“And how, monks, does a person, with the breakup of the body, attain Nibbāna without volitional exertion? Here, secluded from sensual pleasures, secluded from unwholesome states, a monk enters and dwells in the first jhāna … the fourth jhāna. He dwells relying upon these five powers of a trainee: the powers of faith … and wisdom. These five faculties are relatively feeble in him: the faculties of faith … and wisdom.” – Anguttara Nikaya
Some people walk the path like a storm—
strong, fast, certain.
Some walk like a quiet breeze—
hardly seen, hardly felt.
But both move.
The Buddha speaks of one whose faculties are weak.
Faith is not firm.
Energy comes and goes.
Mindfulness slips.
Concentration is soft.
Wisdom is not yet clear.
If you hear this, you may feel discouraged.
But don’t.
If you know the mind is weak, that is already knowing.
If you know it flickers, that is already the practice.
The real place of practice is where the mind meets what it likes and dislikes.
This person does not fight the weakness.
Does not pretend to be strong.
Does not force the mind into stillness.
They simply step back.
From sensual pull.
From unwholesome states.
From the habit of reaching outward.
And they stay.
Like sitting beside muddy water—
not stirring it,
not fixing it,
not demanding that it clear.
Just leaving it alone.
Then, little by little,
the water settles on its own.
The jhānas are like this.
They are not something you seize.
They are not something you display.
They come when agitation fades.
First a little quiet.
Then deeper quiet.
Then stillness more subtle than before.
Not because the self became powerful—
but because disturbance was no longer fed.
Even with weak faculties,
if you stop feeding restlessness,
peace begins to gather.
Like rain filling a clay jar,
drop by drop.
No single drop looks like much.
Still, the jar fills.
So do not measure your practice too much.
Do not become a merchant of the heart—
counting faith,
judging energy,
comparing wisdom.
That only creates more noise.
Instead, look simply:
Am I holding on?
Or am I letting go?
That is enough.
Walking—know.
Sitting—know.
Breathing—know.
Liking—know.
Disliking—know.
Strong—know.
Weak—know.
If this knowing is left undisturbed,
it gathers itself.
And one day,
without being arranged,
the mind becomes still.
Not because “you” made it still.
But because what disturbed it
has been put down.
This is the meaning of
without volitional exertion.
Like fruit on a tree—
it ripens by its nature
when the conditions are there.
Your task is simple.
Don’t shake the tree.