One of the three "right purposes" (sammā-saṅkappa) is renunciation. This word kind of leaves a bad taste in a lot of our mouths, because there's this general association of renunciation with pain, self-torment, and avoidance of pleasure. But that's not really what is meant in the Buddhist tradition by renunciation. In fact, it's a joyful experience! An expression of perfect contentment, of being pleased with what you have and where you are, and of peace and calm. You aren't renouncing because you want to deny yourself, but instead because you have decided that it's better. The word translated as renunciation, nekkhamma, also means to depart. As in, when you leave your house, or the grocery store, you are renouncing them. It's the sense of a departure, of a leaving behind of that which you have decided is worth leaving behind, because you are going somewhere else.

That's not to say there's never any struggle involved. At the beginning, it can actually be quite difficult to stick with a commitment to renunciation. Craving is strong, and convinces us that we will be happy if we can just get That Thing. But commitment to stillness, to watching the craving and understanding it, and understanding that it will just generate more dukkha, that it's a disturbance of the peace, that the peace can only really be regained by remaining still and not through gratification, and you can press through to greater pleasures.

And, indeed, this is also where samādhi, concentration, or attentive stillness, comes in handy. Being still, and calm, and at peace, is also a wonderful, joyous experience. It just feels so good. Indulge in it enough, and sensual pleasures start to lose their appeal. You start to see how they're fleeting, and really not worth chasing. How it's nicer to just, like, mellow out, man. And then you get into a feedback loop, because the calm that comes of not chasing after sensual pleasure supports samādhi, which in turn supports the calm that comes of not chasing after sensual pleasure.

I only today realized how the traditional formula of right effort also contains the four bases of power. The formula is:

...anuppannānaṃ pāpakānaṃ akusalānaṃ dhammānaṃ anuppādāya chandaṃ janeti vāyamati viriyaṃ ārabhati cittaṃ paggaṇhāti padahati.

...uppannānaṃ pāpakānaṃ akusalānaṃ dhammānaṃ pahānāya chandaṃ janeti vāyamati viriyaṃ ārabhati cittaṃ paggaṇhāti padahati.

...anuppannānaṃ kusalānaṃ dhammānaṃ uppādāya chandaṃ janeti vāyamati viriyaṃ ārabhati cittaṃ paggaṇhāti padahati.

...uppannānaṃ kusalānaṃ dhammānaṃ ṭhitiyā asammosāya bhiyyobhāvāya vepullāya bhāvanāya pārippūriyā chandaṃ janeti vāyamati viriyaṃ ārabhati cittaṃ paggaṇhāti padahati.

For the non-arising of unarisen evil, unskillful qualities, [the bhikkhu] generates desire, tries, arouses energy, applies the mind, and strives.

For the abandonment of arisen evil, unskillful qualities...

For the arising of non-arisen skillful qualities...

For the continuation, non-confusion, increase, making abundant, and completion of arisen skillful qualities...

In the string of verb phrases at the end of each sentence, we start with chandaṃ janeti, generating desire. We also have viriyaṃ ārabhati, arousing energy. And finally, cittaṃ paggaṇhāti, the application of mind. That's three of the iddhipāda. The fourth, vīmaṃsā? That's simply the ability to discriminate what qualities are skillful and what are not.

Neat!