On his path to enlightenment, the Buddha-to-be spent years avoiding pleasure and building his tolerance for discomfort. Like many others of his time, he practiced austerities, known as tapas, which literally means “heat.” One extreme form involved meditating under the hot noon sun, sometimes surrounded by four fires to intensify the experience.
Though these practices seem strange to us now, they were quite popular among spiritual seekers back then. They believed pleasure and happiness were tied to physical weaknesses and that the mind needed to master the body to achieve liberation. The Buddha-to-be followed this mindset for a while, engaging in practices like holding his breath until he was in pain, pulling out his hair and beard, sleeping on a bed of thorns, and fasting severely. From his own account, he gained nothing but near-death experiences from these practices.
Eventually, he realized these austerities were pointless and began to reflect on his path. He recalled a childhood memory of sitting under a tree in a calm, joyful meditative state while watching his father plow a field. This memory made him realize that he had been wrong to fear the pleasure that can come from meditation, as this pleasure was wholesome. He thought, “Why am I afraid of that pleasure, for it has nothing to do with sensual pleasures or unskillful qualities?”
He then understood that this state of easy, non-grasping happiness might be the path to spiritual awakening. His intuition confirmed it: “Yes, this is the path to awakening!”
While the ancient ascetic practices may seem odd today, there’s a similar spirit in our modern habits of overworking and depriving ourselves of rest to achieve “success.” Both the ancients and some people today believe that enduring pain and self-denial now will lead to future rewards. While challenging ourselves can sometimes bring future benefits, it’s also possible to be misguided, enduring pain now without any future relief or happiness.
You might wonder, “If the Buddha was against asceticism, why did he and his monastic followers live so austerely?” Early Buddhist monastics didn’t live in organized monasteries and led very simple lives. This wasn’t about self-punishment but about keeping life simple to focus on spiritual practice. They avoided pleasures that might lead them back into family life and away from full-time meditation.
The Buddha realized he didn’t need to fear pleasure and joy. He saw that the joy from meditation was part of the path to awakening. In my own experience, the times I’ve been happiest were during retreats with minimal communication, lots of meditation, and simple living. This contrasts sharply with the stress of daily life, filled with responsibilities.
Though the early monastic life was challenging, with many monks and nuns missing family life and disrobing, it was also deeply joyful for many. They lived calmly, with love and appreciation, and meditation played a key role.
Despite meditation being meant to be enjoyable, many modern meditators don’t find it that way. It’s worth asking if we bring ascetic attitudes to our practice. Do we see meditation as work, devoid of joy, thinking it will eventually lead to future happiness?
If you question the lack of joy in your meditation, you might think advanced techniques or breakthroughs are needed. Usually, just relaxing and not taking ourselves so seriously helps. I often ask myself, “Is there anything I’m doing right now that’s suppressing joy?” This might reveal body tension or a serious attitude, which I can then release. When I let go, joy arises, as if it’s been waiting for me to notice it. Joy makes meditation something to look forward to, again and again.
Consider joy as always present, waiting for you to find it. Ask yourself, “Is there anything I’m doing right now that’s suppressing joy?” Try this in meditation and in daily life.