เมื่อใจตั้งมั่นเป็นสมาธิ เป็นหนึ่งเดียวกับสภาวธรรมแล้ว ไม่จำเป็นต้องภาวนาต่อ เพราะใจได้พบความละเอียดปราณีตกว่า จึงลืมอารมณ์ที่อยากภาวนาไปเอง เหมือนชาวสวรรค์ที่ลืมความสุขหยาบเมื่อพบความสุขที่ปราณีตกว่าOnce the mind has settled into concentration, unified with the state of dhamma, there's no longer any need to keep reciting — the mind, having found something finer, simply forgets the urge to recite. It's the same as heavenly beings who forget coarser happiness once they encounter something more refined.
A student asked: the Great Teacher once said that if, while meditating with the recitation "Samma-Araham," the mind grows still and forgets the recitation altogether, there's no need to start reciting again. Why is that?
The teacher answered that at that point, the mind has already settled into concentration and no longer needs the sound of recitation. The mind is able to become unified as one with the state of — one-pointedness (ekaggatā) — in that moment, so recitation is no longer needed. Once the mind is still, the urge to recite simply disappears, because the subtlety of the mind at that moment exceeds the subtlety of the urge to recite. The mind becomes still, unified with that state of dhamma, held there by a new, subtler experience. It has moved beyond the coarser experience into a finer one.
The teacher compared this to a question about answered earlier: happiness comes in many levels. Once we reach a finer level of happiness, we naturally let go of the coarser one. For instance, we may delight in worldly pleasures — sights, tastes, smells, sounds, touch, mental objects — but once we enter the inner world where happiness is more refined, we naturally let go of worldly happiness, because we've encountered something finer. The mind is drawn to what is subtle; the finer and more refined something is, the more the mind gravitates toward it and is held there.
The same is true of the state of dhamma. A still state is more refined, subtler, and happier than a state that still requires recitation. Once we reach that more refined happiness, we naturally forget the recitation. It's like heavenly beings: while on the human plane, they find happiness worrying over children and grandchildren, but once in the heavenly realm, encountering a more refined happiness, they forget it all — forgetting loved ones, children, spouses, grandchildren, and possessions — because they've encountered something more refined, more beautiful, more captivating. So they let go of the coarser happiness naturally. Becoming still enough to forget the recitation works exactly the same way.