us to develop our native sense of peace and tranquility.
Finally, meditation in the Tibetan scheme is essentially a two-part curriculum, and Geshe la is introducing us to the first part, which is often called “placement meditation,” or “calm abiding.” The purpose of this particular practice is to reveal the mind’s natural luminosity and stillness to us, and to give us access to its powerfully transformational energy—once familiar with it, and once able to tap its immense resources, we are ready for the second part of the program, which is called “analytical meditation” or “vipassana” meditation. During this stage, we begin the meditations that will familiarize us intuitively (remember, again, “gom”) with the fundamental concepts of Buddhist practice, from generosity to emptiness. The goal at this stage is to replace our flawed habits of perception and understanding, those which are the source of our suffering, with our renovated and remodeled perceptions. But this is a process that can only be successful if it arises from a calmly abiding mind, the establishment of which is our current project.
Finally, Geshe la closed with an idea that is central to Buddhist practice, but alien to most Western spiritual practice, particularly those associated with Christianity and monotheism. Geshe la told us that, finally, all of these insights, all of these practices, must be won and accomplished on our own. One of the last things the Buddha is reputed to have said as he was passing to Paranirvana is that we must all work out our salvation for ourselves. We can hear the teachings, and we can read the books,
but having done these things, if we have still failed to escape our suffering, then an afterlife free of suffering simply isn’t envisioned. In its Christian sense, grace is unknown to Buddhism. The ultimate authority for our salvation, then, shifts from a solitary, transcendent, and judging deity that we have traditionally called God squarely to the shoulders of the individual, in all his suffering, in all her glory. Each of us is responsible for our liberation. It is at once immensely daunting—How can I accomplish this prodigious task of Enlightenment?—and immediately liberating—I no longer have to rely on the whims of another’s judgment, but can entrust this extraordinary project to the only person I’d really trust with such an important task: myself.
As we become more and more comfortable with this sense of agency and responsibility, we begin to experience the power of transformation that this agency and responsibility bring with them. We will find this, at times, frightening, but at times freeing, and the hope is, of course, that the latter gradually and finally outweighs the former.
Sidney Burris, Tibetan Cultural Institute of Arkansas
