A member asked, through a relayed question: if someone strictly practices the ten wholesome courses of action, will their meditation improve?

The ten wholesome courses of action genuinely develop concentration

He confirmed: absolutely, yes. Abiding within the ten wholesome courses of action builds mindfulness, because the mind must constantly reflect. The three bodily actions — not killing, not stealing, not engaging in sexual misconduct — protect us from the unwholesome, even if not from the neutral. The four verbal actions — not lying, not slandering, not speaking harshly, not speaking idly — all disturb the path toward the first jhāna. Someone who speaks little, stays mindful, and avoids idle chatter keeps their mind from becoming deranged. The three mental actions — not coveting others' possessions, not harboring ill will, and holding right view — round out the ten, and all of them free us from the unwholesome's guidance.

The unwholesome guides us toward accepting wrongful thought, speech, and action. Once we accept it, we become imprisoned within its dimension and get shaped by it — much like keeping company with a bad crowd, listening to and absorbing their talk, being molded by them. At the same time, it draws in demerit, staining the mind dark and steadily eroding our right view. Demerit accumulates continuously; the proportion of wholesomeness shrinks, right view shrinks, while the unwholesome and wrong view grow.

Concentration comes from setting an intention, then continuously receiving the feeling that arises

For anyone wanting good concentration, it's essential to understand what concentration actually is. It begins with cultivating right mindfulness, which leads to right concentration. Cultivating right mindfulness means setting an intention to know — whatever we set, that's what we come to know: setting our attention on the Buddha image, we know the Buddha image; setting it on a mantra, we know the mantra; setting it on the breath, we know the breath moving in and out. We simply receive whatever state appears. Concentration arises from the feeling we receive in this way — if we can't receive it, no feeling arises, the mind can't be anchored, and the softness and refinement we're after can't arise either. So we must set our intention and stay attentively focused on whatever state of Dhamma appears in each moment.

Start simply by learning to receive it — noticing the breath touching the nostril going in, touching going out, or staying aware of the Buddha image, or the mantra, until a mood arises. At first it's just a raw feeling — the feeling of the breath, the feeling of the Buddha image, a feeling of pleasure, pain, or neutrality, or a feeling of loving-kindness — whichever one we've set. As we receive that feeling continuously, more and more, until it becomes concentrated enough, merit flows in and clears away the impurity that obscures, lightening it, refining the feeling until we can perceive the deeper feeling capable of anchoring the mind. A feeling that anchors the mind to the wholesome side is called a wholesome mood; a feeling that anchors it to the unwholesome side is likewise called an unwholesome mood.

Understood this way, concentration is simply the act of going in to receive the feeling we've set our intention on. Merit comes in to purify the impurity, and the clarity of that feeling grows sharper and sharper, until it can anchor the wholesome mind firmly to the heart. Otherwise, other natures compete for the mind's attention, and it flickers back and forth. This is why we need the feeling born from the sphere of knowing — setting the intention to stay continuously aware, without forgetting — so that what starts as a faint touch of sensation grows clearer with every session of practice, until it can finally anchor the wholesome mind in place.

The same principle of setting an intention applies to keeping precepts and to any wish

This same principle of setting an intention applies to the ten wholesome courses of action as well. We set the intention for the three bodily actions — not to kill, not to steal, not to commit sexual misconduct. When the impulse to do wrong arises, we recognize it: this feeling has arisen, but we had already resolved not to act on it, so we don't. The same goes for the three mental actions — not coveting others' possessions, not harboring ill will — while the tenth requires holding right view in a positive sense, an intentional stance of correct understanding.

When the feeling of greed arises, wanting something that isn't ours — even someone earning an honest living, in a sense, wants wealth that belongs to others — we need to recognize where our true wealth actually resides: within ourselves, in our own sphere of merit. So whenever we desire something, we set that aspiration toward the center of the body, the seat of the sphere of Dhamma, where our merit and our own refined possessions are stored. The guardian overseeing our resources there will act to fulfill what we've set our intention toward, just as we are the rightful owner of the wealth held within us.

Everything depends on setting an intention this way — both the intention not to do what's wrong and the intention to do what's right. If we wish for good concentration, we set that intention toward concentration itself. The background — the knowing, capable presence within — will teach us, almost as if it were our own thought, guiding us on what to do; we simply need to try it. That capable presence will overlay and refine us, and the knowing presence will offer guidance. But if we act without asking, we won't understand — we'll practice in confusion. We need to ask the knowing presence within, to connect with it through our questions. Sometimes it can't answer right away, because impurity still obscures the connection — in that case, we simply keep holding the same question in awareness, again and again, and the presence within gradually draws in merit to clear away that impurity, lightening it, until it reaches a level where it can send the information through to us. The more often we ask, the easier that connection becomes, until eventually the answer comes the instant we ask — much like having a teacher close by, always ready to guide and instruct us.