When athletes compete in matches, they are utilizing the skills and functions of the manas. For instance, in various competitive sports—competing in speed, technique, reaction, and strength—full concentration is required, with undivided attention and a mind free of distractions. In such moments, is there time to use the conscious mind (manovijñāna) to deliberate over each movement or each response to an opponent’s action? Absolutely not. Otherwise, the moment one begins to contemplate how to respond, the opponent’s move would already be executed, and one would instantly be defeated. Time is most precious on the field; it determines victory or defeat. If one relies on conscious thinking to devise countermeasures, the opponent will not grant the opportunity to wait for deliberation—a single strike could secure their victory, surpassing you entirely.
Athletes lack the time to think through adaptations, so all on-the-spot responses are manifestations of the manas’ function. The manas operates silently, imperceptibly, and systematically, executing each movement and responding to every unexpected attack or challenge. This relies entirely on the conditioned reflexes formed through habitual training. The conditioned reflex activities of any living being are reactions of the manas, leaving no room for the conscious mind to intervene. Conditioned reflexes are the habits and tendencies of the manas, a mechanism developed through long-term conditioning and habituation. The conscious mind neither understands this nor can do anything about it; it can only submit entirely and follow along.
How does the manas form conditioned reflexes? It is the result of rigorous habitual training, which ingrains actions into habit, much like muscle memory. Any movement or technique can be executed without passing through conscious thought—it is completed directly. This means that the path of conscious deliberation is bypassed. In such moments, the conscious mind is not used for thinking but serves only to guide the manas, directing it toward a specific object or method. Simultaneously, the mind must maintain only a single awareness—nothing more. Any other mental activity is superfluous, unnecessary, and entirely unusable. To employ it would lead to failure and delay, guaranteeing defeat in competition.
Only when training has been insufficient or experience is lacking does one resort to conscious thinking to strategize tactics or countermeasures. But is there still time? It is like being on a battlefield with enemy swords and spears pointed at you—can you afford to scratch your head pondering solutions? Conscious analysis and deliberation are only useful after the match or battle, for summarizing lessons learned. Even during training, they are seldom applicable. Once one knows how to train, one need only follow the method diligently. Only after training to proficiency and mastering the technique can one compete. Success in competition relies on the skills honed through training—the manas’ level of mastery—not on luck, improvisation, or on-the-spot strategizing.
Does the manas engage in mental activity during intense responses? Of course it does, and at great speed, silently and imperceptibly. Not only are the five universal mental factors (pañca-sarvatraga) interlinked, but the five object-specific mental factors (pañca-viniyata) also follow closely, appearing constantly. The most prominent among them are the mental factors of concentration (samādhi) and wisdom (prajñā). Without concentration, one cannot maintain focus; the slightest distraction or stray thought causes movements to falter, allowing the opponent to seize the advantage and leading to defeat. In such moments, the conscious mind’s wisdom is largely ineffective; everything depends on the manas’ wisdom. If the manas lacks wisdom, one becomes flustered and unable to respond effectively to various situations—what, then, is the point of competing?
The same applies to our actual practice of contemplating the Dharma. The conscious mind directs the manas toward the object of contemplation, maintaining awareness of it and fixing it upon the Dharma, while all else is the manas’ direct perception. For example, when observing a flower, simply fix your gaze upon it and observe—just look. There is no need for the conscious mind to analyze or imagine: the flower’s species, origin, shape, color, beauty, whether it will bloom again, whether it can still grow, or what would happen if it were given to someone. All such miscellaneous thoughts must be utterly extinguished. Do not forcibly impose learned theories to subjectively conclude: “This flower is impermanent, illusory, empty; it is manifested by the tathāgatagarbha; it arises from the tathāgatagarbha’s four great elements and various causes and conditions.” How can one draw conclusions without even knowing how to observe? What benefit is there in all this busyness?
Simply observe with the manas. Observe whatever is present—do not imagine, infer, or analyze—until the arising, abiding, changing, and ceasing of the observed object becomes clear, and the perceived reality of the phenomenon before you dissolves. When samādhi arises, emptiness and selflessness are realized. At this point, how powerful is the manas’ wisdom? Is it still the “inferior” manas? How could an inferior wisdom engage in contemplation, recognize the arising, abiding, changing, and ceasing of phenomena, or realize the truth? By now, what mental factors the manas possesses or lacks should be clear, should it not?
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