Pañca nīvaraṇāni: Five Hindrances

Introduction

When we enter retreat or simply sit down to meditate, one could say that a war begins. Let us examine: what kind of war is this and who our enemies are; let us become acquainted with them.

Previously, we only knew that something was wrong, that something didn’t feel right. That’s why you are here. If everything had been fine for you — if everything had been good — you wouldn’t have come here; you simply wouldn’t have needed this. So something was indeed amiss. And that is why we are here, which is why we have begun this war.

The theme of today’s sermon is pañca nīvaraṇāni — the five hindrances. These five hindrances prevent us from developing our mind, prevent us from being happy, prevent us from seeing reality, and prevent us from attaining Nibbāna.

Nīvaraṇa is something that closes off. Pañca nīvaraṇāni are the five hindrances that close reality off from us. One could say that these five hindrances are our enemies. But we don’t all perceive these hindrances as our enemies: we take them for our friends, for our helpers, and therein lies the problem. First and foremost, we must realize that they are not our friends — they obstruct us. Today’s Dhamma-desana is devoted to this.

Kāmacchanda

The first hindrance is kāmacchanda nīvaraṇa: the thirst for sensual pleasures.

«Kāma» is what we want to see, what we want to hear, what we want to smell, what we want to taste (experience flavor), what we want to touch (sense tactile objects). All of this is called «kāma» in Pali. All of these attract us.

When we see something beautiful, we want to see it again; when we taste something delicious, we want to taste it again, and so on. In kāma there is this quality — it seems to pull us toward itself; it’s attractive to us. The same applies to sounds, smells, and tactile sensations.

Usually in English, the word “kāma” is translated as “sensual pleasures”: that which brings pleasure, an object of sensual enjoyment. These are all the pleasures we gain through our sense faculties. Kāmacchanda is the desire for sensual pleasures.

What are sensual desires, and how should we view them? We must see them as our enemy. Look: when you meditate, what hinders you? What prevents you from sitting still? Thoughts and memories. Often these are pleasant memories or pleasant plans for the future. It is actually very difficult to recognize what these really are.

Perhaps you think about how you will meditate every day from now on, or you feel the desire to build a temple in your town so that retreats can be held there. Thoughts and plans for the future continually arise in our minds. And there is always some craving for a pleasant feeling embedded in them.

Right now, as you sit, you may feel uncomfortable on your cushion. You think, “It would be good to have another cushion, one more comfortable.” “It would be nice to have tea or coffee now.” “It would be better if there were different retreat food — something more familiar, less spicy.” Thoughts continuously surface, desires constantly arise, and they prevent us from observing the object of mindfulness. We keep getting distracted by them, and we don’t know how to move beyond this.

Kāmacchanda nīvaraṇa is like a kind of hunger that can never be satisfied. Think about it: no matter how much we look, how much we hear, how much we touch, it’s still not enough. We want to see more, hear more, touch more.

How much do we lack this? Even during a 10-day retreat, we cannot step away from this and be calm. Not even for a single day can we completely detach from kāma desires. Not even for thirty minutes of meditation. Not even for one minute! Something is constantly being remembered, remembered, remembered, and plans keep arising in the mind, arising, arising. And we cannot be calm. We believe that this will bring us happiness. But in reality, it is not so: this is a hunger that cannot be satisfied.

If this first hindrance remains active in our mind, we will have no peace — neither now nor later. It is like a sickness. Everyone has this sickness. Think: has anyone ever died thinking, “I had enough of everything; I saw enough, heard enough, felt enough; I don’t need any more”? Everyone wants to see more, hear more, feel more. Everyone wants to continue experiencing. An unenlightened person never reaches satiation.

When you sit and meditate and notice your thoughts, if something pleasant arises in your mind — if you desire something pleasant — see it as your enemy. This is the first hindrance: kāmacchanda nīvaraṇa.

Brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by sensual lust, overwhelmed by sensual lust, and one does not understand as it really is the escape from arisen sensual lust, on that occasion one neither knows nor sees as it really is one’s own good, or the good of others, or the good of both. Then even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Suppose, brahmin, there is a bowl of water mixed with lac, turmeric, blue dye, or crimson dye. If a man with good sight were to examine his own facial reflection in it, he would neither know nor see it as it really is. So too, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by sensual lust … … on that occasion even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Saṅgāravasutta: Saṅgarava (SN 46.55),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Vyāpāda

The second hindrance: vyāpāda — ill will, aversion

Remember when I asked you what hinders you during meditation, you answered: mosquitoes, pain in the legs, pain in the back, uncomfortable cushions, certain sounds — so many unpleasant things.

But think: where are there no sounds? Can we find such a place? We are now far from the city—in the mountains. Rarely does a bus pass by on a distant road — there are no other human sounds here. Sometimes animals cry out, birds sing. Yet there are still sounds. There is no place without sounds. And even if there were no external sounds, our mind will “sound,” and we will hear it.

But in reality, sounds do not disturb us. Neither mosquitoes, nor monkeys, nor people, nor sounds disturb us. What hinders us is the arising desire in the mind for these things not to be. That ill will is what obstructs us. This is the second hindrance: vyāpāda — ill will, aversion.

But in reality, we do not see this ill will. We do not see reality; we do not see ill will exactly as it is — as ill will. Instead, we see some sound, or some animals, people, or events. But we do not see our own mind in which this ill will arises!

Ill will is a very subtle hindrance; it arises as very subtle thoughts. It is essential for us to learn to see the hindrances as they truly are: to see a hindrance as a hindrance.

To recognize ill will as ill will — not as problems in the world: not as bad people, bothersome animals, unpleasant weather, and so on. The real problem is not any of these external things; the real problem is pañca nīvaraṇāni in our own mind.

For example, we’re sitting and meditating. We feel that our leg hurts. It’s unpleasant. And whenever something is unpleasant, the mind immediately reacts with a desire for it to go away. Instantly, the mind starts thinking: “How much time is left?”, “Maybe I should change my posture,” “Is it time to move yet?” — and so on. A lot of unwholesome thoughts arise, and they disturb our peace; they obscure the calm. All of this is the second hindrance: vyāpāda nīvaraṇa — the hindrance of ill will.

In reality, pain is not an obstacle to meditation. It only seems to us that it’s getting in the way — but that’s not actually the case. There are stories in the Canon where monks took pain itself as the object of meditation, as the object of mindfulness — and through that, they attained arahantship: full awakening, final liberation.

There was a monk who was about to be killed by bandits. He asked them for one more day. The bandits were afraid he might run away during that time, so to prove he wouldn’t escape, he picked up a large rock and broke his own legs. Seeing that, they granted him the extra day. He meditated on the pain — pain became his object of mindfulness. And not only did he find peace — by sunrise, he had become an arahant! He had realized Nibbāna.

I broke the bones of both my legs
To give the pledge you asked from me.
I am revolted and ashamed
At death accompanied by greed.
“And after I had thought on this,
And wisely then applied insight,
When the sun rose and shone on me,
I had become an Arahant”

Majjhima Nikáya Atthakathá (Papañca-súdanì), 233,
translation by Ven. Nyanamoli Thera

We can understand that pain doesn’t actually get in our way. Pain, in reality, is just a sensation. A sensation arises due to contact — and there are countless sensations throughout the body. But we select a certain cluster of these sensations and say: these sensations — I don’t want them. Let them go away.

But pain and discomfort arise due to causes, and they won’t simply go away just because we want them to. So in truth, what disturbs us is not the pain itself, but the aversion to that pain and discomfort.

It is the ill will — the vyāpāda — that arises in the mind, that gets in the way. That is why the second enemy is ill will — vyāpāda.

There are several levels of ill will.

The first is aversion: we don’t want something; we want it to be gone; we dislike it. It could be a sound, a bodily sensation, a mental image, a smell, a person — anything we don’t want to be present. Even boredom is a subtle form of aversion — a low-level manifestation of it.

The second level is anger.

Let’s say yesterday someone left the door to the meditation hall open, and during the night a dog came in with her puppies. So in the morning, the place was very dirty. But just the day before, you had cleaned everything thoroughly and washed away all the mess. And now, every day dogs come in, and every time the hall is dirty again, it smells bad. What arises in the mind?

First of all — aversion: the thought that the dirt and bodily waste shouldn’t be here — that kind of thought may appear. But if this mental state continues — due to unwise reflection, due to attention directed in an unskillful way — then anger arises in the mind. It grows slowly, gradually, but it develops. “Who left the door open?” “Why are these dogs even living here?”

The third level is hatred.

The fourth level is revenge. We hold on to hatred in the mind and wait for the chance to punish someone someday. And revenge — it’s truly bad, it brings us great harm. It causes great suffering to ourselves. Sometimes people even say: “If I can’t punish you in this life, I’ll find you in the next lives to take revenge.” All of this is because of hatred! Because of hatred, people forget what immense suffering they themselves will have to experience. People completely forget this!

When there is anger in the mind — we see nothing. Anger hides everything from us! We forget who we are, we forget where we are, whom we’re speaking to, and who is around us. All of this is because of hatred, because of anger.

Imagine an angry dog that’s ready to attack, or a furious snake, or an enraged person — they are all the same! An angry snake makes a sound, a hissing, showing how angry it is — “I’m going to bite you now.”

An angry dog does the same. It barks, showing: “Don’t come closer, I’ll tear you apart.” And the same with an angry person — they show their anger, they show: “I’m going to hit you now,” or “I’m going to kill you.” When there is anger in the mind, it doesn’t matter who we are — humans or animals — we are all the same.

If someone had that level of anger — such a person wouldn’t be able to stay here even for a single day. They would definitely leave. And here, that level of ill will does not arise. What arises here is aversion, unpleasantness, a tiny-tiny anger. That also needs to be seen: filth is filth. A lot of filth or a little — it still stinks, dirt is still dirt. It needs to be removed, it needs to be cleaned. This is the second hindrance — vyāpāda, ill will.

Just as, mendicants, even a little bit of fecal matter still stinks, so too I don’t approve of even a little bit of continued existence, not even as long as a finger-snap.

AN 1.328, translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

You can observe yourself: what is it like when there is ill will in the mind? Is it pleasant or not? How does the body feel when there is ill will in the mind? Because if you look carefully, who suffers the most from ill will? It’s ourselves! We need to think about this very carefully, to study it closely, to look at ourselves. This way, little by little, we can train our mind. Showing it how much harm ill will causes to me and others, how good it feels when ill will fades away. We need to learn to see that this is our enemy.

In short, when we think about something pleasant, that is kāmacchanda — the craving for sensual pleasures; and when we think about something unpleasant, that is vyāpāda — ill will.

Again, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by ill will, overwhelmed by ill will, and one does not understand as it really is the escape from arisen ill will, on that occasion one neither knows nor sees as it really is one’s own good, or the good of others, or the good of both. Then even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Suppose, brahmin, there is a bowl of water being heated over a fire, bubbling and boiling. If a man with good sight were to examine his own facial reflection in it, he would neither know nor see it as it really is. So too, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by ill will … on that occasion even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Saṅgāravasutta: Saṅgarava (SN 46.55),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Thīna-middha

The third hindrance is thīna-middha: dullness and drowsiness, laziness and apathy — a state like that.

This is a very serious enemy. When thīna-middha takes hold of us, we don’t see it — because when it comes, the first thing it shuts down is our mindfulness, awareness. When thīna-middha comes, mindfulness disappears. And when we have no alertness, no awareness — we don’t know what is happening to us. We don’t know how we’re sitting, what our posture is, whether we’re asleep or not — we won’t notice anything. That’s why this enemy must be seen at the very beginning: while we still have alertness, while we still have awareness. When we feel: here comes thīna-middha, here comes drowsiness and laziness — we must immediately recognize it and immediately take action.

What should we do? We can change the meditation object — for example, switch to loving-kindness, or to recollection of death. Or we can practice walking meditation. We can wash our face with cold water. We can rub our ears strongly, or meditate with eyes open for a short time, or look at a bright light — all of this helps.

What’s good about group meditations? When thīna-middha comes to us, thoughts immediately arise: “I can’t sleep now, I can’t leave now.” And viriya — diligence — arises within us.

Also, if you’re truly tired — for example, you’ve been traveling, you were on a plane, you didn’t get enough sleep — then you simply need to rest, you need to sleep. The Buddha taught the Middle Way, and it’s important for us not to fall into extremes. We need to see ourselves clearly. If there is exhaustion, the wise decision is to rest and get enough sleep — and then meditate calmly after that, instead of torturing ourselves. It’s very important for us to learn not to strain ourselves. Not to give everything up — but also not to push ourselves too hard, not to strain ourselves.

Again, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by sloth and torpor, overwhelmed by sloth and torpor, and one does not understand as it really is the escape from arisen sloth and torpor, on that occasion one neither knows nor sees as it really is one’s own good, or the good of others, or the good of both. Then even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Suppose, brahmin, there is a bowl of water covered over with water plants and algae. If a man with good sight were to examine his own facial reflection in it, he would neither know nor see it as it really is. So too, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by sloth and torpor … on that occasion even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Saṅgāravasutta: Saṅgarava (SN 46.55),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Uddhacca-kukkucca

The fourth hindrance is uddhacca-kukkucca: restlessness (agitation) and worry, remorse, regret.

What is restlessness of the mind, how can we recognize it? When there is restlessness in the mind, we actually don’t know what we’re thinking about: one thing comes to mind, then another, then a third. “I want to walk, I want to sit, I want to stand…” We can’t do anything — the mind is not calm. The Buddha compares it to a fish on dry land: the mind can’t do anything and flails about uselessly.

Like a fish pulled from the sea
and cast upon the shore,
this mind flounders about,
trying to throw off Māra’s dominion.

Cittavagga: The Chapter about the Mind (Dhammapada 343),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

One of the causes of this is worry and regret — the mind is troubled. It worries about having done something wrong, said something wrong, forgotten something, or failed to do what should have been done. It is said that the main cause of this is breaking precepts. For example, if a person killed an animal — and they know that this is an unwholesome action — they will later regret it. And the same applies to the other precepts.

1. 1. the precept not to kill;

1. 1. the precept not to take what is not given voluntarily;

1. 1. the precept not to commit sexual misconduct;

1. 1. the precept not to lie;

1. 1. the precept not to consume alcohol and substances that cloud the mind.

Right now you have undertaken the precepts and are keeping them, but still some worries arise — regrets about past events. It might be regret about something you did or said in the past: a year ago, five years ago, twenty years ago, or even in childhood. It doesn’t matter when it was — these memories are disturbing you now.

What should we do about this? And what do you think — are such worries helpful or not?

How can you fix something you did a long time ago? You can notice it — but still, it comes up again and again. You can tell someone about it, confess to someone — but still, the worries will remain.

The problem is that we think: “I did this.” “How could I have done that?”, “How could I have said that?”, “How could I have forgotten that?”

“Why did I do that?”, “Why did I say that?”, “I shouldn’t have acted that way”, “I should have done it differently.”

“I could have avoided it”, “I could have remembered”, “I could have done something else.”

Such kinds of thoughts arise within us — constantly, repeatedly: “I…”, “I…”, “I…”.

We believe we can fix everything, that we can accomplish anything, achieve whatever we desire. But in truth, we cannot. When something happens — it doesn’t occur solely by my will. Countless other factors come into play. There are many, many other conditions involved, many other things influence it.

Let’s say you said something to someone, and then you found out that what you said was wrong. For example, you scolded someone, hurt a person, and then realized that you acted wrongly — that person was not like that at all. Why did you do that?

Primarily, it’s because of some wrong information: you had some unwholesome friends whom you trusted, and they gave you incorrect information, deceived you.

Secondly: why did you believe them? Why did you scold that person? You lacked wisdom! You didn’t know how to distinguish between wholesome and unwholesome people, whom to trust and whom not to trust. If you had wisdom, when such a person tells you some gossip, you would immediately understand that it’s not good, that the person simply lacks wisdom, and that’s why they speak like that. You wouldn’t believe them.

Then, why did we scold the other person? We lacked patience, we had anger, many unwholesome qualities were in the mind, and because of that, we acted that way. We had hindrances in the mind. If we had wisdom, patience, and kindness, we wouldn’t have acted like that. A great many causes influence us.

For example, I might ask you: «What brings you here?» You might answer: “I wanted to,” or “I’ve wanted to for a long time.” But in reality, if you look carefully — why did such a desire arise? — you will see that there’s no single cause. There are always many, many different causes. And because of all of them together, you are here now. This is how things truly happen. We don’t have full control over our mind, we don’t know how to work with the hindrances, how to see them clearly. Not everything depends on us.

When we truly discover how the world actually moves, how we actually live — that worry will go away. Why worry? Now we cannot fix any of it. Now we can only avoid repeating these mistakes. For that, we need hiri and ottappa — a sense of moral shame and fear of committing unwholesome deeds. These two qualities help us.

Mendicants, ignorance precedes the attainment of unskillful qualities, with lack of conscience and prudence following along. Knowledge precedes the attainment of skillful qualities, with conscience and prudence following along.

Vijjāsutta: Knowledge (Iti 40),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

If you’ve done something wrong, then it’s time to let it go — time to forgive yourself. First of all, we should treat ourselves with kindness. If a child did something wrong, what would we say to them? “All right, what’s done is done — it can’t be changed now, but you can choose not to do it again.” So why don’t we say the same thing to ourselves?

Remember the story of Aṅgulimāla. Despite having killed 999 people — following the orders of his first teacher — he was still able to attain enlightenment when he met the Buddha and became his disciple!

Then when it was morning, the venerable Aṅgulimāla dressed, and taking his bowl and outer robe, he went into Sāvatthi for alms. As he was wandering for alms from house to house in Sāvatthi, he saw a certain woman in travail with a deformed child. When he saw this, he thought: “What defilement beings suffer; indeed what defilement beings suffer!”

When he had wandered for alms in Sāvatthi and had returned from his alms-round after the meal, he went to the Blessed One, and after paying homage to him, he sat down at one side. When he had done so, he said: “Venerable sir, when it was morning I dressed and taking bowl and outer robe, I went into Sāvatthi for alms. As I was wandering for alms from house to house in Sāvatthi, I saw a certain woman in travail with a deformed child. When I saw that, I thought: ‘What defilement beings suffer; indeed what defilement beings suffer!’”

“In that case, Aṅgulimāla, go into Sāvatthi and say to that woman: ‘Sister, since I was born I have never purposely deprived a living being of life. By that truth may you and the infant have peace.’”

“Venerable sir, should I not be speaking falsehood in full awareness? For many living beings have been purposely deprived of life by me.”

“Then, Aṅgulimāla, go into Sāvatthi and say to that woman: ‘Sister, since I was born with the Noble Birth I have never purposely deprived a living being of life. By that truth may you and the infant have peace.’”

“Yes, venerable sir,” he replied, and went into Sāvatthi and told the woman: “Sister, since I was born with the Noble Birth I have never purposely deprived a living being of life. By this truth may you and the infant have peace.”

And the woman and the infant had peace.

Aṅgulimālasutta: Aṅgulimāla (MN 86),
translation by Ven. Nyanamoli Thera

We still use this gāthā to help women in childbirth: “Sister, since I was born with the Noble Birth I have never purposely deprived a living being of life. By that truth may you and the infant have peace.” Just think — more than 2,600 years have passed since then!

Aṅgulimāla was able to attain enlightenment despite all his unwholesome actions — and that is why this gāthā was true: from the moment of his Noble Birth, from the moment of his awakening, he never killed any living being. He became very gentle, very compassionate, and strictly kept all his precepts. It is said that he even always slept in the same posture — afraid that he might accidentally crush a small creature by turning over in his sleep. He had uprooted all defilements from his mind. No hindrances, no defilements can arise in the mind of an arahant. That was his new life — his second life.

But until the end of that life, his unwholesome kamma continued to bear fruit. He was beaten, insulted — people still saw him as a murderer. It is said that even when people threw stones at something else — for example, trying to knock mangoes from a tree — if Aṅgulimāla was nearby, every stone would ricochet and hit him. Until his final life was completed, the fruits of his kamma continued to ripen — and that’s why he faced all those difficulties.

In truth, we need to forgive ourselves and let go of the past — to begin a new life. Then these worries will fade, and the mind will become calm. When memories arise — we must let them go. It’s very important to understand that guilt is an unwholesome mental state — it is also the fourth hindrance: uddhacca-kukkucca. People think that guilt is something useful, something wholesome — but it is not.

What we really need is to stop doing unwholesome actions, to do wholesome actions, and to purify the mind. What helps us in this are hiri and ottappa — moral shame and fear of committing unwholesome deeds — not guilt and regret.

Remember, I told you that the worst level of vyāpāda is revenge?

Think about the people who lived in the same region as Aṅgulimāla. At first, they suffered because Aṅgulimāla — before he was enlightened — was killing people in that area, and no one could stop him Imagine the constant fear these people lived in, how many losses they endured. All the time, someone was being killed by Aṅgulimāla. And then, even after he had become an arahant, people were still beating him and insulting him.

Then Venerable Aṅgulimāla robed up in the morning and, taking his bowl and robe, entered Sāvatthī for alms. Now at that time someone threw a stone that hit Aṅgulimāla, someone else threw a stick, and someone else threw gravel. Then Aṅgulimāla — with cracked head, bleeding, his bowl broken, and his outer robe torn — went to the Buddha.

The Buddha saw him coming off in the distance, and said to him, “Endure it, brahmin! Endure it, brahmin! You’re experiencing in this very life the result of deeds that might have caused you to be tormented in hell for many years, many hundreds or thousands of years.”

Aṅgulimālasutta: Aṅgulimāla (MN 86),
translation by Ven. Nyanamoli Thera

We could say that the people took revenge on him. But look — how cruel saṁsāra is. Aṅgulimāla said to the woman in labor: “Sister, since I was born with the Noble Birth I have never purposely deprived a living being of life. By that truth may you and the infant have peace.” The power of this truth was so great that it helped both the woman and her baby. That is why enlightenment is called Noble Birth, the second birth. And yet — these people were taking revenge on an arahant. This is very unwholesome kamma — very heavy.

It is very dangerous for us to hold on to anger and thoughts of revenge in our mind. We do not see reality as it truly is. The person we hold resentment toward — maybe they have completely changed. Maybe they have long since repented, and now live a completely different life — we just don’t know it. In any case, hatred and ill-will will harm us first of all,

And that is why it’s essential to purify our mind from them. Revenge and hatred will not protect us; what will protect us are hirīottappa — shame and fear of committing unwholesome deeds. These qualities would have protected those people from this very heavy kamma.

Again, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by restlessness and remorse, overwhelmed by restlessness and remorse, and one does not understand as it really is the escape from arisen restlessness and remorse, on that occasion one neither knows nor sees as it really is one’s own good, or the good of others, or the good of both. Then even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Suppose, brahmin, there is a bowl of water stirred by the wind, rippling, swirling, churned into wavelets. If a man with good sight were to examine his own facial reflection in it, he would neither know nor see it as it really is. So too, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by restlessness and remorse … on that occasion even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Saṅgāravasutta: Saṅgarava (SN 46.55),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Vicikicchā

The fifth hindrance is vicikicchā — doubt, skepticism.

If a person doubts — they cannot practice peacefully. First and foremost, they must place their trust. Whom must they trust? The Buddha. First and foremost, they must trust the Buddha. Then, they must trust the Dhamma, the Buddha’s Teaching. And then — the Sangha, the disciples of the Buddha. What I am explaining to you — I did not discover this myself. This knowledge is the knowledge of the Buddha — it is the Word of the Buddha.

If we don’t have saddhā — if we don’t trust, if we don’t have faith, openness to the Teaching, to the Three Jewels — then this doubt becomes an obstacle to our progress.

We begin to sit and think: “Who knows whether the Buddha really existed or not?” “Who knows if kamma really exists or not?” “Is saṃsāra real or not?” “Who knows whether I’m meditating correctly or not?” “Who knows if this monk is speaking the truth or not?” Many doubts arise, and because of that the mind becomes filled with all kinds of thoughts — and we cannot practice properly.

How should you think? You’re already here — you’re already sitting, listening, meditating. You’ve already made an effort, bought your tickets. Now it’s too late to doubt. It’s better to spend these 10 days practicing. And then we’ll see — was the Buddha speaking the truth or not? Does this actually help us or not? We’ll be able to look at ourselves and see. That’s what these 10 days are for.

Nothing special is going to happen — we’re not doing anything extraordinary. We simply need to meditate, to see reality, to make an effort — yet without straining. You will feel the result, so there’s no need to doubt.

And of course, to overcome this hindrance, we need to study the Buddha’s Teaching — we need to have that knowledge. We should remember it, reflect on it. If we have any questions, we should ask a teacher, seek help from wholesome friends (kalyāṇamitta), and clarify them. Often, people simply don’t understand something in the Teaching, or they have some wrong information — and because of that, doubt arises. You can study the Dhamma, apply it gradually, and observe yourself — you’ll see that your suffering decreases and your happiness grows. And from that, your saddhā — your openness, trust, confidence, and faith in the Three Jewels — will also grow.

This hindrance arises because we lack knowledge of the Dhamma — we lack wisdom and information. We need to acquire this knowledge, and then the doubts will disappear.

Again, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by doubt, overwhelmed by doubt, and one does not understand as it really is the escape from arisen doubt, on that occasion one neither knows nor sees as it really is one’s own good, or the good of others, or the good of both. Then even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Suppose, brahmin, there is a bowl of water that is turbid, unsettled, muddy, placed in the dark. If a man with good sight were to examine his own facial reflection in it, he would neither know nor see it as it really is. So too, brahmin, when one dwells with a mind obsessed by doubt … on that occasion even those hymns that have been recited over a long period do not recur to the mind, let alone those that have not been recited.

Saṅgāravasutta: Saṅgarava (SN 46.55),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Explanation and Examples

When certain doubts or thoughts arise — just let them go. But seeing doubt is very difficult, because doubt arises in the mind as if it were wisdom. Doubts arise as if “I am right,” as if it were knowledge, wisdom.

Anger arises as if it were protection. As if there were no other way — as if it must be this way. It never appears as “I am anger.”

Likewise, craving for sensual pleasures never arises as “craving” or “I am kāmacchanda.” Kāmacchanda appears as pleasant memories, or as plans for something enjoyable. It seems like our helper, something that will assist us, improve, and ease our life.

Similarly, regrets and worries arise as if they could help us, as if they were our helpers, our protectors. As if by worrying or feeling remorse, we could fix something. But these are unwholesome qualities of the mind, they are hindrances. Our true protectors are hiri and ottappa — shame and fear of committing unwholesome actions.

When thīna-middha arises, the mind doesn’t want to think about anything; it becomes very inactive and sluggish. Don’t confuse this with concentration and calmness. When the mind is concentrated, there is balance in it, and the mind is alert.

We must see them. If we see the hindrances as hindrances, that is wisdom. As soon as we see the hindrances as hindrances, the mind immediately becomes calm. If we see anger as anger, it immediately disappears. If we see doubt as doubt, it immediately disappears. They may arise again later, but in that moment, they are not present.

Why are they not present? Because mindfulness and wisdom have arisen. The hindrances make way for mindfulness. Then mindfulness is there, and doubt disappears. When the hindrances go away, wholesome qualities immediately arise in the mind.

If the five hindrances arise during your meditation, the best antidote is to see them clearly — see them as they really are, with proper wisdom. See them as enemies, as obstacles — not as protectors or helpers, not as problems outside of you, but as hindrances. You don’t need to do anything to them — just see them as they are and return to your object of mindfulness.

As soon as we truly see the hindrances as hindrances, calmness immediately arises in the mind.

Let’s return to the example we discussed at the beginning. Imagine you are sitting, meditating, and realize that you are lost in pleasant thoughts or plans — you have lost your object of mindfulness. You need to see that this is the first hindrance — kāmacchanda, the craving for sensual pleasures — and return to the object of mindfulness.

If you start blaming yourself for this, scolding yourself, thinking, “How could I? I didn’t meditate properly again,” this will already be the fourth hindrance, uddhacca-kukkucca — restlessness and worry. You need to see this, understand it, realize that these worries are your enemy and do not help you at all. Then return to the object of mindfulness.

If you think, “I don’t know how to meditate, and I will never succeed,” this is doubt, vicikicchā. You need to see these thoughts as doubt. We must learn to recognize these hindrances, apply antidotes, and then return again to the object of mindfulness. You need to understand that all of this is meditation — the development of the mind.

People often think that only complete, uninterrupted one-pointedness of the mind on the object of awareness is meditation. You need to understand that this idea is mistaken, and it will only bring suffering; it will not help us at all. It will not be that you always sit without distraction, maintaining constant attention on the object of mindfulness. These five hindrances will arise, and we need to learn to see them as they really are.

Yes, there are very pleasant meditations when the mind is very calm, but all of this is impermanent — it’s all anicca. You may have one meditation session like that, but by the next one, it can be lost again. But without this, how can we learn to recognize these hindrances? How else can we learn to work with them? When you see the hindrances in your mind, that is precisely the development of meditation, the development of the mind.

Also, people often confuse thīna-middha — dullness and inertia of the mind — with the development of meditation. Sometimes during meditation, such an inert state arises, without thoughts. When the mind doesn’t want to act or think, it’s like some kind of trance. People mistake this state for samādhi. But this thoughtless state will not help us; it is not beneficial at all. We need to correct our views, to get rid of the thinking born of ignorance, not just suppress our ability to think.

These are the five hindrances. They are like an itch, like a persistent irritation. It is very difficult not to scratch an itch, and when you scratch it — it seems to get better. But afterwards, it still hurts, and the urge to scratch comes back again. The same happens with these hindrances. When there is a desire to see something, to hear something, to try something — until we satisfy that desire, it is very hard for us. When aversion or anger arise in the mind — until they leave, it is very difficult. We constantly suffer like this.

At Sāvatthī.
“Possessions, honor, and popularity are brutal …
Mendicants, did you hear an old jackal howling at the crack of dawn?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That old jackal has the disease called mange. He’s not happy in his den, or at the root of a tree, or out in the open. Wherever he goes, stands, sits, or lies down he meets with tragedy and disaster.
In the same way, take a certain mendicant whose mind is overcome and overwhelmed by possessions, honor, and popularity. They’re not happy in an empty hut, at the root of a tree, or out in the open. Wherever they go, stand, sit, or lie down they meet with tragedy and disaster.
So brutal are possessions, honor, and popularity. …”

Siṅgālasutta: A Jackal, SN 17.8,
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

But the most frightening thing is not this. Any ordinary person — whether rich or poor, strong or weak, Buddhist or not — can go through life without ever experiencing any state of mind other than these. From birth to death, only these five states of mind arise. Other thoughts may come and go, but not a different state of mind.

What does this mean? Suppose you feel compassion: you see a poor dog or cat and want to help it. Two or three minutes later — immediately sensual desire arises: you want to take it home, pet it. “It will always be mine, it will always wait for me,” and so on. Other thoughts arise, and this is no longer compassion. Or other thoughts arise: “How could someone treat a poor animal like that? What kind of person would do that? What a cruel world we live in!” And what is this? This is anger, aversion. Compassion appeared, and within minutes — anger immediately arose. You can observe your own mind and investigate yourself.

Therefore, our states of mind are these five: kāmacchanda, vyāpāda, thīna-middha, uddhacca-kukkucca, and vicikicchā. It’s as if these are illnesses that all unenlightened people suffer from. We need to be healed.

If we properly develop our mind, these states of mind will disappear, and other states of mind will arise. And they will be completely different. There will be calmness, joy, lightness in the body, one-pointedness of mind, concentration, wisdom, and mindfulness — these qualities will be present there. Therefore, we need to practice so that we can reach these other states of mind and move away from these hindrances.

Suppose a man who has gotten into debt were to apply himself to work, and his efforts proved successful. He would pay off the original loan and have enough left over to support his partner. Thinking about this, he’d be filled with joy and happiness.

Suppose a person was sick, suffering, and gravely ill. They’d lose their appetite and get physically weak. But after some time they’d recover from that illness, and regain their appetite and their strength. Thinking about this, they’d be filled with joy and happiness.

Suppose a person was imprisoned in a jail. But after some time they were released from jail, safe and sound, with no loss of wealth. Thinking about this, they’d be filled with joy and happiness.

Suppose a person was a bondservant. They would not be their own master, but indentured to another, unable to go where they wish. But after some time they’d be freed from servitude. They would be their own master, not indentured to another, an emancipated individual able to go where they wish. Thinking about this, they’d be filled with joy and happiness.

Suppose there was a person with wealth and property who was traveling along a desert road. But after some time they crossed over the desert, safe and sound, with no loss of wealth. Thinking about this, they’d be filled with joy and happiness.

In the same way, as long as these five hindrances are not given up inside themselves, a mendicant regards them as a debt, a disease, a prison, slavery, and a desert crossing. But when these five hindrances are given up inside themselves, a mendicant regards this as freedom from debt, good health, release from prison, emancipation, and a place of sanctuary at last.

Mahāassapurasutta: The Longer Discourse at Assapura (MN 39),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Sujato

Reminder on the Five Hindrances

Bhikkhu Asankhata Russiave

The five hindrances are five mental qualities that weaken the mind. Because of these five hindrances, a practitioner cannot attain deep meditative concentration. These hindrances are:

1. 1. Sensual desire (kāmacchanda)

1. 1. Ill-will (vyāpāda)

1. 1. Laziness and apathy (thīna-middha)

1. 1. Restlessness and remorse (uddhacca-kukkucca)

1. 1. Skeptical doubt or uncertainty (vicikicchā)

These hindrances are very deep, and fully overcoming them is extremely difficult (though possible). However, we can weaken them. When the five hindrances are completely subdued, the practitioner is able to enter a state of deep concentration in which these hindrances are temporarily absent. But at the initial stage, it is enough for us simply to recognize the presence or absence of these hindrances.

To reduce the five hindrances, one should understand the causes of their arising and apply the appropriate antidotes.

Kāmacchanda: Sensual Desire

Cause:

• • Directing the attention incorrectly toward the theme of beauty.

Antidotes:

• • Directing the attention toward unattractiveness; contemplation of the unattractive;

• • Reflecting on the drawbacks and the cost of sensual pleasures — what they really cost us;

• • Guarding the sense doors;

• • Associating with wholesome friends (kalyāṇamitta);

• • Avoiding idle talk;

• • Mindful and thoughtful consumption of food.

Vyāpāda: Ill Will

Cause:

• • Directing the attention incorrectly toward irritation.

Antidotes:

• • Cultivation of loving-kindness and compassion (mettā);

• • Reflection on kamma (karma): that one is the owner and heir of one’s actions — heir to whatever kamma one creates, whether good or bad;

• • Associating with wholesome friends (kalyāṇamitta);

• • Contemplating the danger, harm, and suffering that come from ill will and anger;

• • Avoiding idle chatter.

Thīna-middha: Sloth and Torpor

Cause:

• • Directing the attention incorrectly toward tiredness, dullness of mind, boredom, or drowsiness.

Antidotes:

• • Arousing energy and effort;

• • Moderation in eating;

• • Changing the posture of the body;

• • Walking meditation;

• • Contemplative (analytical) meditations — recollection of the Three Jewels, the qualities of the Buddha, death, etc.;

• • Turning the attention toward bright light;

• • Associating with wholesome friends (kalyāṇamitta);

• • Avoiding idle chatter;

• • Rubbing the earlobes until a slight pain arises;

• • Washing the face with cold water;

• • Getting proper rest — sleep;

• • Recollection and contemplation of the inevitability of death; contemplation of the unsatisfactoriness in what is impermanent.

Uddhacca-kukkucca: Restlessness and Remorse

Causes:

• • Directing the attention incorrectly toward a restless mind;

• • Immorality;

• • Agitation and busyness.

Antidotes:

• • Studying the Canon, the Buddha’s Teaching (Dhamma);

• • Clarifying doubts with teachers;

• • Developing concentration (samādhi bhāvanā);

• • Associating with wholesome friends (kalyāṇamitta);

• • Avoiding idle chatter;

• • Guarding the sense doors;

• • Maintaining moral conduct.

Vicikicchā: Skeptical Doubts or Uncertainty

Cause:

• • Directing attention incorrectly toward things that give rise to doubt.

Antidotes:

• • Wise reflection;

• • Studying the Canon, the Buddha’s Teaching (Dhamma);

• • Clarifying doubts with teachers and wholesome friends (kalyāṇamitta);
    Faith (saddhā): confidence in the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Saṅgha.

“Bhikkhus, there are these five themes that should often be reflected upon by a woman or a man, by a householder or one gone forth. What five? (1) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to old age; I am not exempt from old age.’ (2) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to illness; I am not exempt from illness.’ (3) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to death; I am not exempt from death.’ (4) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I must be parted and separated from everyone and everything dear and agreeable to me.’ (5) A woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am the owner of my kamma, the heir of my kamma; I have kamma as my origin, kamma as my relative, kamma as my resort; I will be the heir of whatever kamma, good or bad, that I do.’

(1) “For the sake of what benefit should a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to old age; I am not exempt from old age’? In their youth beings are intoxicated with their youth, and when they are intoxicated with their youth they engage in misconduct by body, speech, and mind. But when one often reflects upon this theme, the intoxication with youth is either completely abandoned or diminished. It is for the sake of this benefit that a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to old age; I am not exempt from old age.’

(2) “And for the sake of what benefit should a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to illness; I am not exempt from illness’? In a state of health beings are intoxicated with their health, and when they are intoxicated with their health they engage in misconduct by body, speech, and mind. But when one often reflects upon this theme, the intoxication with health is either completely abandoned or diminished. It is for the sake of this benefit that a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to illness; I am not exempt from illness.’

(3) “And for the sake of what benefit should a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to death; I am not exempt from death’? During their lives beings are intoxicated with life, and when they are intoxicated with life they engage in misconduct by body, speech, and mind. But when one often reflects upon this theme, the intoxication with life is either completely abandoned or diminished. It is for the sake of this benefit that a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am subject to death; I am not exempt from death.’

(4) “And for the sake of what benefit should a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, often reflect thus: ‘I must be parted and separated from everyone and everything dear and agreeable to me’? Beings have desire and lust in regard to those people and things that are dear and agreeable, and excited by this lust, they engage in misconduct by body, speech, and mind. But when one often reflects upon this theme, the desire and lust in regard to everyone and everything dear and agreeable is either completely abandoned or diminished. It is for the sake of this benefit that a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I must be parted and separated from everyone and everything dear and agreeable to me.’

(5) “And for the sake of what benefit should a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, often reflect thus: ‘I am the owner of my kamma, the heir of my kamma; I have kamma as my origin, kamma as my relative, kamma as my resort; I will be the heir of whatever kamma, good or bad, that I do’? People engage in misconduct by body, speech, and mind. But when one often reflects upon this theme, such misconduct is either completely abandoned or diminished. It is for the sake of this benefit that a woman or a man, a householder or one gone forth, should often reflect thus: ‘I am the owner of my kamma, the heir of my kamma; I have kamma as my origin, kamma as my relative, kamma as my resort; I will be the heir of whatever kamma, good or bad, that I do.’

(1) “This noble disciple reflects thus: ‘I am not the only one who is subject to old age, not exempt from old age. All beings that come and go, that pass away and undergo rebirth, are subject to old age; none are exempt from old age.’ As he often reflects on this theme, the path is generated. He pursues this path, develops it, and cultivates it. As he does so, the fetters are entirely abandoned and the underlying tendencies are uprooted.

(2) “This noble disciple reflects thus: ‘I am not the only one who is subject to illness, not exempt from illness. All beings that come and go, that pass away and undergo rebirth, are subject to illness; none are exempt from illness.’ As he often reflects on this theme, the path is generated. He pursues this path, develops it, and cultivates it. As he does so, the fetters are entirely abandoned and the underlying tendencies are uprooted.

(3) “This noble disciple reflects thus: ‘I am not the only one who is subject to death, not exempt from death. All beings that come and go, that pass away and undergo rebirth, are subject to death; none are exempt from death.’ As he often reflects on this theme, the path is generated. He pursues this path, develops it, and cultivates it. As he does so, the fetters are entirely abandoned and the underlying tendencies are uprooted.

(4) “This noble disciple reflects thus: ‘I am not the only one who must be parted and separated from everyone and everything dear and agreeable. All beings that come and go, that pass away and undergo rebirth, must be parted and separated from everyone and everything dear and agreeable.’ As he often reflects on this theme, the path is generated. He pursues this path, develops it, and cultivates it. As he does so, the fetters are entirely abandoned and the underlying tendencies are uprooted.

(5) “This noble disciple reflects thus: ‘I am not the only one who is the owner of one’s kamma, the heir of one’s kamma; who has kamma as one’s origin, kamma as one’s relative, kamma as one’s resort; who will be the heir of whatever kamma, good or bad, that one does. All beings that come and go, that pass away and undergo rebirth, are owners of their kamma, heirs of their kamma; all have kamma as their origin, kamma as their relative, kamma as their resort; all will be heirs of whatever kamma, good or bad, that they do.’ As he often reflects on this theme, the path is generated. He pursues this path, develops it, and cultivates it. As he does so, the fetters are entirely abandoned and the underlying tendencies are uprooted.

“Worldlings subject to illness,
old age, and death are disgusted
by other people who exist
in accordance with their nature.

“If I were to become disgusted
with beings who have such a nature,
that would not be proper for me
since I too have the same nature.

“While I was dwelling thus,
having known the state without acquisitions,
I overcame all intoxications —
intoxication with health,
with youth, and with life —
having seen security in renunciation.

“Zeal then arose in meas I clearly saw nibbāna.
Now I am incapable
of indulging in sensual pleasures.
Relying on the spiritual life,
never will I turn back.”

Abhiṇhapaccavekkhitabbaṭhānasutta: Themes (AN 5.57),
translation by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi

Additional materials

Saṅkappa rāgo purisassa kāmo

Kāma: Sensual Pleasures

Anicca: Impermanence

Yoniso manasikāra: The Wise Contemplation

Dāna, sīla, bhāvanā: The Three Types of Practice in Buddhism