The Abandoning of Anger | Ajahn Plien

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
The Abandoning of Anger | Ajahn Plien
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This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Plien and is titled “The Abandoning of Anger”. In this talk Ajahn Plien outlines the many causes for anger and conflict to arise in human relationships, why it’s important to overcome anger and how to abandon anger.

This teaching was translated and made available for free distribution as a gift of Dhamma by the Sangha at Wat Aranyavivek.


The Abandoning of Anger
I would like to share the teachings of the Lord Buddha with you to help clarify your wisdom and enhance your faith and confidence. Why do human beings born in the world so often live in conflict, argument and with suffering? We see it among our friends, family, and relatives, amongst all classes and in all countries. The Lord Buddha advised us to look in our own hearts and minds to find the causes of this unhappiness and conflict.
To live together happily requires us to be mindful of how we think, speak and act towards one another. It is a fact that unwholesome mind-states like greed, anger, and confusion have been causing us suffering for many lifetimes. Therefore we must be mindful – in what we say, think, or do – or these unwholesome states will overcome us. Being dominated by them, it will be very difficult to abandon these old habits and thus train ourselves properly.
Anger can arise in many different ways. For instance, it arises when one is dis- pleased by another’s actions that are opposed to our desires. Suppose we give some- body a nice watch and then see that person not take care of it properly. We might become annoyed and upset. Or in the case of a parent who allows their child to drive the family car, instructing the child to drive it from here to there. But the child does not use the car properly, driving it carelessly or going elsewhere. Consequently, the parent becomes furious because the child did not properly follow their instructions.
One can become angry by seeing others act in ways perceived to be inappropriate. For example, some people may talk behind another person’s back, saying that they are bad, ugly, messy, or behave poorly. When that person hears what has been said, they get outraged, even uncontrollably so. Their minds can go on and on, asking over and over why these people gossiped about them, saying such hurtful things.
Other people can trigger our temper as well. Let’s say that we hear critical things said about us, but remain composed. Then a third person comes and provokes us, saying, “Why, I wouldn’t stand for that sort of treatment if I were you!” Then we find ourselves infuriated. Thus hatred can be caused by instigation. Another example of this is when anger is aroused by indulging in gossip and discussing the intolerable behavior of some third person.
Aversion can often arise in family situations. A husband might say something to his wife who then reacts abruptly, without patience, to what has been said. Both then get emotionally worked up and begin to exchange harsh and bitter words.
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Anger arises between parents and children as well. Parents advice, their children to be good, but if the child answers back or otherwise reacts improperly, the parents can become irritated and upset.
Misunderstandings and conflicts can occur between friends as well. This can gen- erate negativity and destroy friendships. When one thoroughly contemplates anger, it is easy to see how dangerous it is and the misery it causes.
From the above examples it can be seen that there are numerous ways that anger can arise. Some people easily get upset over minor matters. Others are able to tolerate intense situations before they get to a point where they can’t take it any longer and then anger explodes through speech or action.
Anger has many causes. The root cause however is defilement in the mind. Also, a lack of enough mindfulness and wisdom to restrain anger with patience. People allow their minds to dwell on unwholesome thoughts and this becomes the cause for angry outbursts. Invariably they lose the ability to remain mindful, and to practice patience and humble endurance.
We need to realize just how dangerous aversion is. Suffering arises the moment we get annoyed or aggravated. The Lord Buddha said “Nahi Sathu Kotho,” meaning “aversion is not good.” If we cannot see the disadvantages of anger and the harm it causes, then we will not be able to restrain our anger. We will not be able to purge it from our minds. When anger dominates our minds, all it yields is suffering for us and harm for others.
There are numerous ways and circumstances in which aversion can arise and com- pletely dominate our minds. For example in the workplace: co-workers can become so upset with each other that all cooperation ends and they end up as antagonists shout- ing at each other. Riling in this way is harmful both to those who indulge in it as well as to those who bear the brunt.
Anger can be a strongly ingrained tendency in certain people or between certain individuals that has developed over many lifetimes. When they meet each other again in this life either as husbands, wives, brothers or sisters, then those habits of resent- ment, which have built up over these past lives, will make it easy for them to get on each other’s nerves again, even over little things.
Sometimes one has spent a number of past lives with the same group of people. Some families always seem to be upset and argue with one another. There is no har- mony in their lives. The power of their kamma, their past deeds, is such that they are pulled to live with each other.
In some cases parents and children may live together, yet not be able to get along. Their lives are filled with sorrow, a sorrow which repeats itself over and over again, lifetime after lifetime. For such people even to look at the other or hear the other’s voice can cause resentment and negativity. When people are inter-linked in this way, just thinking about that person can cause so much suffering and ill will that the mind whirls out of control. Fighting and even killing can be the result.
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So it is evident that those with clouded minds experience sorrow and suffering. They find themselves in constant conflict with others and their vexation is expressed through speech and actions. The Lord Buddha said that being angry is like being stabbed with a sword in the heart. The pain of anger penetrates the heart and perpetual suffering is the consequence. Kamma is created by this habitual action.
If two people are always getting in a row, it may be that in former lives they adopted this tendency to get irritated every time their paths crossed. Even when they attempt to talk together amicably, trying to be considerate, they misunderstand each other and get into arguments. This is because of unskillful habits formed in previous lives. In those past lives they might have fought and squabbled, constantly provoking and counter- attacking each other.
There is another kind of anger that can arise because of love or lust. Consider the case of a husband and wife who love each other very much. However, if they allow possessiveness to stain their love then feelings of ownership and jealousy arise. If one of them returns home late, then the partner worries until feelings of jealousy and mistrustaregenerated. Whenoneofthepartnersfeelsignoredornotheard,asenseof resentment and frustration can result. This type of anger arises from love, attachment, lust and jealousy.
Similarly, sometimes the more parents love their children, the more they expect them to comply with their words. Parents can become very upset when their child does not behave in the way they expect. A parent may have taught the child to speak kindly, but then they speak rudely or swear – such disobedience can exasperate the parent. Their ire is actually rooted in love and attachment. The beloved child is expected to be considerate and well behaved, fulfilling the parent’s expectations by following their advice. The child receives much love and care from the parent, and the parent in turn wants the child to be sensitive and caring to others. When this doesn’t happen, the parent is angered.
We see that anger can easily spring out of love, be it between husband and wife, parents and children or between friends. A lover can fly into a rage if their loved one does not follow their wish, criticizes, blames, or gossips about them. It is a ubiquitous and ingrained impulse in beings that have been born together in this world, to feel hurt and piqued when those they love do not fulfill their wishes and desires.
Hatred is the most intense form of anger and can be very difficult to control. Re- venge is even more intense than hatred. At the other end of the spectrum, negativity or minor feelings of frustration are among the less challenging facets of anger, and can usually be restrained. If these milder forms of resentment arise and agitate the mind, but are then not allowed to express themselves through one’s speech, expressions or gestures, they will more easily run their course and fade away. However if a person’s rage intensifies, they may completely lose control. Minor fuming may turn into abu- sive utterances and actions and end up in a fight.
Resentment or aversion is a mood that forms in a mind which has lost its ability to be patient and humble. The inevitable result is pain and suffering. It can grow into
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a craving for revenge and even to thoughts of murder. When unwholesome thoughts totally dominate the mind, a person is can even feel a sense of elation at successfully murdering another. Unrestrained thoughts lead to unwholesome courses of action, and yield enormous physical and psychological suffering.
Remember, anger is a choice – a negative emotion allowed to run amok in one’s mind. Nobody actually “makes” another person angry. Anger arises in oneself. Anger can even be directed towards oneself. For example, if an activity undertaken does not yield the desired outcome, one might be disappointed and disgruntled at one’s own performance.
Whether anger is directed at another or at oneself, it is the same mechanism at work. An unwholesome thought arises in the mind – such as self-criticism because something didn’t happen the way one wanted – and that unwholesome thought is then perpetuated and clung to. Before long the person becomes angry, perhaps even to the point of losing self-control, because he is not able to get what he wants.
If one has not learned how to check and discipline the mind, then one may say wrong things at the wrong time, or say something nasty or otherwise act inappropri- ately towards someone else. Later, one feels guilty and regrets behaving in that way. This causes one to get even more upset with oneself. But nobody else makes one angry. One makes oneself angry.
Some people get upset as a consequence of their own self-critical and judgmental attitudes. Let’s say a person falls seriously ill and gets so enfeebled that traveling or doing things with others is no longer possible. They may start to feel sorry for them- selves and wonder why they have such weakness and bad health. Thinking, “What bad luck or kamma I have,” they might become extremely frustrated and angry with themselves.
The process of anger is important to contemplate and understand. To see how it works is very interesting. If this dynamic is not clearly understood, ignorance and confusion will result rather than clear comprehension. One must closely note that anger arises through one’s own thoughts, not through anyone else’s.
Dissatisfaction arises from craving for unwise things, talking unskillfully, or work- ing in a careless way. For example, one may get upset when ill, or feel frustrated over not being as good looking as someone else. Why does dissatisfaction arise like this? It is because of a lack of self-awareness, and of breaks in mindfulness. When mindfulness and clear comprehension are not present, dissatisfaction can arise.
Some people can even get angry at themselves over their meditation! During med- itation, they try very hard to calm and concentrate the mind but fail to do so. Their mind wanders here and there, thinking of many things other than the task at hand. The mind refuses to settle down and stay with the meditation object no matter how hard they try. Finally, they give up, exasperated because their mind is so out of con- trol.
Each one of us intimately knows the face of anger. We believe that external things
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trigger it, but actually we have to understand that it is self created. A person who does not behave correctly, who does not speak gently, nor knows the right time and place to say things, will inevitably find he cannot be tranquil and concentrated when med- itating. When a person lets unwholesome states inhabit the mind, the latent agitation easily swells into anger. One’s self-awareness disappears when this happens. Only misery and bad effects follow. People really suffer because they don’t understand this process.
When a person is really furious, everyone can see it written on their face and punc- tuated in their words and actions. The mind of wrathful person is clouded, withered, and filled with suffering. Like a rotten egg, it’s of no use to anybody. Even if a person dresses smartly in expensive clothes and fine jewelry, but then allows anger to adorn their heart, there will be only misery, ugliness and pain for that person. The Lord Bud- dha said that “anger is like a fire burning our heart,” and that very fire can inflame our speech or actions. He said “Nahi Sathu Kotho,” meaning anger is totally blameworthy and ignoble.
Contemplate whether anger is good or bad. How many times since our youth have we lost our temper? It has happened many times to all of us. Now we are getting older. Some of us may be even grandparents, and we still get incensed by those around us.
Every time anger arises, nothing beneficial comes from it. We go on getting pro- voked over and over again. Aren’t we fed up yet? Will we just go on letting this unworthy, unwholesome substance fester in our hearts, making us so sad and miser- able? Why can’t we just kick out anger? It’s because we lack mindfulness and wisdom and thus fall under the sway of negative thoughts.
Anger is unwholesome. In our lifetime, we have gotten angry over and over again for such a long time that you would think we would be tired of it. Why have we not changed? It is because our minds are still unhealthy. As if our minds are diseased and constantly feverish, burning us and causing endlessly agony. This disease just keeps on making us get sick over and over again while we grow older by the day. We keep accumulating these rotten, unwholesome thoughts. Defilements are foul and cause misery for ourselves and others! But instead of purifying our minds, we allow all this rubbish to stay, never making an effort to get rid of it.
The Lord Buddha said we are not wise if we do not relinquish anger and negativity: these are useless emotions and do not yield happiness. It is like storing a fermented, foul smelling thing in our house or carrying it in our pockets wherever we go. Wher- ever we go everything smells awful. Why do we carry such things around with us? We lack wisdom! Carrying something foul around is a simile for holding on to anger.
Sometimes people get annoyed at their friends, children, nephews or nieces, spouse, grandparents and then they catch themselves and regain mindfulness, realizing that they are doing an unwholesome thing. They understand that they have to live together with these people and they should not be averse to them. Even so, they feel incapable of avoiding such behavior. Few are the people who are able to exercise caution, and thereby train themselves to not be overcome by anger.
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Please reflect: is anger a good thing? How long have we been holding on to our aversions? Aren’t we fed up with negativity? Does the burning rage inside make you happy? Don’t you want to purify your mind of it? Don’t you want to live happily? Or would you rather hold on to it and lead a miserable life? If you want your life to move in a positive direction, then inwardly reflect and look at the consequences of anger. You will see that its conquest is the most important thing.
So now that we have exposed anger as a really bad thing, how can we cut it out of our lives to live happily? To answer this question, we must closely introspect in order to understand things clearly. If we fail to do this, we will live an unhappy life. It’s that simple. The Lord Buddha taught us to never respond to an angry person with anger. If we respond in the same way, we are even worse than them, even more foolish and certainly not in any way better than them. It is useless to respond to aversion with aversion. Let us find a way to avoid, abandon, and purify ourselves of this foolishness. Reflect on ways to abandon this stupidity.
Now, how can we do this so as to be happy? If we realize the worthless and painful nature of anger, it is easier to give it up. We need to wisely reflect with mindfulness: “I have been caught in this endless ongoing cycle of anger which has perpetuated itself since beginning less time”. So what should we do first to curb this emotion and then completely abandon it, banishing it from our hearts and minds? This is achievable through the practice of patience and humility. Here’s an example: Let’s say we want something to be done in a particular way and instruct an appropriately skilled person on the specifications. Despite meticulous instruction it does not get done that way. This may rile us. But rather than getting irritated, we can develop composure and remain silent, containing any arisen frustration within ourselves. By acting in this way it just ends there.
A parent may give a child a new toy and then later find it broken. Rather than getting infuriated, the parent can reflect on the impermanent nature of all things. It is natural that things like toys will wear out and eventually break, regardless of how they are treated by the child. If the parent merely focuses on the child’s carelessness with the toy, they will no doubt be upset. Would that be of any use? They would still have to accept the truth that all objects wear out and break.
In whatever social setting we are, we should endeavor to abandon feelings of vex- ation. If we do get upset and can no longer endure a situation, then it’s best to remove ourselves from that situation. Not having contact with those who annoy us will help subdue the resentment. This is a means of temporarily abandoning ill will. It will check the anger until we meet that person or situation again.
Sometimes when a couple is conversing, they speak in a way of “point scoring” creating arguments and disagreements thereby. They do not even listen to each other. Instead they ceaselessly hurl verbal barbs at each other. In the same way children will argue and contend with their parents, not obeying their advice. So then parents get angry even though they love them.
What should parents do? When they are extremely annoyed, then that’s the time to let go of the situation, to drop it. This gives a chance for the anger to subside. Even
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though it may reappear when the same situation occurs again, they’re getting some breathing space by subduing the process for a short time. Please understand though that this is not a permanent method for preventing anger from arising.
We tend to have a lot of self-hatred. Even when we try to develop loving kindness we can end up frustrated with ourselves. We may become very self-critical when we make a mistake. For example we make an unsound decision at work or when shopping make an unsuitable purchase. This can leave us discontented and mired in self blame. We condemn ourselves as foolish and get upset. This focusing on faults is how anger arises and is sustained.
Rather than getting caught in self-condemnation, we should reflect that making a mistake is normal. No human being can avoid making some mistakes. If we are upset because we have made a bad purchase, or are dissatisfied with how something has turned out, there is unwholesome craving and desire at the source of our thoughts and actions. While it is extremely hard for human beings to not at times be overcome by such anger, remember to be patient and humble. A mind that has not been well trained is difficult to control. So contemplate and reflect wisely in order to develop an understanding of how anger works.
In the same way that we can’t control our own mind, we can’t control the minds of others, such as our children. They will not always follow our wishes because they are somebody else. Our children don’t belong to us. We can’t force them to only do as we want, so it is useless to fret over them. Instead, we need to learn from them, to know their temperament and character and understand how they react and respond in various situations. When we can discern other people’s temperaments and character traits then we better equipped to deal with them.
Avoidance of people who anger us cannot resolve the situation. Instead, we try to cultivate forbearance towards those who trigger such feelings in us. Endeavor to find skillful ways to see things from their perspective, their point of view. By understanding them more completely, we learn to live together amiably, communicate harmoniously, with less argument, anger, ill will or prejudice.
This is a crucial point. If we do not understand those around us, we cannot avoid getting angry. We will only be able to subdue these feelings in a temporary or in- termittent manner. Instead, we need to abandon anger by cultivating patience and persistently letting go of the arisen negativity.
We need to develop our skills of listening and communication. When a husband is speaking, then a wife should endeavor to listen quietly without criticism. Similarly, if a wife is speaking, a husband should be patient, and not just answer back abruptly. By being patient, the couple will not get annoyed with each other. They will acquire the skill of harmonious communication. When a couple continually squabbles, the conflict can become so intense and loud that the neighbors know all about it. Everyone knows for sure that there is no happiness in that house, and they become the talk of the neighborhood. If that couple knew what the neighbors thought, then they might have a sense of conscience and shame. Perhaps some reflection on why they married will help: they had loved each other. Living together over time, things changed, and
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they began to argue. If they really reflected in this way, they would be ashamed at the way they have been treating each other.
If the members of a family ponder how much harm disagreements cause, they would be wary of perpetuating arguments. As a result, heated tempers would cool down. By comparing themselves with other families around them, they might observe how others are able to live peacefully and happily. “Why can’t our family live with trust and understanding?” If we look at things clearly like this, separating the good from the bad, we will realize that our thinking has been inferior to that of our neigh- bors! Contemplating this, anger will be calmed.
Instead of reacting to improper treatment by our family members, we can look upon them with loving eyes. We may be temporarily upset, because they did not do as we wanted. But we should ask ourselves: “Is there any use getting annoyed about it?” We may want our children to be well behaved, thoughtful, caring, and sincere, but we have to accept the fact that people are born with different characters and behave differently. It is natural that people living together have disagreements. We need to learn about each others temperaments and character traits so as to understand each other’s actions. Some people work hard, have pleasant manners, speak well, and are quick learners. Others are dull, slow, untidy and speak crudely. People are very different. When there is understanding, then it is much easier to forgive and not get caught in negative reactions. One should use common sense to remedy difficult situations.
To understand our children’s behavior, we need to understand their temperaments and characters and to know that each has their own personality. Even though we may wish that our children always behave well, some will perform better than others.
We need to closely study our children’s habits and character traits. If a child mis- behaves, then as parents we need to instruct and counsel them. They are children and not yet as wise as adults. We love them dearly and wish them well. Through such observation, we can work out how to approach them and teach them how to achieve their very best. We also need to encourage them, showing them by example how to behave well and speak kindly.
Counsel your children. Teach them to understand the consequences of how they be- have and speak. If they do something wrong, we should practice forgiveness, knowing they are still lacking in self-awareness and wisdom. We teach them how to improve by having understanding and patience ourselves. They are our children, not objects of our anger.
Explain to them the difference between right and wrong. Point out the results of actions, and patiently show them the consequences of doing the wrong thing. We should not exhibit any annoyance while instructing them. Rather, develop friendliness and kindness and be filled with acceptance. They are still in need of our advice and guidance – and our love.
People tend to get angry at those closest to them – their husbands, wives, children or friends and co-workers. Try to constantly reflect on the fact that people are very different. Develop the ability to study and observe people whoever they are, regardless
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of their sex or age. We can teach and train ourselves in this way. We observe, for example, that it is natural that when people get older, they tend to complain more. Sometimes they get upset about things without reason. If we understand this, then instead of getting frustrated, we can change our outlook and attitude towards them. We act with kindness, first discovering our own weaknesses, and then carefully, with love, dealing with the situation. If we work on ourselves rather than trying to change others, then the positive changes in us will become evident to them. When they notice this, they will be at ease and have fewer grounds for complaint.
To see the danger and pain associated with anger is the very method for abandon- ing it. Self-hatred can arise in our hearts to the point where one loathes oneself even while trying to do loving kindness meditation. The mind wanders and we end up getting annoyed at ourselves. What’s the use of that? We are angry and this is a defile- ment of the mind. The mind wanders due to a cause – the lack of mindfulness, clear self-awareness and wisdom to guide the thinking mind to calm and concentration. We shouldn’t be upset with this wandering mind. When you reflect on it, it’s laughable that we get angry even at ourselves. Anger and negativity are in the mind and that is where they are overcome and abandoned. There is no logic in getting angry at oneself.
During times of meditation our minds are sometimes elsewhere. What do we gain then by getting exasperated? That only increases our lack of mindfulness, making the mind even more unstable and prone to wandering. Self anger is ridiculous – there is no reason for such emotions.
We should develop a lot of awareness around speech. Sometimes we allow sharp words to slip out without thinking. We say hurtful things because first we think hurtful thoughts. Anger has originated in the mind. The harsh words come out because we havelostourmindfulness,wisereflectionandpatience. Havingsaidsomethingwrong or offensive, we can often suffer from guilt and self loathing. If we train ourselves to develop more awareness around speech, then we can eventually overcome these negative speech patterns.
Unwholesome thinking will affect our work, making it disorganized and lacking quality, resulting in our goals remaining unachieved. We may wish to do something well, but if the outcome does not comply with our expectations, we get angry at our- selves. Why? There is no point in getting upset. Anger is an unwholesome state and unbeneficial. Is there any sense in getting incensed? It’s worth recognizing and ac- knowledging how much self-criticism and anger we are filled with. Think about it.
Whatever we do, whether we are standing around, walking, sitting down, or even when asleep, the mind can get caught up in unwholesome, negative thoughts. These defilements are in the mind. Defilements seek satisfaction and fulfillment of desire, but when those desires are frustrated, discontent results. Aversion leads to unskillful speech and action. We need self-awareness, mindfulness and wisdom to investigate and contemplate the causes of anger. We need to carefully look inward. Consider your character and personality – how do you speak to people? How do you do things? How do you think? Use wisdom to catch your own bad habit patterns. It’s only after having understood these patterns that can we abandon them. This is how we come to reduce the intensity of anger in the mind.
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What should we do when we try this but fail? One thing we can do is to really study the disadvantages of anger. Carefully notice how it has a gross negative effect on our relationships. We can then see the suffering arise right here and now as a result of aversion.
Use intelligence and wisdom to clearly comprehend the ill effects of hatred. By doing so, we will gradually find it easier to refrain from getting outraged. Learn to observe other people and study their habits and idiosyncrasies. We may see that their mannerisms of body and speech that upset us are the norm for them. They are who they are. This understanding can enable us to give up being annoyed by them.
It is important to note the way we react and to the process of our reaction. For example, when criticized, sound is heard by the ears and it is recognized by the minds. Then it is stored in memory and becomes a part of consciousness. This is how it is known in the mind. If we are angry we also know this in the heart and mind. Why cling to that memory of a sound? It has ceased to exist. It is not-self. Why do we hold on and attach to things? Why do we attach to unwholesome thoughts and moods? When we consider this process of what’s happening it helps us abandon anger and ill will. The more we let go, the less intense these defilements get. The next time we are criticized, we will be even less bothered by it. We don’t want to react with aversion because we have seen how dangerous and painful it is for our hearts. We no longer attach to things that allow anger to arise.
All criticism, abuse and condemnation can be looked on as not-self. Contemplate these things according to their true nature, that they are impermanent, suffering and not under self control. We can see these three characteristics of all experience. We cannot control things. Other people are not us and not under our control.
We have no power over the sound that comes out of other peoples’ mouths. People are composed of the four elements. If someone is alive, they talk and gossip. Only the dead do not talk. The sound of talking cannot be controlled. This is a logical fact. Criticism and gossip are just conventional forms of expression.
If someone criticizes us as being a bad person when we have been good, why get indignant? We can just carry on doing the right thing. But if we have actually done something wrong and someone points that out, then we shouldn’t get upset. They are pointing out a true fault. When we see they are right, think of them as our teachers. When they point out our shortcomings, they want us to improve, so we can be a better person. Why be angry at them?
Unfortunately, people don’t want to look at themselves. They always think they are right, having the attitude that they are better than others. If anyone disagrees with them they become furious. If we really are right, then continue acting correctly, doing what’s right even through criticisms. The more good acts we can do, the less we will incline to anger.
If we are actually misbehaving and people point that out, then we should accept that criticism so as to improve and mature. We should aim at self-development. If
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someone helps to point out areas in which we can grow, then have appreciation instead of sulking about it. A parent should teach a child by example and practice non-anger if they want their child to also be composed and not easily angered. The child will emulate the parent and improve their behavior.
When we say or do something wrong, we are often disappointed with our so called inadequacies. We are frustrated with ourselves because of the fault finding mind. As a result, we are not in the right frame of mind to meditate peacefully. If we observe this situation with awareness and wise consideration, we will see that it as obviously unskillful. That anger has many disadvantages and ill effects, and is due to lack of self-awareness will become evident.
There is no happiness in anger. At all times it only brings affliction and suffering to us and others. With enough self-awareness and wisdom, one can see that anger is suffering, a self inflicted pain. It burns the mind every moment that it is present. At such times there can be no contentment whatsoever.
Who could possibly consider anger as good? Just view its effect on our minds and hearts to see the damage it causes! Then it is easy to see that we have been in a state of suffering for a long, long time. It can persist until our last breath and then continue to saddle us in future lives as well. This can be of no use at all. If everyone understood the harm caused by anger using the clear understanding of Dhamma, then we would all give it up and live with light hearts and minds.
In the case of a quarrelsome couple, they should refrain from behaving impulsively, on the spur of the moment. Instead, they should wait until the situation calms down. Then they can sit down together and talk reasonably. This is true for parents and children as well. When anger begins to arise, parents should compose themselves for a moment before saying anything to their children, and then advise them calmly.
Actually, everyone should be treated this way whether its great-grandparents, grand- parents, parents, children, brothers and sisters, and friends. When anger occurs, the emotion should be allowed to cool down before acting. Try to be patient and hum- ble. Don’t express unskillful feelings. Have forbearance. Don’t show your negativity through facial expressions. Instead of scrunching our eyebrows together, we can smile, or at least look at the other person without saying anything nasty or expressing our emotions. Be calm. If we can be equanimous in the face of difficulties, then we will be happy.
If we reduce and then abandon anger, we will all live together in peace and har- mony, whatever our race, creed, sex or religion. The whole of society can live in hap- piness. If we remove aversion from the mind we will be blessed with contentment and serenity. We will experience a cool refreshing ease of the mind at all times. We won’t be walking around with a pulled face and a frown, but rather be joyous and cheerful. This is the reflection of a blissful mind. It is the result of the conquest of anger. Each one of us should strive to overcome anger so it can never poison us again.
Actually, we don’t have that much anger in our hearts that it can’t be overcome. Anger however, has an inflammable quality, so it can easily flare up. We must have
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large reserves of patience. We can see by observing others that once anger grows into rage it can lead to physical abuse, conflicts, and great suffering. Nobody really wants to experience pain themselves or to cause others pain. No sensible person wants to torment themselves or others.
Pain is a direct consequence of anger. If we don’t let go of it, then revenge festers. Fights and even murders can result. The perpetrator will then also suffer the conse- quences in their next life. Now that is suffering! If we intend to kill others, they will come back and kill us! We reap what we sow. Sorrow starts from simple, unchecked emotions: someone got upset, felt their sense of indignation was justified, and then got carried away. That is how violent acts occur.
We should learn how to quell our anger. We need to tackle it before it arises. Devel- oping mindfulness and wisdom is the way to do so. With patience and humility, we can improve, little by little. Gradually we will become more aware and will be able to prevent being overcome by anger.
We can abate the cause of anger just as we can abate the cause of a fire. If just one match is lit, it is both simple and quick to put out. Don’t let the fire get to the stage of destroying a house, property or even a city. By not adding fuel, the fire dies by itself. Preventing anger is just like preventing a fire. Whenever anger flares, we put it out right away through patience and humility. But we have to be extremely mindful so as to see unpleasant feeling as it arises before it develops into anger, resentment or pain. If we can do that, all of us, family, friends or whoever, will live a happily.
If we want to live together in peace and solidarity in society, we can all learn to work together harmoniously, intelligently, and with kindness. We need to learn to be aware of each other’s characters and to easily forgive and forget. We should always have benevolence and kindness in our hearts and look at each other with smiling, happy faces, speak to each other using kind, gentle words, and think in friendly, generous ways. This positive outlook is something we practice and develop throughout our lives.
When we base our life in goodwill and kindness, then all human beings, no matter what their circumstances, can live on this same planet Earth in happiness. Should they suffer, we wish them freedom from suffering. If they are happy, we wish their happiness to continue. We focus our every word and deed on goodness. As we do this, we begin to experience great calm and peace. When we learn to think and act wisely, we can live happily. If others are still appear to act unwisely, we can be happy anyway, and learn to share our happiness with them.
We have understood that anger arises because of the defilements of aversion and clinging just as greed arises because of the defilement of sensuality. The problem is to overcome these defilements. Not understanding the problem is delusion. We must abandon these defilements and strive for goodwill and kindness. Then we will live happy lives. The Lord Buddha said that anyone who can give up anger will live a happy and joyful life. He went on to say that anyone who abandons anger can stand, walk, sit or sleep anywhere without sorrow, living with physical and mental joy.
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So let’s summarize the ways to abandon anger. First, we can just walk away from a situation or the person who is provoking angry feelings before we speak or act un- skillfully. Second, we can watch and learn from the people around us to understand their habits and characters. Next, we can learn our own habitual anger patterns, to see which gestures, words, and thoughts bring us to losing our temper. Also, make the effort to analyze oneself and others as described. Then with greater understanding, we will see how useless anger is. We will see how it only bestows unhappiness. Then as intelligent beings, we will be able to abandon it. As we succeed in this, our minds will know peace.
After hearing this teaching of the Lord Buddha, we must remember to apply this Dhamma in daily practice. In what we think, say or do. This way we can completely rid ourselves of anger and learn to live joyfully.
I wish all of you well. Before you heard this Dhamma today, you may have lived with resentment filling your hearts. Now we have comprehended that anger is a com- pletely unwholesome quality. Thus if we are able to follow these teachings and aban- don anger in our daily lives, we will all live comfortably and at peace. Please try to do this.
I have been speaking for an appropriate length of time. It is time to end.

Developing Brahma Viharas | Ajahn Dtun

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Developing Brahma Viharas | Ajahn Dtun
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This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Dtun Thiracitto and is titled “Developing the Brahma Viharas”. In addition to discussing the divine emotions and how to develop them, this talk also deals with questions relating to body contemplation and contemplations on death as a means of developing the mind.

This was a talk given as part of a meditation retreat for lay people in Australia. It was first published as part of the book “This is the Path” which was sponsored by the Katanyuta group of Malaysia, Singapore and Australia. You can find links to the original text in the description below.


Developing the Brahma Viharas

We have all come together here to keep precepts, to develop meditation and to cultivate wisdom in our hearts. This intention is something very hard to find in the minds of people in this present day. When we have mindfulness and wisdom, we can see the harm there is in acting in unskillful ways and doing things which transgress the precepts. In keeping the five precepts, always maintaining them in one’s daily life, one will come to see the benefit of the precepts. Within the heart of each person there has to be a moral conscience, along with a fear and dread of the consequences of one’s unwholesome actions. The maintaining of the five precepts is considered as being a quality of a consummate human being. People who do not keep the five precepts can be considered as not being truly human, since the least humans can do is to keep these precepts.
When we have this sense of moral conscience and a dread of the consequences of our actions, it truly elevates our minds – it is like having the mind of a devata, or a celestial being. And when we wish to further develop and cultivate our minds, we should then practice the Brahma Vihāras, or the four sublime states, nurturing them in our hearts: firstly, having mettā or loving kindness; secondly, karunā or compassion; thirdly, muditā or sympathetic joy; fourthly, upekkhā or equanimity. All these are the states of mind or properties of a Brahma.1
Having loving kindness, mettā, means that we have friend- liness and kindness towards our friends as well as all living beings, not wishing to harm or hurt them, or to take the life of any being.
Compassion, karunā, is the quality that arises when we see other people, animals or any kind of beings experiencing suffering. If we are able to help them, we try to do so with the best of our ability, according to our level of mindfulness and wisdom. This means that we have an attitude of kindness and the wish to help one another.
The quality of sympathetic joy, muditā, means that if we see any person experiencing happiness, we as a consequence, are happy for them. We feel happy too, having no envy or jealousy for the happy person, because in reality we all wish for happiness and so when we see other people experiencing happiness, we are happy for them and feel pleasure too.
As for the quality of equanimity, upekkhā, if we see other beings or animals experiencing suffering or hardship and we are unable to be of assistance, we must then let the mind rest with equanimity by feeling neither happy nor unhappy with the situation.
In our daily life, as we experience things, we can develop and cultivate these qualities of loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity, as appropriate to the situation. These are the qualities that nourish the heart, bringing about continual peace, happiness, coolness and tranquility. This peacefulness and happiness will create the conditions for one to have the mindfulness and wisdom to clearly see the suffering in one’s own life, and therefore look for the way and the practice that will enable one to let go of this suffering.
Therefore in observing the five precepts (the main quality of a human being), having this moral conscience and dread of the consequences of our bad actions (the property of a celestial being) and having these four Bramha Vihāras, (the state of mind of a Brahma god), all of these qualities when they are combined with our practice of developing sīla, samādhi and pañña (virtue, concentration and wisdom) will help us in developing correct view. As a consequence, when one dies, one’s heart will not drop into a lower, unfortunate realm. There will only be continuous growth and development taking place in one’s mind. Happiness and benefit will arise, as a result, both in this present life as well as in one’s future lives.
Therefore I ask all of you to have the confidence to go about performing virtuous deeds.
If anybody has any questions, please feel free to ask.

You have spoken a lot about training the mind and you have made some reference to the heart. How do the heart and the mind work together in meditation and in life?
Actually these two words have the same meaning. The Pali word is citta. Sometimes we use the word ‘mind’ and sometimes the word ‘heart’. We are just making use of conventional language. Some may use the word ‘mind’ and others the word ‘heart’, but they are talking about the same thing. Except for when we are talking about the contents of the mind, or the heart, then the heart and the mind are one thing, but their contents are another thing.

Since ordaining, what and how much have you studied? How much reading and studying do you recommend for others?

Since beginning the practice, I have mainly just studied this body and mind. As for reading, I have hardly done any and I do not recommend a lot of formal Dhamma study. It is not necessary, whereas bhāvanā (meditation practice) is necessary. If you can use reading as a means for making the mind peaceful, that is fine. For example, if the mind will not settle down, maybe reading a few pages of an appropriate book will help to make it calm. But then, go back to meditation. If you do too much theoretical study, this can become an obstacle for developing meditation. While sitting, the mind may start to wonder if this is upacāra samādhi (access concentration) or jhāna (meditative absorption). The mind tries to compare the present experience with what has been studied in the scriptures and this can hinder insight or prevent the mind from deepening in calmness.
However I do recommend reading the biographies of the Forest meditation masters, as it can be both inspirational and educational to see how they practiced and how they lived their lives.

How essential is body contemplation? Didn’t the Venerable Ajahn Chah teach ‘letting go’?
It is essential to investigate the body to see the mind clearly. Sometimes people take Luang Por Chah’s teachings from the end of the path and forget about the instructions for the beginning. If one has not passed beyond all attachment to the body, it is impossible to clearly investigate the mind. The investigation of citta and dhamma satipatthānas (the four foundations of mindfulness: the body, feelings, mind and dhammas) is the path of practice for anāgāmis. Before that, they can be investigated, but only superficially. Sometimes you hear people say, ‘Kilesas are in the mind, not in the body, so it is the mind that should be contemplated.’ But it is only by passing beyond attachment to the body that the other khandhas (the five physical and mental components of personality:
body, feeling, memory, thinking and consciousness) become clear. Without investigating the body as elements, as asubha, as thirty- two parts, one will not be able to realize sotāpanna. Even those with great pāramī, such as Luang Por Tate and Luang Ta Mahā Boowa, had to go through the body to realize the path.
It is important to note that in the higher ordination ceremony to become a Buddhist monk, the preceptor must instruct the candidate for ordination on the five principal objects of meditation: hair, body hair, nails, teeth and skin. To not give this instruction invalidates the whole ordination. And why? Because the Lord Buddha knew that by not instructing a candidate on such an essential topic would be the cause for those persons Holy-Life to be unfruitful, or more precisely, they will not realize the noble paths to awakening, their fruitions, nor Nibbāna.

How deep can one go with the practice of being mindful in daily life?
Being continuously aware of mental objects throughout the day is an essential support for one’s meditation practice, but it is samādhi that gives sati (mindfulness) the strength to be firmly established. If we are mindful throughout the day, letting go of mental objects as they arise, then when we sit in meditation, the mind becomes deeply peaceful more easily. However, this kind of awareness and letting go is like trimming the branches of a tree: no matter how much you trim them, they keep growing again. To uproot the tree altogether, you have to uproot the attachment and identification with the body as ‘me’ or ‘mine’. I experimented with simply watching mental objects for a while: one day attraction to sense objects would arise and I would focus my awareness upon it, causing the delight to cease. But the next day, there would be delight with other objects. There is no end to it. However, with body contemplation, it comes to an end.

When I have recommended body contemplation to others, some answered: “That is only one valid way of practice, but other ways are equally good. To say that only one way will lead to path attainment is narrow-minded. Luang por Chah taught to practice more openly and broadly than that, using reflections such as ‘Don’t attach’ or ‘It’s not sure.’” How would you answer this, Ajahn?
If I did not feel the people were open and receptive to being taught, I would not say much at all. It is easier to remove a mountain than to change people’s attachment to their views. In twenty or thirty years you can gradually blow up a huge mountain, but people’s views can remain steadfastly fixed for a lifetime, many lifetimes. Those who say body contemplation is a narrow path, are themselves trapped in narrow thinking. In truth, body contemplation is very broad and leads to great freedom due to true insight.
From my experience and from seeing the results of others in their practice, to realize Dhamma, to attain at least sotāpanna, is impossible without thoroughly and deeply uprooting the identification with the body. Even the likes of Luang Pu Tate and Luang Ta Mahā Boowa, monks with enormous pāramī and refined awareness throughout the day, had to go back and contemplate the body before they realized the Dhamma. It is not enough to do it just a few times either. The great Forest teachers had to contemplate over and over. They would then get results in accordance with their pāramī and effort. It is not enough simply to be aware of postures of the body. You must train yourself to be an expert at seeing the body as asubha (not beautiful). When one who has mastered this sees other people, especially someone of the opposite sex, the asubha perception is immediately brought up to counter any kilesas that appear. The body must be
repeatedly broken up into parts or deeply seen as impermanent for real insight to arise. It is possible to realize the first stage of the path through contemplating the death of one’s own body. When mastered, body contemplation is amazing and wonderful in all sorts of ways – not narrow at all. Wherever Luang Pu Mun went, he would rely on body contemplation to keep his heart light and at ease
There are many monks with a lot of pāramī who claim that their mind is continually light and bright, that kilesas do not arise at all or only in subtle ways and that Dhamma is clear to them. They claim that they see everything arising and passing away and that they do not attach to any of it – so they do not see any need to investigate the body. However, this is just samādhi, being stuck in samādhi, being attached to a self-image of being enlightened, of being someone who understands Dhamma. But they are still stuck in saṁsāra without anything preventing them from falling into lower realms in the future. Kilesas are very tricky, very clever. If you look at the practice of truly enlightened people, you will see that they all followed the path of body contemplation.
Luang Por Chah himself practiced this way. He taught asubha practice – especially investigation of hair, body hair, nails, teeth and skin or seeing the body as a rotten corpse – but he would teach this more in private to specific individuals. Publicly he tended not to emphasize it as much as some of the other Forest teachers. I think this was because he saw that the majority of people were not ready for it. They still needed to work with general mindfulness as a base for developing samādhi, so he taught general ‘letting go’. It is not correct to say that Luang Por Chah did not teach body contemplation.
If the mind is not concentrated, body contemplation will only be superficial. However, it is still necessary to become acquainted with it from the beginning. Then gradually nimittas (images and
perceptions of the asubha, anicca, dukkha, anattā nature of the body) will arise.

When should one investigate one’s own body and when the body of others?
In the beginning, it is usually easier to contemplate the bodies of others because there is so much upādāna (clinging or attachment) bound up in our relationship with our own body. However, having become skilled with external contemplation (e.g. through looking at skeletons or seeing others as skeletons), you bring it back into your own body. If you already have nimittas (mental images/ visions) of your own body, there is no need to look at the bodies of others. Going to an autopsy has much less impact on the mind than internal nimittas.

How does one know when one has enough samādhi (concentration) for contemplating the body?
Samādhi is the fundamental support upon which wisdom is developed. When developing concentration, bring your awareness to focus upon a meditation object that you feel comfortable with, without having any expectation or desire for results. Make the mind as calm as you can without having any thoughts as to what degree of concentration you have achieved: ‘Is this the first or second jhāna…?’ Believe me, there are no signs that come up and tell you, so don’t look for any. If you are able to make your mind peaceful, then allow the mind to rest in that peace. When the mind starts to withdraw from this peaceful state, the thinking process will gradually resume. It is at this moment that we can take up the body for contemplation instead of allowing the mind to think aimlessly. Some meditators are not able to make their mind quite as peaceful as this, but still they are able to contemplate upon the body.

Actually, the easiest way to see if you have sufficient concentration is by simply trying to contemplate. If your mindfulness is firm enough to keep the mind on its object of reflection, without it wandering away with any passing thoughts, then this shows one has sufficient concentration, or the strength of mind for the work of contemplating. If, however, the mind keeps straying off with all kinds of thoughts, then this clearly shows the mind is not yet strong enough to be put to work. One must then return to further developing concentration to help strengthen one’s mindfulness.
Developing concentration is no different to an athlete that has to do weight training to make their body strong. They start off with light weights and as they become stronger gradually move up to heavier weights. Likewise, the meditator frequently practices sitting and walking meditation to develop strong mindfulness and concentration in order to have the strength of mind needed for contemplation.
Alternatively, you could compare developing concentration to the act of sharpening a kitchen knife. Having sharpened one’s knife, one takes some vegetables or meat that requires cutting. If the knife cuts through the food with great ease and little effort, this tells one that the knife is sharp enough for the task at hand. But if cutting the food requires great effort, with many attempts, one will conclude that the knife isn’t up to the task, and so one should re-sharpen it. Developing concentration is just the same. If one’s samādhi is strong, it is comparable to a sharp knife. When one comes to contemplate the body, the mind will cut incisively into its object of contemplation, enabling the mind to clearly see and understand that object. However, if one’s attempt at contemplating proves to be a difficult struggle due to the mind not accepting its given task, or there are still too many unrelated thoughts moving through the mind, then this clearly shows that one’s mindfulness and concentration are lacking in strength. One must therefore strengthen them by further developing concentration; that is, we sharpen the knife again. Always remember that if all you ever do is sharpen your knife but never use it, that knife is of no real use. However, if all you ever do is use your knife but never re-sharpen it, then ultimately that knife will also be of no use to you either.

Could you please explain death contemplation, like how to do it and how often? Can one realize the Dhamma by death contemplation, and if so, up to what stage?
Regarding the practice itself, we may consider death many times a day, depending upon the time and opportunity, but at the very least we should contemplate death once a day. This can even be done in daily life. For example, if we are traveling in a car and we seen an animal which has been run over, laying dead at the side of the road, we will see that it is made of flesh and bones and other different things and that it will eventually decompose and break apart. Then we can turn this contemplation inward to oneself, one’s own body, realizing that we are of the very same nature. If a friend or relative were to die and one attended their funeral, we should not go thinking that it is a party where we will meet up with old friends. We should think of the life of this dead person, think of the course their life had taken and see that ultimately they have ended up in this state. They are going to be buried in the ground or burnt to ashes. Some people are older than we are, others are younger, and still they die. So we must come back and contemplate ourselves and realize that ultimately we will end up the same – awaiting burial or ready to be burnt.
We contemplate death so as to remember not to be heedless in our lives, therefore attempting to develop and practice virtue to its utmost for as long as we still have life. So, in the course of our practice of keeping precepts, developing virtue, meditation and wisdom in our minds, if we include death contemplation and we give it a lot of emphasis, we shall be able to know and see the Dhamma to the level of sotāpanna, the first stage of enlightenment, without having to contemplate the thirty two parts of the body, the loathsomeness of the body, or the four elements of the body. However, if we wish to go on to a higher attainment, we must revert to contemplating either the thirty-two parts of the body, the loathsomeness of the body, or the four elements.
There was a time when I was still a layman, when I contemplated upon death. This actually hastened my coming to ordain. I thought that if I continued my studies and then started a career, if it happened that I should suddenly die, either due to sickness or accident, I would not have developed virtue and goodness to any real extent. There was this fear that if death came to me, I would not have done enough wholesome deeds, or cultivated enough virtue in my life. So finally, having reflected upon my life like this, and having previously given the possibility of future ordination some thought, it happened that all by coincidence, late one evening, I picked up a Dhamma book that opened at the last words of the Buddha. The Buddha said, ‘Take heed monks, I caution you thus: all things that arise are of a nature to cease. Therefore, strive on ceaselessly, discerning and alert both for your own benefit and the benefit of others.’ Reading this, and contemplating its meaning, I decided to renounce the lay life and come to ordain.
Once ordained I was very resolute, extremely determined in my practice. Everyday I would consider death, at least once. The contemplation of death and making this awareness very real within my mind was something that I firmly established. Sometimes in the morning when I awoke, I would think to myself, ‘So I have still not died’ and then just tell myself that I would only have life for this one day and one night. For example, if I was going to take my rest at 10 p.m., then that is when I would die – at 10 p.m.; or if I was going to take my rest at 11 p.m., then I would die at 11 p.m. This is something which really stimulates the mind to get energetic about the practice. In those days at Wat Pah Pong they would ring the morning bell at three in the morning and we would have morning chanting at either 3.30 or 4 a.m. depending on whether we had sitting meditation before or after the chanting. And in the evenings there was a meeting that started at 7 p.m. However, I wished to profit from the situation, so I got up at 2 a.m. and I contemplated and focused upon death until there was a clear awareness of it present in my heart.
In those days I did not take a rest during the day. We came together in the mornings to sit in meditation as a group, but the time outside of that was free time for individual practice which, for myself, I would use by alternating between sitting and walking meditation. Normally I would take a rest at 10 p.m., just resting for four hours. Some days I rested at 11 p.m. and would wake up at 3 a.m. In those days at Wat Pah Pong, on the Uposatha2 we would practice throughout the night, standing, walking or sitting in meditation, without lying down.
This is the way I used to practice meditation about eighty percent of the time. Another ten percent was when I was even more diligent in my practice, I would only take two or three hours rest at night. And the other ten percent was when, after keeping up a period of maybe five to ten days of strenuous practice, my body would feel tired and weak, so I would take a rest in the afternoon for maybe thirty to forty minutes.
The contemplation of death made me never want to think about tomorrow. Even though, when I first ordained, there were still thoughts about the future, there was always this awareness reminding my heart that I may die tonight, so what is the point of thinking about tomorrow? Such thoughts bring us back to the present moment. As a consequence, the mind’s proliferation about
the future – tomorrow, next week, next month and so on – gradually slows down and lessens till eventually we just have mindfulness firmly established in the present moment.
It could be compared to having a ball which we throw against a wall. When thrown, the ball does not penetrate the wall. In our case, when we allow the mind to keep thinking off into the future would be like the ball penetrating the wall and going on and on. But if we have a strong wall, that is, the awareness of death, once the ball hits it, it just comes back, and so the mind is always coming back to the present moment.
This was the cause of my being able to make my mind quiet very easily and it was peaceful nearly all the time. Therefore I ask of all of you to develop this practice of maranānussati, death contemplation. Give it some consideration each day. The contemplation of death is not done so as to give rise to fear, but to make us heedful. In doing so, we will no longer be lost in, or deluded by the world; we are no longer heedlessly caught up in the world.

I told my mother that I would be with her, to help her when she is about to pass away. Can you please advise me as to how I can help her in her dying moments?
At this moment, while she is still alive, you should be taking the best possible care of her. In doing so you would be repaying some of your debt of gratitude to her, for she has taken great care of you right from when you were in her womb and throughout your life up until adulthood. This debt of gratitude that we have to our parents is immense. Sometimes we may try to repay it for our whole life and still be unable to fully do so.
Before I ordained, I sometimes thought that I would work and then try to financially assist my father; however, I came and ordained and so I would sometimes think, ‘How will I ever repay my debt of gratitude to my father?’ I felt that even if I was to find money, wealth and possessions to give him, I would still be unable to fully repay my debt to him. So I found a shortcut: I encouraged him to come and ordain, so that I would be able to take good care of him, meet his needs as he got older and also give advice on the Dhamma. I felt that if I could give him good advice about his Dhamma practice, this would be fully repaying my debt of gratitude to him. My father was a person who had wholesome views and a strong faith in the Buddha’s teaching, so he ordained and lived with me for sixteen years. He died about two years ago and I was able to talk to him until the very last moments. I do feel that I was able to truly repay my debt to him.
If we look for material things and wealth to repay our debt to our parents, we cannot completely repay it. The way to do so is to give the Dhamma to our parents and to set them on the right course in Dhamma practice. This is the way to repay our debt of gratitude towards them.
If you feel a sense of gratitude towards your mother, this is very good. You should take the greatest care of her. Right now, you should teach her to practice meditation. If she shows strong attachment towards her body, teach her ways to gradually let go of this attachment. Teach her to contemplate the truth that these bodies of ours are not within our command, and that it is the elements of the body going out of balance that causes aging, sickness and death to occur. She should contemplate like this to make her mind quiet, practicing as time avails. When the moment of death comes, you should instruct her to use her mindfulness and wisdom to contemplate the body so as not to attach to it, but rather just let it go on its natural course. Having made the mind be at peace, she should then focus upon her meditation object.
All of us here in this room should be practicing this contemplation of death, not leaving it until the moment of death comes. Just look at boxers: they have to train before going up into the ring for the real fight, they do not just go up there unpracticed. Athletes also
must train before competing. The same goes for us: we have to practice and get an understanding of death before death actually comes to us. Consequently, we have to practice contemplating the body and death every day.

Could you please explain all the stages of letting go of the kilesas? Also, can you please explain the state of mind of one who has attained to these stages of awakening, and what should the meditation object be for each of these stages?
To explain all this would require a lot of time, so I will just do so briefly.
We say letting go of one portion of the kilesas is the attainment of sotāpanna, one who has entered the stream; letting go of the second portion is the attainment of sakadāgāmī, the once-returner; letting go of the third portion is the attainment of anāgāmī, the non-returner; and the letting go of the fourth, and final, portion of the kilesas is the attainment of arahant, a fully enlightened being.
Now for the second part of the question: ‘Explain the state of mind of one who has attained to these states.’ A sotāpanna is one who, to some extent, has let go of attachment to the body by clearly realizing that this body is not the mind and the mind is not the body. The kilesa of greed has been lessened to some extent by the fact that one’s actions and speech will always be within the bounds of the five precepts or, if one is a monastic, within the bounds of the eight, ten or 227 precepts. Sotāpannas are content with what they already have. That does not mean that they have no interest to do anything, but rather, that they will apply their mindfulness and wisdom towards any duties, work, or responsibilities that they may have by doing them to the best of their ability. The kilesa of anger is also weakened on account of its strongest properties, that of ill-will and vindictiveness, being completely let go of – never to return. For
the sotāpanna anger will manifest in the form of dissatisfaction or displeasure. This they can let go of very quickly due to there being no residue of anger’s intensity, ill-will, remaining in their heart. Within the heart they are continually cultivating loving-kindness and forgiveness.
A sotāpanna has no fear of sickness or death for they have contemplated death before it actually comes to them. This is similar to what Ajahn Chah used to teach when he would say to see something as being broken before it actually breaks. For example, if somebody gives you a very nice cup, you have to realize that one day, sooner or later, this cup will eventually break. You know it is a very beautiful object, but at the same time you have the awareness that this cup will break someday. So you use this cup, you take good care of it, you clean it and so forth, but the day it breaks, you don’t have any feelings of sadness or regret because you had conceived the cup breaking before it actually broke. The mindfulness and wisdom of a sotāpanna works in just the same way: it sees the breaking apart, or death of the body before death actually occurs.
Also a sotāpanna will not intentionally break any of the five precepts. Suppose somebody brought a chicken or a bird, put it down beside them and tried forcing them to kill it, saying ‘If you don’t kill this bird I am going to kill you.’ The sotāpanna will choose not to kill the animal, but rather accept to be killed. This is one of the characteristics of a sotāpanna: the strong conviction that they will not do any unwholesome, immoral deeds, for they know the harm or danger that comes from performing unwholesome kamma. So this quality of keeping the five precepts is automatic or natural for them. The mental defilements that have been let go of do not come back. Laypeople can also attain to this level if they keep developing the path of virtue, concentration and wisdom. Monks have exactly the same practice: developing sīla, samādhi and pañña – virtue, concentration and wisdom.

To achieve the second level of attainment on the noble path to awakening; that is, sakadāgāmiphala, the fruition of once-returning, the path of practice is to further develop sīla, samādhi and paññā so as to let go of attachment to the body by another portion. To become a sotāpanna one may use the contemplation of death, but to realize the level of sakadāgāmī one’s contemplation and investigation have to be more refined by either contemplating the thirty-two parts of the body or using the asubha reflections on the loathsomeness or unattractiveness of the body. At this second level of path development, one’s mindfulness and wisdom need to see and understand the body more clearly so as to enable the mind to let go of a more refined degree of attachment and clinging towards one’s self. For the sakadāgāmī, greed and anger have been further weakened. For example, anger will manifest in a subtle form of dissatisfaction. It will arise infrequently and can easily be let go of. Sometimes one may not have the time to contemplate this emotion due to it quickly ceasing all by itself. At other times, mindfulness and wisdom are able to contemplate this dissatisfaction at the very moment it arises, thus letting it go, putting it down quickly. In summary, at this second level of attainment, one has let go of one more portion of greed and anger, due to the lessening of one’s deluded attachment to one’s self. If one is to see or realize this for oneself, one must cultivate the path of sīla, samādhi and paññā to its respective degree.
To realize the third level of attainment, that of an anāgāmī, a non-returner, one must further develop the path of sīla, samādhi and paññā. At this third level of path development, anāgāmīmagga, one’s contemplation of the body becomes even more refined, requiring one to contemplate on either the asubha reflections or upon the four elements. One’s investigation probes so deeply and subtly that one’s mindfulness and wisdom will eventually penetrate right through its meditation object to enter into the emptiness of the mind. Practicing in such a way, one’s heart will begin to develop
a very thorough understanding about the nature of the body. One can now begin to let go of the final portion of attachment towards one’s own body, for one clearly realizes that the body, be it one’s own or that of others, is merely an aggregate of earth, water, air and fire coming together temporarily. These are the two themes of investigation: asubha and the four elements. The taking of them into emptiness is what we call magga, the path, or the course of practice leading to the attainment of anāgāmīphala, the fruition of non-returning. Through frequently seeing the true nature of the body in such a subtle way, one’s heart will obtain a complete understanding about one’s own body until there will be no doubts of any kind remaining within the heart as to the body’s true nature. The body of the past is known to be merely elements; likewise, the body of the future when it breaks apart and one’s present body are also known to be merely elements that conform to the laws of nature. The mind can now uproot all remaining attachment towards the body. The bodies of other people are seen to be just four elements that comply with nature. All material objects; that is, inanimate objects without consciousness, are even more readily seen to be just combinations of the four elements that bind together temporarily in conformance with nature.
The human mind is deluded into attaching to one’s own body as being or belonging to oneself, into viewing the bodies of other people as being something beautiful or attractive, and also into considering material objects as having ownership. Consequently, greed, anger and delusion arise within one’s mind. We are therefore obliged to contemplate one’s own body so as to see its true nature of being merely the four elements that function in compliance with nature, and that the bodies of other people and all material objects are of the same exact nature. Thus all attraction and pleasure with the sensory world falls away. Greed and anger no longer exist. When the fires in one’s heart have been extinguished, only coolness will remain. There is peacefulness and coolness all through the day and night. The kilesas that have been let go of will never come back again. The mind moves down the middle, down the center, never moving to either side of attraction or aversion. The mind is not attached to anything at all in the world. Even if the world was to change into gold, or if it became a huge piece of diamond, the mind would not be moved or attracted by this, for the mind has realized the truth and knows that these things are merely the four elements. The mind is not attached to the conventions of conditioned reality. This is the state of mind of one who has attained to the level of anāgāmī.
However, an anāgāmī still has some subtle delusion remaining within the heart, in so much as they still attach to the subtle processes or modes of the mind; that is, the four mental khandas: feeling, memory, thinking and consciousness. So the practitioner must cultivate mindfulness and wisdom, to see these four khandas as being fleeting, a source of suffering or discontent, and that they are completely without any abiding essence that could be called a ‘self’. When the mind fully accepts this it will let go of its attachment towards everything within it. Even the mental formations or the thinking processes are not the mind: that which thinks is not the mind; that which does not think is the mind. The purity of heart that has gradually increased, stage by stage, by eliminating all traces of greed, anger and delusion from within the mind, will at this point, completely and permanently suffuse the heart of the practitioner. Letting go of this final portion of the defilements is what is called arahattaphala or the attainment of arahantship.
It is only for the first three levels of attainment that one must contemplate the body. Body contemplation is a truly amazing practice. It can give rise to many marvelous natural phenomena or conditions arising within the mind. For example, sometimes seeing the whole body as just being a pile of earth (earth element), or seeing the whole body as being a flowing stream of water (water element). These natural phenomena may arise in the mind in many,
many forms. Those who have mindfulness and wisdom will be wise to the truths that these phenomena reveal.
When people start contemplating the body, some may have a natural inclination for contemplating the loathsomeness of the body. They may be able to see the people in this room as corpses in various stages of decomposition, or see everybody as skeletons. Sometimes when other people are seen, they will completely break apart, separating out into pieces, only then to reconstruct themselves back into their original form – before one’s very eyes. These are just some of the natural phenomena that arise within the mind of one who is cultivating the contemplation of the loathsomeness of the body.
For one whose practice is at the level of arahattamagga, the course of practice leading to arahantship, these amazing states will not arise because their practice is to cultivate a very refined degree of mindfulness and wisdom so as to give up the subtle delusion that still remains within the mind. We could compare one who has attained the third level of anāgāmī as having filtered dirty water to make it clean whereas the arahant filters clean water to make it pure. They have made their own heart pure. This is what the Buddha called the ‘Dhamma element’ – the absolute purity of mind. The Buddha said, ‘There is no happiness greater than peace’, meaning the peace experienced within a heart freed from all greed, anger and delusion.
Ok then, that’s probably enough for tonight.

About Being Careful | Ajahn Chah

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
About Being Careful | Ajahn Chah
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This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Chah and is titled “About Being Careful” . It was first publish as part of the book “The Collected Teachings of Ajahn Chah” which is made available by Aruna Publications. You can find links to the original text in the description below.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

More information about this episode can be found on the Forest Path Podcast website.

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


ABOUT BEING CAREFUL



THE BUDDHA TAUGHT TO SEE the body in the body. What does this mean? We are all familiar with the parts of the body such as hair, nails, teeth and skin. So how do we see the body in the body? If we recognize all these things as being impermanent, unsatisfactory and not-self, that’s what is called `seeing the body in the body’. Then it isn’t necessary to go into detail and meditate on the separate parts. It’s like having fruit in a basket. If we have already counted the pieces of fruit, then we know what’s there, and when we need to, we can pick up the basket and take it away, and all the pieces come with it. We know the fruit is all there, so we don’t have to count it again.
Having meditated on the thirty-two parts of the body, and recognized them as something not stable or permanent, we no longer need to weary ourselves separating them like this and meditating in such detail; just as we don’t have to dump all the fruit out of the basket and count it again and again. But we do carry the basket along to our destination, walking mindfully and carefully, taking care not to stumble and fall.

When we see the body in the body, which means we see the Dhamma in the body, knowing our own and others’ bodies as impermanent phenomena, we don’t need detailed explanations. Sitting here, we have mindfulness constantly in control, knowing things as they are. Meditation then becomes quite simple. It’s the same if we meditate on Buddho1  if we understand what Buddho really is, we don’t need to repeat the word `Buddho’. It means having full knowledge and rm awareness. This is meditation.
Still, meditation is generally not well understood. We practise in a group, but we often don’t know what it’s all about. Some people think medi- tation is really hard to do. `I come to the monastery, but I can’t sit. I don’t have much endurance. My legs hurt, my back aches, I’m in pain all over.’ So they give up on it and don’t come anymore, thinking they can’t do it.
But in fact samadhi is not sitting. Samadhi isn’t walking. It isn’t lying down or standing. Sitting, walking, closing the eyes, opening the eyes, these are all mere actions. Having your eyes closed doesn’t necessarily mean you’re practising samadhi. It could just mean that you’re drowsy and dull. If you’re sitting with your eyes closed but you’re falling asleep, your head bobbing all over and your mouth hanging open, that’s not sitting in samadhi. It’s sitting with your eyes closed. Samadhi and closed eyes are two separate matters. Real samadhi can be practised with eyes open or eyes closed. You can be sitting, walking, standing or lying down.
Samadhi means the mind is rmly focused, with all-encompassing mindfulness, restraint, and caution. You are constantly aware of right and wrong, constantly watching all conditions arising in the mind. When it shoots o to think of something, having a mood of aversion or longing, you are aware of that. Some people get discouraged: `I just can’t do it. As soon as I sit, my mind starts thinking of home. That’s evil (Thai: bahp)’. Hey! If just that much is evil, the Buddha never would have become Buddha. He spent ve years struggling with his mind, thinking of his home and his family. It was only after six years that he awakened.
So, some people feel that these sudden arisings of thought are wrong
or evil. You may have an impulse to kill someone. But you are aware of it in the next instant, you realize that killing is wrong, so you stop and refrain. Is there harm in this? What do you think? Or if you have a thought about stealing something and that is followed by a stronger recollection that to do so is wrong, and so you refrain from acting on it  is that bad kamma It’s not that every time you have an impulse you instantly accumulate bad kamma. Otherwise, how could there be any way to liberation? Impulses are merely impulses. Thoughts are merely thoughts. In the rst instance, you haven’t created anything yet. In the second instance, if you act on it with body, speech or mind, then you are creating something. Avijja has taken control. If you have the impulse to steal and then you are aware of yourself and aware that this would be wrong, this is wisdom, and there is vijja instead. The mental impulse is not consummated.
This is timely awareness, wisdom arising and informing our experience. If there is the rst mind-moment of wanting to steal something and then we act on it, that is the dhamma of delusion; the actions of body, speech and mind that follow the impulse will bring negative results.
This is how it is. Merely having the thoughts is not negative kamma. If we don’t have any thoughts, how will wisdom develop? Some people simply want to sit with a blank mind. That’s wrong understanding.
I’m talking about samadhi that is accompanied by wisdom. In fact, the Buddha didn’t wish for a lot of samadhi. He didn’t want jhana and samapatti. He saw samadhi as one component factor of the path. Sla, samadhi and paÒÒa are components or ingredients, like ingredients used in cooking. We use spices in cooking to make food tasty. The point isn’t the spices themselves, but the food we eat. Practising samadhi is the same. The Buddha’s teachers, Uddaka and Alara, put heavy emphasis on practising the jhana, and attaining various kinds of powers like clairvoyance. But if you get that far, it’s hard to undo. Some places teach this deep tranquillity, to sit with delight in quietude. The meditators then get intoxicated by their samadhi. If they have sla, they get intoxicated by their sla. If they walk the path, they become intoxicated by the path, dazzled by the beauty and wonders they experience, and they don’t reach the real destination.
The Buddha said that this is a subtle error. Still, it’s correct for those on a coarse level. But actually what the Buddha wanted was for us to have an appropriate measure of samadhi, without getting stuck there. After we train in and develop samadhi, then samadhi should develop wisdom.
Samadhi that is on the level of samatha  tranquillity  is like a rock covering grass. In samadhi that is sure and stable, even when the eyes are opened, wisdom is there. When wisdom has been born, it encompasses and knows (`rules’) all things. So the Teacher did not want those rened levels of concentration and cessation, because they become a diversion and then one forgets the path.
So it is necessary not to be attached to sitting or any other particu- lar posture. Samadhi doesn’t reside in having the eyes closed, the eyes open, or in sitting, standing, walking or lying down. Samadhi pervades all postures and activities. Older persons, who often can’t sit very well, can contemplate especially well and practise samadhi easily; they too can develop a lot of wisdom.
How is it that they can develop wisdom? Everything is rousing them. When they open their eyes, they don’t see things as clearly as they used to. Their teeth give them trouble and fall out. Their bodies ache most of the time. Just that is the place of study. So really, meditation is easy for old folks. Meditation is hard for youngsters. Their teeth are strong, so they can enjoy their food. They sleep soundly. Their faculties are intact and the world is fun and exciting to them, so they get deluded in a big way. When the old ones chew on something hard they’re soon in pain. Right there the devaduta2 are talking to them; they’re teaching them every day. When they open their eyes their sight is fuzzy. In the morning their backs ache.
In the evening their legs hurt. That’s it! This is really an excellent subject to study. Some of you older people will say you can’t meditate. What do you want to meditate on? Who will you learn meditation from?
This is seeing the body in the body and sensation in sensation. Are you seeing these or are you running away? Saying you can’t practise because you’re too old is only due to wrong understanding. The question is, are things clear to you? Elderly persons have a lot of thinking, a lot of sensation, a lot of discomfort and pain. Everything appears! If they meditate, they can really testify to it. So I say that meditation is easy for old folks. They can do it best. Everyone says `When I’m old, I’ll go to the monastery.’ If you understand this, it’s true all right. You have to see it within yourself. When you sit, it’s true; when you stand up, it’s true; when you walk, it’s true. Everything is a hassle, everything is presenting obstacles  and everything is teaching you. Isn’t this so? Can you just get up and walk away so easily now? When you stand up, it’s `Oy!’ Or haven’t you noticed? And it’s `Oy!’ when you walk. It’s prodding you.
When you’re young you can just stand up and walk, going on your way. But you don’t really know anything. When you’re old, every time you stand up it’s `Oy!’ Isn’t that what you say? `Oy! Oy!’ Every time you move, you learn something. So how can you say it’s dicult to meditate? Where else is there to look? It’s all correct. The devaduta are telling you something. It’s most clear. Sankhara are telling you that they are not stable or permanent, not you or yours. They are telling you this every moment.
But we think dierently. We don’t think that this is right. We entertain wrong view and our ideas are far from the truth. But actually, old people can see impermanence, suering and lack of self, and give rise to dispassion and disenchantment  because the evidence is right there within them all the time. I think that’s good.
Having the inner sensitivity that is always aware of right and wrong is called Buddho. It’s not necessary to be continually repeating `Buddho’. You’ve counted the fruit in your basket. Every time you sit down, you don’t have to go to the trouble of spilling out the fruit and counting it again. You can leave it in the basket. But someone with mistaken attachment will keep counting. He’ll stop under a tree, spill it out and count, and put it back in the basket. Then he’ll walk on to the next stopping place and do it again. But he’s just counting the same fruit. This is craving itself. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t count, there will be some mistake. We are afraid that if we don’t keep saying `Buddho’, we’ll be mistaken. How are we mistaken? Only the person who doesn’t know how much fruit there is needs to count. Once you know, you can take it easy and just leave it in the basket. When you’re sitting, you just sit. When you’re lying down, you just lie down because your fruit is all there with you.
By practising virtue and creating merit, we say, `Nibbana paccayo hotu‘, (may it be a condition for realizing Nibbana). As a condition for realizing Nibbana, making oerings is good. Keeping precepts is good. Practising meditation is good. Listening to Dhamma teachings is good. May they become conditions for realizing Nibbana.
But what is Nibbana all about anyway? Nibbana means not grasping. Nibbana means not giving meaning to things. Nibbana means letting go. Making oerings and doing meritorious deeds, observing moral precepts, and meditating on loving-kindness: all these are for getting rid of dele- ments and craving, for not wishing for anything, not wishing to be, or become anything; for making the mind empty  empty of self-cherishing, empty of concepts of self and other.
Nibbana paccayo hotu: make it become a cause for Nibbana. Practising generosity is giving up, letting go. Listening to teachings is for the purpose of gaining knowledge to give up and let go, to uproot clinging to what is good and to what is bad. At rst we meditate to become aware of the wrong and the bad. When we recognize that, we give it up and we practise what is good. Then, when some good is achieved, don’t get attached to that good. Remain halfway in the good, or above the good  don’t dwell under the good. If we are under the good, then the good pushes us around, and we become slaves to it. We become slaves, and it forces us to create all sorts of kamma and demerit. It can lead us into anything, and the result will be the same kind of unhappiness and unfortunate circumstances we found ourselves in before.

Give up evil and develop merit  give up the negative and develop what is positive. Developing merit, remain above merit. Remain above merit and demerit, above good and evil. Keep on practising with a mind that is giving up, letting go and getting free. It’s the same no matter what you are doing: if you do it with a mind of letting go it is a cause for realizing Nibbana. What you do free of desire, free of delement, free of craving, all merges with the path, meaning Noble Truth, meaning saccadhamma. The Four Noble Truths are having the wisdom that knows tan. ha,2 which is the source of dukkha. Kamatanha, bhavatanha, vibhavatanha: these are the origination, the source. If you are wishing for anything or wanting to be anything, you are nourishing dukkha, bringing dukkha into existence, because this is what gives birth to dukkha. These are the causes. If we create the causes of dukkha, then dukkha will come about. The cause is vibhavatanha: this restless, anxious craving. One becomes a slave to de- sire and creates all sorts of kamma and wrongdoing because of it, and thus suering is born. Simply speaking, dukkha is the child of desire. De- sire is the parent of dukkha. When there are parents, dukkha can be born. When there are no parents, dukkha can not come about  there will be no offspring.
This is where meditation should be focused. We should see all the forms of tanha, which cause us to have desires. But talking about desire can be confusing. Some people get the idea that any kind of desire, such as desire for food and the material requisites for life, is tanha. But we can have this kind of desire in an ordinary and natural way. When you’re hungry and desire food, you can take a meal and be done with it. That’s quite ordinary. This is desire that’s within boundaries and doesn’t have ill effects. This kind of desire isn’t sensuality. If it’s sensuality, then it becomes something more than desire. There will be craving for more things to consume, seeking out favours, seeking enjoyment in ways that bring hardship and trouble, such as drinking liquor and beer.
Some tourists told me about a place where people eat live monkeys’ brains. They put a monkey in the middle of the table and cut open its skull. Then they spoon out the brain to eat. That’s eating like demons or hungry ghosts. It’s not eating in a natural or ordinary way. Doing things like this, eating becomes tanha. They say that the blood of monkeys makes them strong. So they try to get hold of such animals and when they eat them they’re drinking liquor and beer too. This isn’t ordinary eating. It’s the way of ghosts and demons mired in sensual craving. It’s eating coals, eating re, eating everything everywhere. This sort of desire is what is tanha. There is no moderation. Speaking, thinking, dressing, everything such people do goes to excess. If our eating, sleeping, and other necessary activities are done in moderation, there is no harm in them. So you should be aware of yourselves in regard to these things; then they won’t become a source of suffering. If we know how to be moderate and thrifty in our needs, we can be comfortable.
Practising meditation and creating merit and virtue are not really such difficult things to do, provided we understand them well. What is wrong- doing? What is merit? Merit is what is good and beautiful, not harming ourselves or others with our thinking, speaking, and acting. If we do this, there is happiness. Nothing negative is being created. Merit is like this. Skilfulness is like this.
It’s the same with making oerings and giving charity. When we give, what is it that we are trying to give away? Giving is for the purpose of destroying self-cherishing, the belief in a self along with selfishness. Selfishness is powerful, extreme suffering. Selfish people always want to be better than others and to get more than others. A simple example is how, after they eat, they don’t want to wash their dishes. They let someone else do it. If they eat in a group, they will leave it to the group. After they eat, they take off. This is selfishness, not being responsible, and it puts a burden on others. What it really amounts to is someone who doesn’t care about himself, who doesn’t help himself and who really doesn’t love himself. In practising generosity, we are trying to cleanse our hearts of this attitude. This is called creating merit through giving, in order to have a mind of compassion and caring towards all living beings without exception.
If we can be free of just this one thing, selfishness, then we will be like the Lord Buddha. He wasn’t out for himself, but sought the good of all. If we have the path and fruit arising in our hearts like this we can certainly progress. With this freedom from selfishness, all the activities of virtuous deeds, generosity, and meditation will lead to liberation. Whoever practises like this will become free and go beyond  beyond all convention and appearance.
The basic principles of practice are not beyond our understanding. For example, if we lack wisdom, when practising generosity, there won’t be any merit. Without understanding, we think that generosity merely means giving things. `When I feel like giving, I’ll give. If I feel like stealing something, I’ll steal it. Then if I feel generous, I’ll give something.’ It’s like having a barrel full of water. You scoop out a bucketful, and then you pour back in a bucketful. Scoop it out again, pour it in again, scoop it out and pour it in  like this. When will you empty the barrel? Can you see an end to it? Can you see such practice becoming a cause for realizing Nibbana? Will the barrel become empty? One scoop out, one scoop in  can you see when it will be finished?
Going back and forth like this is vatta, the cycle itself. If we’re talking about really letting go, giving up good as well as evil, there’s only scooping out. Even if there’s only a little bit, you scoop it out. You don’t put in anything more, and you keep scooping out. Even if you only have a small scoop to use, you do what you can and in this way the time will come when the barrel is empty. If you’re scooping out a bucket and pouring back a bucket, scooping out and then pouring back  well, think about it. When will you see an empty barrel? This Dhamma isn’t something distant. It’s right here in the barrel. You can do it at home. Try it. Can you empty a
water barrel like that? Do it all day tomorrow and see what happens. `Giving up all evil, practising what is good, purifying the mind.’ We give up wrongdoing rst, and then start to develop the good. What is the good and meritorious? Where is it? It’s like sh in the water. If we scoop all the water out, we’ll get the sh  that’s a simple way to put it. If we scoop out and pour back in, the sh remain in the barrel. If we don’t remove all forms of wrongdoing, we won’t see merit and we won’t see what is true
and right. Scooping out and pouring back, scooping out and pouring back, we only remain as we are. Going back and forth like this, we only waste our time and whatever we do is meaningless. Listening to teachings is meaningless. Making oerings is meaningless. All our eorts to practise are in vain. We don’t understand the principles of the Buddha’s way, so our actions don’t bear the desired fruit.
When the Buddha taught about practice, he wasn’t only talking about something for ordained people. He was talking about practising well, practising correctly. Supatipanno means those who practise well. Ujupatipanno means those who practise directly. Nyayapatipanno means those who prac- tise for the realization of path, fruition and Nibbana. Samcipatipanno are those who practise inclined towards truth. It could be anyone. These are the Sangha of true disciples (savaka) of the Lord Buddha. Laywomen living at home can be savaka. Laymen can be savaka. Bringing these qualities to fullfilment is what makes one a savaka. One can be a true disciple of the Buddha and realize enlightenment.
Most of us in the Buddhist fold don’t have such complete understanding. Our knowledge doesn’t go this far. We do our various activities thinking that we will get some kind of merit from them. We think that listening to teachings or making oerings is meritorious. That’s what we’re told. But someone who gives offerings to `get’ merit is making bad kamma.
You can’t quite understand this. Someone who gives in order to get merit has instantly accumulated bad kamma. If you give in order to let go and free the mind, that brings you merit. If you do it to get something, that’s bad kamma.
Listening to teachings to really understand the Buddha’s way is difficult.

The Dhamma becomes hard to understand when the practice that people do  keeping precepts, sitting in meditation, giving  is for getting something in return. We want merit, we want something. Well, if something can be obtained, who gets it? We get it. When that is lost, whose thing is it that’s lost? The person who doesn’t have something doesn’t lose anything. And when it’s lost, who suers over it?
Don’t you think that living your life to get things, brings you suffering? Otherwise you can just go on as before trying to get everything. And yet, if we make the mind empty, then we gain everything. Higher realms, Nibbana and all their accomplishments  we gain all of it. In making offerings, we don’t have any attachment or aim; the mind is empty and relaxed. We can let go and put down. It’s like carrying a log and complaining it’s heavy. If someone tells you to put it down, you’ll say, `If I put it down, I won’t have anything.’ Well, now you do have something  you have heaviness. But you don’t have lightness. So do you want lightness, or do you want to keep carrying? One person says to put it down, the other says he’s afraid he won’t have anything. They’re talking past each other.
We want happiness, we want ease, we want tranquillity and peace. It means we want lightness. We carry the log, and then someone sees us doing this and tells us to drop it. We say we can’t because what would we have then? But the other person says that if we drop it, we can get something better. The two have a hard time communicating.
If we make oerings and practise good deeds in order to get something, it doesn’t work out. What we get is becoming and birth. It isn’t a cause for realizing Nibbana. Nibbana is giving up and letting go. Trying to get, to hold on, to give meaning to things, aren’t causes for realizing Nibbana. The Buddha wanted us to look here, at this empty place of letting go. This is merit. This is skilfulness.
Once we have done practice  any sort of merit and virtue  we should feel that our part is done. We shouldn’t carry it any further. We do it for the purpose of giving up defilements and craving. We don’t do it for the purpose of creating defilements, craving and attachment. Then where will we go? We don’t go anywhere. Our practice is correct and true.

Most of us Buddhists, though we follow the forms of practice and learning, have a hard time understanding this kind of talk. It’s because Mara, meaning ignorance, meaning craving  the desire to get, to have, and to be  enshrouds the mind. We only nd temporary happiness. For example, when we are filled with hatred towards someone it takes over our minds and gives us no peace. We think about the person all the time, thinking what we can do to strike out at him. The thinking never stops. Then maybe one day we get a chance to go to his house and curse him and tell him o. That gives us some release. Does that make an end of our defilements? We found a way to let o steam and we feel better for it. But we haven’t rid ourselves of the affliction of anger, have we? There is some happiness in defilement and craving, but it’s like this. We’re still storing the defilement inside and when the conditions are right, it will are up again even worse than before. Then we will want to and some temporary release again. Do the defilements ever get finished in this way?
It’s similar when someone’s spouse or children die, or when people suffer big financial loss. They drink to relieve their sorrow. They go to a movie to relieve their sorrow. Does it really relieve the sorrow? The sorrow actually grows; but for the time being they can forget about what happened so they call it a way to cure their misery. It’s like if you have a cut on the bottom of your foot that makes walking painful. Anything that contacts it hurts and so you limp along complaining of the discomfort. But if you see a tiger coming your way, you’ll take o and start running without any thought of your cut. Fear of the tiger is much more powerful than the pain in your foot, so it’s as if the pain is gone. The fear made it something small.
You might experience problems at work or at home that seem so big. Then you get drunk and in that drunken state of more powerful delusion, those problems no longer trouble you so much. You think it solved your problems and relieved your unhappiness. But when you sober up the old problems are back. So what happened to your solution? You keep suppressing the problems with drink and they keep on coming back. You might end up with cirrhosis of the liver, but you don’t get rid of the problems; and then one day you are dead.
There is some comfort and happiness here; it’s the happiness of fools. It’s the way that fools stop their suffering. There’s no wisdom here. These different confused conditions are mixed in the heart that has a feeling of well-being. If the mind is allowed to follow its moods and tendencies, it feels some happiness. But this happiness is always storing unhappiness within it. Each time it erupts our suffering and despair will be worse. It’s like having a wound. If we treat it on the surface but inside it’s still infected, it’s not cured. It looks okay for a while, but when the infection spreads we have to start cutting. If the inner infection is never cured we can be operating on the surface again and again with no end in sight. What can be seen from the outside may look ne for a while, but inside it’s the same as before.
The way of the world is like this. Worldly matters are never finished. So the laws of the world in the various societies are constantly resolving issues. New laws are always being established to deal with different situations and problems. Something is dealt with for a while, but there’s always a need for further laws and solutions. There’s never the internal resolution, only surface improvement. The infection still exists within, so there’s always need for more cutting. People are only good on the surface, in their words and their appearance. Their words are good and their faces look kind, but their minds aren’t so good.
When we get on a train and see some acquaintance there we say, `Oh, how good to see you! I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately! I’ve been planning to visit you!’ But it’s just talk. We don’t really mean it. We’re being good on the surface, but we’re not so good inside. We say the words, but then as soon as we’ve had a smoke and taken a cup of coee with him, we split. Then if we run into him one day in the future, we’ll say the same things again: `Hey, good to see you! How have you been? I’ve been meaning to go visit you, but I just haven’t had the time.’ That’s the way it is. People are superficially good, but they’re usually not so good inside.
The great teacher taught Dhamma and Vinaya. It is complete and comprehensive. Nothing surpasses it and nothing in it need be changed or adjusted, because it is the ultimate. It’s complete, so this is where we can stop. There’s nothing to add or subtract, because it is something of the
nature not to be increased or decreased. It is just right. It is true.
So we Buddhists come to hear Dhamma teachings and study to learn these truths. If we know them, then our minds will enter the Dhamma; the Dhamma will enter our minds. Whenever a person’s mind enters the Dhamma, that person has well-being, that person has a mind at peace. The
mind then has a way to resolve difficulties, but has no way to degenerate. When pain and illness aict the body, the mind has many ways to resolve the suffering. It can resolve it naturally, understanding this as natural and not falling into depression or fear over it. Gaining something, we don’t get lost in delight. Losing it, we don’t get excessively upset, but rather we understand that the nature of all things is that having appeared, they then decline and disappear. With such an attitude we can make our way in the world. We are lokavidu, knowing the world clearly. Then samudaya, the cause of suffering, is not created, and tan. ha is not born. There is vijja, knowledge of things as they really are, and it illumines the world. It illumines praise and blame. It illumines gain and loss. It illumines rank and disrepute. It clearly illumines birth, ageing, illness, and death in the mind of the practitioner.
That is someone who has reached the Dhamma. Such people no longer struggle with life and are no longer constantly in search of solutions. They resolve what can be resolved, acting as is appropriate. That is how the Buddha taught: he taught those individuals who could be taught. Those who could not be taught he discarded and let go of. Even had he not discarded them, they were still discarding themselves  so he dropped them. You might get the idea from this that the Buddha must have been lacking in metta to discard people. Hey! If you toss out a rotten mango are you lacking in metta? You can’t make any use of it, that’s all. There was no way to get through to such people. The Buddha is praised as one with supreme wisdom. He didn’t merely gather everyone and everything together in a confused mess. He was possessed of the divine eye and could clearly see all things as they really are. He was the knower of the world.
As the knower of the world he saw danger in the round of samsara. For us who are his followers it’s the same. Knowing all things as they are will bring us well-being. Where exactly are those things that cause us to have happiness and suffering? Think about it well. They are only things that we create ourselves. Whenever we create the idea that something is us or ours, we suffer. Things can bring us harm or benefit, depending on our under- standing. So the Buddha taught us to pay attention to ourselves, to our own actions and to the creations of our minds. Whenever we have extreme love or aversion to anyone or anything, whenever we are particularly anxious, that will lead us into great suering. This is important, so take a good look at it. Investigate these feelings of strong love or aversion, and then take a step back. If you get too close, they’ll bite. Do you hear this? If you grab at and caress these things, they bite and they kick. When you feed grass to your bualo, you have to be careful. If you’re careful when it kicks out, it won’t kick you. You have to feed it and take care of it, but you should be smart enough to do that without getting bitten. Love for children, relatives, wealth and possessions will bite. Do you understand this? When you feed it, don’t get too close. When you give it water, don’t get too close. Pull on the rope when you need to. This is the way of Dhamma: recognizing impermanence, unsatisfactoriness and lack of self, recognizing the danger and employing caution and restraint in a mindful way.
Ajahn Tongrat didn’t teach a lot; he always told us, `Be really careful! Be really careful!’ That’s how he taught. `Be really careful! If you’re not really careful, you’ll catch it on the chin!’ This is really how it is. Even if he didn’t say it, it’s still how it is. If you’re not really careful, you’ll catch it on the chin. Please understand this. It’s not someone else’s concern. The problem isn’t other people loving or hating us. Others far away somewhere don’t make us create kamma and suffering. It’s our possessions, our homes, our families where we have to pay attention. Or what do you think? These days, where do you experience suffering? Where are you involved in love, hate and fear? Control yourselves, take care of yourselves. Watch out you don’t get bitten. If they don’t bite they might kick. Don’t think that these things won’t bite or kick. If you do get bitten, make sure it’s only a little bit. Don’t get kicked and bitten to pieces. Don’t try to tell yourselves there’s no danger. Possessions, wealth, fame, loved ones, all these can kick and bite if you’re not mindful.
If you are mindful you’ll be at ease. Be cautious and restrained. When the mind starts grasping at things and making a big deal out of them, you have to stop it. It will argue with you, but you have to put your foot down. Stay in the middle as the mind comes and goes. Put sensual indulgence away on one side; put self-torment away on the other side. Put love to one side, hate to the other side. Put happiness to one side, suffering to the other side. Remain in the middle without letting the mind go in either direction.
Like these bodies of ours  earth, water, re and wind  where is the person? There isn’t any person. These few different things are put together and it’s called a person. That’s a falsehood. It’s not real; it’s only real in the way of convention. When the time comes the elements return to their old state. We’ve only come to stay with them for a while so we have to let them return. The part that is earth, send back to be earth. The part that is water, send back to be water. The part that is re, send back to be re. The part that is wind, send back to be wind. Or will you try to go with them and keep something? We come to rely on them for a while; when it’s time for them to go, let them go. When they come, let them come. All these phenomena, sabhava, appear and then disappear. That’s all. We understand that all these things are owing, constantly appearing and disappearing.

Making offerings, listening to teachings, practising meditation, what- ever we do should be done for the purpose of developing wisdom. Developing wisdom is for the purpose of liberation, freedom from all these conditions and phenomena. When we are free, then no matter what our situation is, we don’t have to suffer. If we have children, we don’t have to suer. If we work, we don’t have to suffer. If we have a house, we don’t have to suer. It’s like a lotus in the water. `I grow in the water, but I don’t suer because of the water. I can’t be drowned or burned, because I live in the water.’ When the water ebbs and flows it doesn’t affect the lotus. The water and the lotus can exist together without confliict. They are together yet separate. Whatever is in the water nourishes the lotus and helps it grow into something beautiful.
It’s the same for us. Wealth, home, family, and all defilements of mind no longer dele us but rather help us develop param, the spiritual perfections. In a grove of bamboo the old leaves pile up around the trees and when the rain falls they decompose and become fertilizer. Shoots grow and the trees develop, because of the fertilizer, and we have a source of food and income. But it didn’t look like anything good at all. So be careful  in the dry season, if you set res in the forest, they’ll burn up all the future fertilizer, and the fertilizer will turn into re that burns the bamboo. Then you won’t have any bamboo shoots to eat. So if you burn the forest, you burn the bamboo fertilizer. If you burn the fertilizer, you burn the trees and the grove dies.
Do you understand? You and your families can live in happiness and harmony with your homes and possessions, free of danger from floods or fire. If a family is flooded or burned, it is only because of the people in that family. It’s just like the bamboo’s fertilizer. The grove can be burned because of it, or the grove can grow beautifully because of it.
Things will grow beautifully and then not beautifully and then become beautiful again. Growing and degenerating, then growing again and degenerating again  this is the way of worldly phenomena. If we know growth and degeneration for what they are, we can nd a conclusion to them. Things grow and reach their limit. Things degenerate and reach their limit.

But we remain constant. It’s like when there was a re in Ubon city. People bemoaned the destruction and shed a lot of tears over it. But things were rebuilt after the re and the new buildings are actually bigger and a lot better than what we had before, and people enjoy the city more now.
This is how it is with the cycles of loss and development. Everything has its limits. So the Buddha wanted us always to be contemplating. While we still live we should think about death. Don’t consider it something far away. If you’re poor, don’t try to harm or exploit others. Face the situation and work hard to help yourself. If you’re well o, don’t become forgetful in your wealth and comfort. It’s not very dicult for everything to be lost. A rich person can become a pauper in a couple of days. A pauper can become a rich person. It’s all owing to the fact that these conditions are impermanent and unstable. Thus, the Buddha said, `pamado maccuno padam. ‘: heedlessness is the way to death. The heedless are like the dead. Don’t be heedless! All beings and all sankhara are unstable and impermanent. Don’t form any attachment to them! Happy or sad, progressing or falling apart, in the end it all comes to the same place. Please understand this.
Living in the world and having this perspective, we can be free of danger. Whatever we may gain or accomplish in the world because of our good kamma, is still of the world and subject to decay and loss; so don’t get too carried away by it. It’s like a beetle scratching at the earth. It can scratch up a pile that’s a lot bigger than itself, but it’s still only a pile of dirt. If it works hard it makes a deep hole in the ground, but it’s still only a hole in dirt. If a buffalo drops a load of dung there, it will be bigger than the beetle’s pile of earth, but it still isn’t anything that reaches to the sky. It’s all dirt. Worldly accomplishments are like this. No matter how hard the beetles work, they’re just involved in dirt, making holes and piles.
People who have good worldly kamma have the intelligence to do well in the world. But no matter how well they do they’re still living in the world. All the things they do are worldly and have their limits, like the beetle scratching away at the earth. The hole may go deep, but it’s in the earth. The pile may get high, but it’s just a pile of dirt. Doing well, getting a lot, we’re just doing well and getting a lot in the world.

Please understand this and try to develop detachment. If you don’t gain much, be contented, understanding that it’s only the worldly. If you gain a lot, understand that it’s only the worldly. Contemplate these truths and don’t be heedless. See both sides of things, not getting stuck on one side. When something delights you, hold part of yourself back in reserve, because that delight won’t last. When you are happy, don’t go completely over to its side, because soon enough you’ll be back on the other side with unhappiness.

The Five Spiritual Strengths | Ajahn Tate

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
The Five Spiritual Strengths | Ajahn Tate
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This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Tate and is titled “The Five Spiritual Strengths”. This is based on the five ‘bala’ in Pali, and indeed in the book “Words of the Master” translated by Steven Towler the title is “5 Bala (strengths)”, and I have translated the title as the Five Spiritual Strengths for an English speaking audience.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donate” button below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Today, I am going to talk about “strengths”. There are two kinds of strength. Physical strength can be developed by maintaining good health. Strength of mind, however, is something much harder to see. It has to be composed of the “5 Bala”. As far as taking care of the mind is concerned, the 5 Bala are not its strengths. Instead, they are the means to develop strength of mind. Taking care of the mind is done via “Saddhā (faith) Bala”. Faith is a great source of strength. “Viriya (diligent effort)” is another source of strength. “Sati (mindfulness) Bala” and “Samādhi (firm concentration) Bala” and “Paññā (wisdom) Bala” are other facets of strength of mind. When these five Dhamma appear together they make the heart bold and fearless. They also have the power to propel us to Magga (path), Phala (fruit) and Nibbāna – cessation (of suffering). It can then be said that one has achieved the goal that one set out to achieve.

In terms of what is sometimes said, such as you don’t have enough Parami (perfection) or your merit is too little, it all stems from these 5 Bala. You simply don’t have them in sufficiency.

Saddhā Bala
Saddhā means faith, strong belief in doing good. Belief that doing good begets good and doing evil begets evil. Belief that no one else can take your place (in this cycle of good and evil). Belief that the perpetrator of the deed is the one who receives the result.

The Lord Buddha was full of energy. So much so that He was able to sacrifice everything and give away all his possessions. Having made this commitment, He was able to sustain it. To begin with, we must be completely satisfied with giving alms. We must lend our full strength to this. Later, we can channel this Saddhā into other things. Reckless people don’t care for Saddhā and become noncommittal when it comes to doing good. Later on, the Saddhā that would be born from Sila (morality), Samādhi and Paññā is also exhausted. Belief in self-sacrifice is gone and so is the merit that goes with it.

I want you to have firm Saddhā in looking after your Sila, regardless of whether you keep 5 precepts or 8 precepts or 10 precepts with good kamma. But don’t set your sights on 227 precepts like monks unless you have strong faith because that would be a waste of time.

The same can be said of Samādhi. If you are not satisfied with having just a little Khanika Samādhi or a little Upacāra Samādhi, you won’t practise further. You will abandon Samādhi. On the other hand, if you are gratified by the amount of Samādhi that you have, you should resolve to develop steadfastly, to the best of your ability. Progress will naturally follow.

Paññā is no different. If we don’t resolve to examine the little insights that we get, if we don’t drive Saddhā to be fearless, then it will all be for naught.
The reason why people cannot be bothered is because they don’t have Saddhā. They are uncertain about what they are doing because they lack Saddhā. They make excuses. They let things slip their mind. They are confused. They forget. This is because their Saddhā is lacking. This is how Saddhā is lost. Because of this you should promote Saddhā. Making Saddhā fearless and nurturing it is the first step.

Develop Saddhā as much as you can. When you have Saddhā, Viriya will be encouraged and this will assist in performing a whole host of tasks, such as being philanthropic and seeking out opportunities to be generous. No matter how small or great that generosity may be, always have it at the forefront of your thoughts. Having Saddhā, supports acts like these.

Viriya Bala
Diligent effort, try to maintain it constantly.

When you have Sila established, work at keeping it and don’t let it lapse. At first, looking after Sila is intermittent. Work hard to keep it for longer. Try to make Sila become your second nature. As its purity increases, keep Sila at the forefront of your thoughts. Know what is flawed and what is perfection. Those that don’t consider Sila can have goodness inside them, but they don’t see the value of it. In the olden days they used to say, this is like a monkey having glass, or a chicken having gemstones. Try to see the value of maintaining Sila. Try to see the value of Paññā and Samādhi.

However much you practise Samādhi, a lot or a little, just think back to the time when you didn’t practise at all. If you’ve meditated a few times, it’s good that you see what Samādhi is. Those who don’t see the value of Samādhi will never practise. Experiencing Samādhi gives rise to perseverance and effort. If you keep trying, one day you will succeed, for sure. Bala are the powers that make things happen.

Sati Bala
Sati means firm mindfulness of various objects.

When Saddhā and Viriya have been present, there may be times when delusion causes you to believe in the wrong things. Your effort becomes ill-directed, towards unwholesome things. If there is no Sati cocooning the heart, there will be nothing watching over it, determining what is proper or improper, right or wrong, or what is in accordance with the Dhamma, the teaching of the Lord Buddha, or not.

Listening to the directions of a teacher or his admonishment must be done with Sati protecting the heart so as to determine if the words are correct. This way, you will travel the right path. Most of us just have Saddhā, but Saddhā must be supported by Viriya in order to provide the most assistance in seeing what is improper.

When we do do something improper, it is not up to someone else to admonish us. Taking responsibility is the right thing to do. It is not appropriate for someone else to reprimand us. Someone else doing so is not the same as doing it ourselves because it is we who have the strong Saddhā and much Viriya.
Those who have Sati walk evenly. They don’t lean to one side or the other. This is called “Majjhima Patipada (the Middle Way)”. Ordinarily, those with Sati don’t see themselves as being good. People are generally not good. Because of this we have to be careful, paying close attention to things when taking instruction from others. As I have said consistently, “Someone who says they are a good person is yet to be a good person. Those who think they are special or super smart, are stupid.”

Samādhi Bala
Samādhi is one of the most important foundations (of Dhamma). Saddhā, Viriya and Sati must come together in order to achieve Samādhi. If these factors don’t come together, then there will be great confusion. Wherever Buddhism goes, it teaches. If that teaching does not penetrate your heart, you haven’t reached the essence of Buddhism. All the factors must coalesce in order for the teaching to enter the heart.

Everything in this world has to have a point of origin. Making a living, whether by trading or working in government, in whatever city, the commonality is we do it to feed ourselves. The point is to make money. We make money and put it all together in a wallet or purse. Even with farming, for example rice farming, the rice has to be carried and mixed together in the rice yard, then it has to be gathered into the barn. It then must be dehusked. Then it has to be boiled before it is concentrated in the mouth and then the stomach. And that is an end of the matter. Buddhism’s teachings are very broad. If the factors don’t coalesce and achieve Samādhi, then you won’t reach the heart of Buddhism23. This is why I have consistently said, “Buddhism teaches that there is a point of convergence that is the ultimate, beyond doubt. The end of the line. This is unlike other philosophies of life which teach eternalism.” Just as the 84,000 stanzas of the Dhamma can be summed up in a single word, “vigilance”. Magga is the path to tread to reach Magga, Phala and Nibbāna, which coalesce at the singularity of Maggasamaṅgi (the coalescence of the Eightfold Path). So, it is said that Buddhism teaches about reaching the end but there is no “traveller24” that follows this path and reaches the end.

Paññā Bala
Paññā investigates our Sankhāra (conditioned phenomena25) and body. Whatever is seen, we focus the magnifying glass on it. Right in front of our eyes we see old age and dysfunctional disintegration; a body withered and wrinkled. This is Aniccaṁ (impermanent), Dukkhaṁ (suffering) and Anattā (void of self). This is all you need to see. There is no need to look elsewhere. Try to focus your attention on this consistently. Through doing so, you will see the root cause of aging and disintegration.

The deterioration of Sankhāra is not so easy to see. Sometimes they go through their whole lifecycle, and we don’t even notice. Even when we are old and near death, we are still intoxicated by the idea of youth. Those who scrutinise aging, dilapidation and withering away see the investigation as wonderful. They see it as being the way to freedom.

Samādhi won’t arise if there is no Paññā. Without Paññā there is no Saddhā, no Viriya. The Saddhā that I am talking about is not some sort of mystical Saddhā. The notion to give alms and make merit is an aspect of Paññā, causing us to seek out such opportunities. This is Paññā. Putting in the effort to make merit is also called Paññā. The reason that the Citta can converge (into a singularity) is because of Paññā. Samādhi is achieved because of Paññā. These types of Paññā are weak types. When convergence26 happens, it’s called Paññā. If the highest level of Paññā is reached, this is called “Vipassana Paññā”.

These Five Bala encourage the heart to have fierce and solid energy. So much so that Samādhi is achieved. This Samādhi is then capable of developing Paññā at the most advanced level, which, in turn, can lead to Magga, Phala and Nibbāna.

Growing In Goodness And Virtue | Ajahn Dtun Thiracitto

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Growing In Goodness And Virtue | Ajahn Dtun Thiracitto
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This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn dtun and is titled “Growing in Goodness and Virtue” . It was published as part of the book “This Is The Path” which was sponsored by Katanyata. You can find links to the original text in the show notes to this episode.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Growing in Goodness and Virtue
by Ajahn Dtun Thiracitto

Tan Ajahn Dtun (Thiracitto) 2 January 2549 (2006)

Within the teachings of the Lord Buddha, the Buddha instructed the community of his disciples (monks, nuns, laymen and laywomen) to become acquainted with the truths of nature; that is, with regards to one’s own body, the bodies of others and all material objects – all come into being and exist for a period of time before finally ceasing to be. The Buddha was teaching that we should know the nature of things as they truly are: once born, the natural course for all beings is that they must break apart – disintegrate. We must have the sati-paññā (mindfulness and wisdom) to know things as they really are by studying one’s own body and mind, and by contemplating the Dhamma1 so as to totally cleanse one’s heart of the kilesas (defilements) of greed, anger and delusion. These impurities fill the hearts of all beings, bringing with them the endless suffering that comes from the wandering on through saṁsāra (the beginningless cycle of birth, death and rebirth).
Taking a human birth and meeting with the teachings of the Lord Buddha is something extremely hard to come by in this world. People, however are still heedless, deludedly taking pleasure in forms, sounds, odours, tastes and bodily sensations, along with material objects, with there being a never-ending search for wealth, honour and praise. Actually we have previously come across and known all of these things through countless lifetimes. However, the kilesas within the heart of all beings are never satiated, never knowing enough. When we meet with old things, we think they are new, deludedly enjoying materiality which results in an endless succession of dying and being reborn in saṁsāra. Therefore, it is something very rare indeed that we should be born as humans and meet with the teachings of the Lord Buddha.
The human realm is truly an excellent realm for it is the realm in which all the Buddhas have attained enlightenment, hence making their hearts pure. Most of the arahant (fully enlightened being) disciples also purified their hearts here in this human realm. So why is it that, having taken this human birth, we still do not make the effort to work for the heart’s purification here in this very lifetime? Why let time slip by unproductively when time is relentlessly passing by? One’s life is continually diminishing, getting shorter and shorter. One who is heedful will, for this reason, put forth great effort to perform only good, virtuous deeds by observing sīla (moral precepts), practicing samādhi (concentration) and cultivating paññā (wisdom) within their heart, for this is the path of practice for the realization of Nibbāna – the complete ending of suffering.
All the Buddhas pointed to the path of sīla, samādhi, and paññā- virtue, concentration and wisdom – as being the path that will direct one’s heart towards purity; that is, the complete absence of greed, anger and delusion, or in other words, the realization of Nibbāna within one’s own heart.
When the time and opportunity is appropriate, we perform acts of goodness so as to develop pāramī 2 (spiritual perfections) within one’s heart. Having correct or right view, we will wish to make offerings in order to increase our virtue and pāramī. When developing virtue and goodness, however, don’t go delaying or slowing down one’s heart by doing acts that make us ‘lose points’; that is, behaviour that obstructs the development of all that is virtuous. For example, when we do things which are immoral, or improper, this is called ‘losing points’; for such actions interrupt one’s continuing growth in goodness. Whenever we behave improperly or immorally, it will prevent us from performing virtuous acts such as observing moral precepts, developing concentration and cultivating wisdom within one’s heart – for moral and immoral behaviour are mutually obstructive to each other.
When taking birth in each and every lifetime, all the Buddhas would re-establish or continue anew with their aspiration for Buddhahood. They gave up all that is unskillful, bad or immoral. In each lifetime, they cleansed their hearts by performing only good deeds until finally making the heart pure.
The arahant disciples also set their hearts upon building up the spiritual perfections in order to transcend dukkha (suffering, discontentment); namely, for the realization of Nibbāna. They had patience and endurance by not acting upon their kilesas, for doing anything immoral or unwholesome would be a cause for suffering both here in the present and also in the future. They accumulated only goodness by performing the meritorious acts of observing moral precepts, developing concentration and cultivating wisdom. As a result, their store of virtue and pāramī gradually grew until their hearts became strong and unshakeable. They had mindfulness and wisdom investigating, penetrating through to the truth regarding their body or personal condition, realizing that the bodies of all sentient beings are merely aggregates of earth, water, air and fire that come together only temporarily: once born, no-one can go beyond ageing; no-one can go beyond sickness, and so no-one can go beyond death. When there is birth, change then follows, until ultimately the body breaks apart.
If we understand clearly that once having come into being, all natural conditions and phenomena will go through change until eventually disintegrating, and that the mind is unable to dictate that they be otherwise – stable or constant. As a consequence, we will make the effort to have sati-paññā, mindfulness and wisdom, seeing through things to what they truly are, not being heedless in one’s life but rather attempting to progressively build up and increase one’s spiritual perfections and virtue. Sati-paññā investigates any dukkha, or defilements, that are within one’s heart – these being born of delusion, with greed, anger, satisfaction and dissatisfaction as their outcome. One must recognize that all emotions of discontentment or unsatisfactoriness are unfavorable and so must seek out the path that avoids or subdues this dukkha, hence bringing an end to the greed, anger and delusion that are within one’s heart
We should all try, therefore, not to be negligent in our lives. Always have mindfulness and wisdom watching over and tending to the mind in each and every moment by striving to remove any kilesas and harmful thoughts from one’s mind. One’s thoughts do not arise from trees, houses, cars or one’s personal wealth. Rather, all thoughts, or dukkha, originate from within one’s mind. If we hold to incorrect or wrong views, our thinking will, as a result, be mistaken. If we do not have the sati-paññā to restrain our thoughts, we will speak or act in ways that are improper or harmful.
We must have mindfulness guarding over the mind, for the mind is the kilesas’ place of birth. Patiently persevere with any unwholesome thoughts that arise by looking for skilful ways to reflect upon and discard – at that very moment – any greed, anger, satisfaction and dissatisfaction from one’s heart, not keeping or holding to such adverse mental states. One has to know how to let go of one’s attachment towards emotions and thoughts by not acting or speaking unskillfully. If we have mindfulness watching over the mind, staying in the present moment, we will be wise to any defiled emotions, recognizing that they are states of mind, naturally subject to arising and ceasing.
However, if one’s mindfulness and wisdom are lacking in strength, not having the energy or the wisdom to reflect upon one’s emotions or kilesas in order to remove them from the heart, we must then bring mindfulness to focus upon one’s meditation object so as to establish concentration, thus cutting any adverse emotions out from the heart. Constantly recollect the Lord Buddha, or his teachings, by reciting the meditation word ‘buddho, buddho, buddho…’ silently within your mind so as to give rise to samadhi, the peacefulness and coolness of mind. The mind will be still and concentrated – all thoughts, both good and bad, will be absent from the mind.
Once the mind has firm, strong mindfulness, one will have the wisdom to continually reflect upon and abandon any kilesas from one’s heart. Even if the gross kilesas of greed and anger arise, mindfulness and wisdom will be abreast of them. When more moderate or subtle defilements arise, sati-paññā will gradually become wise to them by having the skilful means to see the emotions for what they truly are: impermanent and without any self entity, thus releasing one’s hold of them.
We make an effort, therefore, to remain focused upon growing in goodness and virtue, along with building up the spiritual perfections. What is important is that we don’t go making any bad kamma by performing unwholesome or immoral deeds. We need to have patience and a commitment to following the teachings of the Lord Buddha by refraining from doing anything that is bad or immoral and by practicing only that which is good, for this is what cultivates one’s heart to go beyond all suffering, bringing true, genuine happiness.
To experience true happiness, we must develop the mind by practicing according to the teachings of the Lord Buddha. Once we are familiar with practicing generosity, we can then cultivate the mind even further by keeping the five precepts. If one’s mind grows in strength, we may, on occasion, keep the eight precepts, or even choose to observe them as one’s normal manner of being.
When you have free time, try developing samādhi by practicing meditation. Most people, however, think they don’t have the time to practice, being too busy with their external work and duties along with their family obligations. That people do not have the time to practice is because they don’t see the use or benefit of meditation; consequently, they misguidedly take pleasure with the things of the world.
We practice meditation in order to develop strong mindfulness, wisdom so that it can discard all dukkha from the mind, hence curing one’s heart of its suffering and discontent. Everyday, therefore, we should train and develop ourselves by giving ten or fifteen minutes to quieting the mind, or longer than this if one wishes; work at it, really develop it. We are our own refuge, so we must make an effort to train and develop ourselves, for if they can train elephants and dogs to be tame, or break horses of their wildness, then why can’t we train our own heart to be good? We think that this mind is our own, yet as soon as the mind becomes troubled or distressed, why is it then that the mind only thinks of bad things – things bound up with kilesas? Why is there always dukkha burning within the heart?
For this reason, we must have mindfulness and wisdom rising up to overthrow the kilesas within one’s heart. Look for ways to let go of the defilements, thus lessening and weakening them. We really have to train this mind: train it according to the teachings of Lord Buddha, for his path is the most excellent of ways which makes it possible for the hearts of all beings to be cleansed until purified.
And so, time is passing by. Last year has passed by according to conventional, mundane view or belief, now being considered as the ‘old year’. Today is the second day of the New Year. The old year, along with all of our experiences – one’s joys and one’s sorrows – has passed by. Don’t do again anything that proved not to be good; always regard these things as lessons that educate one’s heart. Anything that was good and wholesome should be gathered together to be further enhanced. The past has gone by; the future has yet to come. One should have mindfulness and wisdom tending to one’s heart, so as to keep it established in virtue and goodness. Everyday, therefore practice only goodness, and one’s heart will, as a consequence, be cool and calm – true happiness will arise.
All conventions and designations are merely mundane concepts or assumptions – that’s all they are. The days are passing by: from days into months, from months into years, this is completely natural. However, months, years, ‘New Years Day’… are all assumed names and concepts; nevertheless, the days and nights remain just the same as ever, but it’s the mind that feels it has to change or improve on things by giving meaning and names to them.
In this that we have assumed to be the New Year, we will have to establish certain wholesome states, making goodness and virtue arise in our hearts. If we are accustomed to practicing generosity, and we desire to enhance this goodness even more, we must then observe the moral precepts. Once observing the moral precepts has become one’s normal manner, and should we wish for an even greater kind of goodness, we then should train and develop the mind in meditation so as to give rise to the mindfulness and wisdom that will be able to see through to the truths regarding one’s own body, the bodies of others, and all material objects: everything in this world comes into being, exists, and ultimately breaks apart.
When the body has broken apart, will one’s mind go to a realm that is high and refined or to one that is low and coarse? Does the heart have a true refuge or not? Or do we only have our homes, our wealth and our possessions, believing these to be one’s refuge? We can, however, only depend on these things temporarily. When the body breaks apart, the mind is completely incapable of taking one’s wealth or one’s physical body along with it. There is only the goodness and virtue that one has accumulated through the practice of sīla, samādhi and paññā that can go along with the mind. So, try establishing correct or right view within one’s heart in order to build up the spiritual perfections, thus effecting a lessening in the number of one’s future lives until finally realizing Nibbāna here in one’s own heart.
At present, you all have faith in this supreme dispensation of the Lord Buddha, routinely coming to make offerings (to the community of monks), even though it may not always be here at Wat Boonyawad. Normally, at the appropriate time and opportunity, you will go and give offerings at various monasteries, some being close and others being far from your homes, due to having practiced such generosity since past lives through into this present life. You have thus developed a strong tendency to further practice generosity and to build up the spiritual perfections. This can be considered to be one’s deep-rooted conditioning, having faithfully practiced like this since the past, hence causing one to live life with right view in one’s heart; and as such, one’s virtue and goodness will continue to grow further.
And so, I would like to call upon the spiritual perfections of all the Buddhas and the greatness of their teaching, along with the spiritual perfections of all the arahant disciples; may their goodness and virtue be your highest object of recollection, together with the virtue of the Sangha, since the past until the present, as well as the goodness they will continue to cultivate in the future, and the goodness of all of you – ever since one’s former lives until the present – so that you will aspire to further practice goodness in order to realize Nibbāna.
May all this goodness create the conditions for you all to experience growth and prosperity in your lives, realizing whatever you may wish for – provided it is within the bounds of correct morality.
May the vision of Dhamma arise in your practice and may you all realize Nibbāna.
May it be so.


Evening Sitting | Ajahn Chah

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Evening Sitting | Ajahn Chah
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This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Chah and is titled “Evening Sitting” . It was published as part of the book “The Collected Teachings of Ajahn Chah” which is made available by Aruna Publications. You can find links to the original text in the show notes to this episode.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ). Or you can become a regular patron via Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/SolHanna).

More information about this episode can be found on the Forest Path Podcast website.

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Evening Sitting
by Ajahn Chah
I WOULD LIKE TO ASK you about your practice. You have all been practising meditation here, but are you sure about the practice yet? Ask yourselves, are you condent about the practice yet? These days there are all sorts of meditation teachers around, both monks and lay teachers, and I’m afraid it will cause you to be full of doubts and uncertainty about what you are doing. This is why I am asking. As far as Buddhist practice is concerned, there is really nothing greater or higher than these teachings of the Buddha which you have been practising with here. If you have a clear understanding of them, it will give rise to an absolutely rm and unwavering peace in your heart and mind.
Making the mind peaceful is known as practising meditation, or practising samadhi. The mind is something which is extremely changeable and unreliable. Observing from your practice so far, have you seen this yet? Some days you practise sitting meditation and in no time at all the mind is calm, other days you sit and whatever you do there’s no calm the mind constantly struggles to get away, until it eventually does. Some days it goes well, some days it’s awful. This is the way the mind displays these dierent conditions for you to see. You must understand that the eight factors of the Noble Eightfold Path1 merge in sila, samadhi and panya. They don’t come together anywhere else. This means that when you bring the factors of your practice together, there must be sla, there must be samadhi and there must be panya present together in the mind. It means that in practising meditation right here and now, you are creating the causes for the Path to arise in a very direct way.
In sitting meditation you are taught to close your eyes so that you don’t spend your time looking at different things. This is because the Buddha was teaching that you should know your own mind. Observe the mind. If you close your eyes, your attention will naturally be turned inwards towards the mind the source of many dierent kinds of knowledge. This is a way of training the mind to give rise to samadhi.
Once sitting with the eyes closed, establish awareness with the breath make awareness of the breath more important than anything else. This means you bring awareness to follow the breath, and by keeping with it, you will know that place which is the focal point of sati, the focal point of the knowing and the focal point of the mind’s awareness. Whenever these factors of the path are working together, you will be able to watch and see your breath, feelings, mind and arammana as they are in the present moment. Ultimately, you will know that place which is both the focal point of samadhi and the unication point of the Path factors.
When developing samadhi, fix attention on the breath and imagine that you are sitting alone with absolutely no other people and nothing else around to bother you. Develop this perception in the mind, sustaining it until the mind completely lets go of the world outside and all that is left is simply the knowing of the breath entering and leaving. The mind must set aside the external world. Don’t allow yourself to start thinking about this person who is sitting over here, or that person who is sitting over there.
Don’t give space to any thoughts that will give rise to confusion or agitation in the mind it’s better to throw them out and be done with them. There is no one else here, you are sitting all alone. Develop this perception until all the other memories, perceptions and thoughts concerning other people and things subside, and you’re no longer doubting or wondering about the other people or things around you. Then you can fix your attention solely on the in-breaths and out-breaths. Breathe normally. Allow the in-breaths and the out-breaths to continue naturally, without forcing them to be longer or shorter, stronger or weaker than normal. Allow the breath to continue in a state of normality and balance, and then sit and observe it entering and leaving the body.
Once the mind has let go of external mind-objects, it means you will no longer feel disturbed by the sound of traffic or other noises. You won’t feel irritated with anything outside. Whether it’s forms, sounds or whatever, they won’t be a source of disturbance, because the mind won’t be paying attention to them it will become centred upon the breath.
If the mind is agitated by dierent things and you can’t concentrate, try taking an extra-deep breath until the lungs are completely full, and then release all the air until there is none left inside. Do this several times, then re-establish awareness and continue to develop concentration. Having re-established mindfulness, it’s normal that for a period the mind will be calm, then change and become agitated again. When this happens, make the mind firm, take another deep breath and subsequently expel all the air from your lungs. Fill the lungs to capacity again for a moment and then re-establish mindfulness on the breathing. Fix sati on the in-breaths and the out-breaths, and continue to maintain awareness in this way.
The practice tends to be this way, so it will have to take many sittings and much effort before you become prociffent. Once you are, the mind will let go of the external world and remain undisturbed. Mind-objects from the outside will be unable to penetrate inside and disturb the mind itself. Once they are unable to penetrate inside, you will see the mind. You will see the mind as one object of awareness, the breath as another and mind-objects as another. They will all be present within the field of awareness, centred at the tip of your nose. Once sati is rmly established with the in-breaths and out-breaths, you can continue to practise at your ease. As the mind becomes calm, the breath, which was originally coarse, becomes correspondingly lighter and more rened. The object of mind also becomes increasingly subtle and rened. The body feels lighter and the mind itself feels progressively lighter and unburdened. The mind lets go of external mind-objects and you continue to observe internally.
From here onwards your awareness will be turned away from the world outside and be directed inwards to focus on the mind. Once the mind has gathered together and become concentrated, maintain awareness at that point where the mind becomes focused. As you breathe, you will see the breath clearly as it enters and leaves, sati will be sharp and awareness of mind-objects and mental activity will be clearer. At that point you will see the characteristics of sila, samadhi and panya and the way in which they merge together. This is known as the unication of the Path factors. Once this unication occurs, your mind will be free from all forms of agitation and confusion. It will become one-pointed and this is what is known as samadhi.
When you focus attention in just one place, in this case the breath, you gain a clarity and awareness because of the uninterrupted presence of sati. As you continue to see the breath clearly, sati will become stronger and the mind will become more sensitive in many different ways. You will see the mind in the centre of that place (the breath), one-pointed with awareness focused inwards, rather than turning towards the world outside. The external world gradually disappears from your awareness and the mind no longer goes to perform any work on the outside. It’s as if you’ve come inside your `house’, where all your sense faculties have come together to form one compact unit. You are at ease and the mind is free from all external objects. Awareness remains with the breath and over time it will penetrate deeper and deeper inside, becoming progressively more refined.
Ultimately, awareness of the breath becomes so refined that the sensation of the breath seems to disappear. You could say either that awareness of the sensation of the breath has disappeared, or that the breath itself has disappeared. Then there arises a new kind of awareness awareness that the breath has disappeared. In other words, awareness of the breath becomes so rened that it’s difficult to define it.
So it might be that you are just sitting there and there’s no breath. Really, the breath is still there, but it has become so rened that it seems to have disappeared. Why? Because the mind is at its most refined, with a special kind of knowing. All that remains is the knowing. Even though the breath has vanished, the mind is still concentrated with the know- ledge that the breath is not there. As you continue, what should you take up as the object of meditation? Take this very knowing as the meditation object in other words the knowledge that there is no breath and sustain this. You could say that a specific kind of knowledge has been established in the mind.
At this point, some people might have doubts arising, because it is here that nimitta1 can arise. These can be of many kinds, including both forms and sounds. It is here that all sorts of unexpected things can arise in the course of the practice. If nimitta do arise (some people have them, some don’t) you must understand them in accordance with the truth. Don’t doubt or allow yourself to become alarmed.
At this stage, you should make the mind unshakeable in its concentration and be especially mindful. Some people become startled when they notice that the breath has disappeared, because they’re used to having the breath there. When it appears that the breath has gone, you might panic or become afraid that you are going to die. Here you must establish the understanding that it is just the nature of the practice to progress in this way. What will you observe as the object of meditation now? Observe this feeling that there is no breath and sustain it as the object of awareness as you continue to meditate. The Buddha described this as the firmest, most unshakeable form of samadhi. There is just one rm and unwavering object of mind. When your practice of samadhi reaches this point, there will be many unusual and rened changes and transformations taking place within the mind, of which you can be aware. The sensation of the body will feel at its lightest or might even disappear altogether. You might feel like you are oating in mid-air and seem to be completely weightless. It might be like you are in the middle of space and wherever you direct your sense faculties they don’t seem to register anything at all. Even though you know the body is still sitting there, you experience complete emptiness. This feeling of emptiness can be quite strange.
As you continue to practise, understand that there is nothing to worry about. Establish this feeling of being relaxed and unworried, securely in the mind. Once the mind is concentrated and one-pointed, no mind-object will be able to penetrate or disturb it, and you will be able to sit like this for as long as you want. You will be able to sustain concentration without any feelings of pain and discomfort.
Having developed samadhi to this level, you will be able to enter or leave it at will. When you do leave it, it’s at your ease and convenience. You withdraw at your ease, rather than because you are feeling lazy or tired. You withdraw from samadhi because it is the appropriate time to withdraw, and you come out of it at your will.
This is samadhi; you are relaxed and at your ease. You enter and leave it without any problems. The mind and heart are at ease. If you genuinely have samadhi like this, it means that sitting meditation and entering samadhi for just thirty minutes or an hour will enable you to remain cool and peaceful for many days afterwards. Experiencing the effects of samadhi like this for several days has a purifying effect on the mind whatever you experience will become an object for contemplation. This is where the practice really begins. It’s the fruit which arises as samadhi matures.
Samadhi performs the function of calming the mind. Samadhi performs one function, sla performs one function and panya performs another function. These characteristics, which you are focusing attention on and developing in the practice are linked, forming a circle. This is the way they manifest in the mind. Sila, samadhi and panya arise and mature from the same place. Once the mind is calm, it will become progressively more restrained and composed due to the presence of panya and the power of samadhi.
As the mind becomes more composed and rened, this gives rise to an energy which acts to purify sla. Greater purity of sla facilitates the development of stronger and more rened samadhi, and this in turn supports the maturing of panya. They assist each other in this way. Each aspect of the practice acts as a supporting factor for the other ones in the end these terms becoming synonymous. As these three factors continue to mature together, they form one complete circle, ultimately giving rise to magga. Magga is a synthesis of these three functions of the practice working smoothly and consistently together. As you practise, you have to preserve this energy. It is the energy which will give rise to vipassana1 or panya. Having reached this stage (where panya is already functioning in the mind, independent of whether the mind is peaceful or not), panya will provide a consistent and independent energy in the practice. You see that whenever the mind is not peaceful, you shouldn’t attach, and even when it is peaceful, you shouldn’t attach. Having let go of the burden of such concerns, the heart will accordingly feel much lighter. Whether you experience pleasant mind-objects or unpleasant mind-objects, you will remain at ease. The mind will remain peaceful in this way.
Another important thing is to see that when you stop doing formal meditation practice, if there is no wisdom functioning in the mind, you will give up the practice altogether without any further contemplation, development of awareness or thought about the work which still has to be done. In fact, when you withdraw from samadhi, you know clearly in the mind that you have withdrawn. Having withdrawn you should continue to conduct yourself in a normal manner. Maintain mindfulness and awareness at all times. It isn’t that you only practise meditation in the sitting posture samadhi means the mind which is rm and unwavering. As you go about your daily life, make the mind firm and steady and maintain this sense of steadiness as the object of mind at all times. You must be practising sati and sampajanya continuously.

After you get up from the formal sitting practice and go about your business walking, riding in cars and so on whenever your eyes see a form or your ears hear a sound, maintain awareness. As you experience mind- objects which give rise to liking and disliking, try to consistently maintain awareness of the fact that such mental states are impermanent and uncer- tain. In this way the mind will remain calm and in a state of `normality’.
As long as the mind is calm, use it to contemplate mind-objects. Contemplate the whole of this form, the physical body. You can do this at any time and in any posture: whether doing formal meditation practice, relaxing at home, out at work, or in whatever situation you find yourself. Keep the meditation and the reflection going at all times. Just going for a walk and seeing dead leaves on the ground under a tree can provide an opportunity to contemplate impermanence. Both we and the leaves are the same: when we get old, we shrivel up and die. Other people are all the same. This is raising the mind to the level of vipassana, contemplating the truth of the way things are, the whole time. Whether walking, standing, sitting or lying down, sati is sustained evenly and consistently. This is practising meditation correctly you have to follow the mind closely, checking it at all times.
Practising here and now at seven o’clock in the evening, we have sat and meditated together for an hour and now stopped. It might be that your mind has stopped practising completely and hasn’t continued with the reflection. That’s the wrong way to do it. When we stop, all that should stop is the formal meeting and sitting meditation. You should continue practising and developing awareness consistently, without letting up.
I’ve often taught that if you don’t practise consistently, it’s like drops of water. It’s like drops of water because the practice is not a continuous, uninterrupted ow. Sati is not sustained evenly. The important point is that the mind does the practice and nothing else. The body doesn’t do it. The mind does the work, the mind does the practice. If you understand this clearly, you will see that you don’t necessarily have to do formal sitting meditation in order for the mind to know samadhi. The mind is the one who does the practice. You have to experience and understand this for yourself, in your own mind.
Once you do see this for yourself, you will be developing awareness in the mind at all times and in all postures. If you are maintaining sati as an even and unbroken ow, it’s as if the drops of water have joined to form a smooth and continuous ow of running water. Sati is present in the mind from moment to moment and accordingly there will be awareness of mind-objects at all times. If the mind is restrained and composed with uninterrupted sati, you will know mind-objects each time that wholesome and unwholesome mental states arise. You will know the mind that is calm and the mind that is confused and agitated. Wherever you go you will be practising like this. If you train the mind in this way, your meditation will mature quickly and successfully.
Please don’t misunderstand. These days it’s common for people to go on vipassana courses for three or seven days, where they don’t have to speak or do anything but meditate. Maybe you have gone on a silent meditation retreat for a week or two, afterwards returning to your normal daily life. You might have left thinking that you’ve `done vipassana’ and, because you feel that you know what it’s all about, then carry on going to parties, discos and indulging in different forms of sensual delight. When you do it like this, what happens? There won’t be any of the fruits of vipassana left by the end of it. If you go and do all sorts of unskilful things, which disturb and upset the mind, wasting your previous efforts, then next year go back again and do another retreat for seven days or a few weeks, then come out and carry on with the parties, discos and drinking, that isn’t true practice. It isn’t pat.ipada1 or the path to progress.
You need to make an effort to renounce. You must contemplate until you see the harmful effects which come from such behaviour. See the harm in drinking and going out on the town. Reflect and see the harm inherent in all the different kinds of unskilful behaviour which you indulge in, until it becomes fully apparent. This would provide the impetus for you to take a step back and change your ways. Then you would nd some real peace. To experience peace of mind you have to clearly see the disadvantages and danger in such forms of behaviour. This is practising in the correct way. If you do a silent retreat for seven days, where you don’t have to speak to or get involved with anybody, and then go chatting, gossiping and overindulging for another seven months, how will you gain any real or lasting benet from those seven days of practice?
I would encourage all the laypeople here who are practising to develop awareness and wisdom to understand this point. Try to practise consistently. See the disadvantages of practising insincerely and inconsistently, and try to sustain a more dedicated and continuous eort in the prac- tice. Just this much. It can then become a realistic possibility that you might put an end to the kilesa. But that lifestyle of not speaking and not playing around for seven days, followed by six months of complete sensual indulgence, without any mindfulness or restraint, will just lead to the squandering of any gains made from the meditation there won’t be anything left. It’s like going to work for a day and earning twenty pounds, but then going out and spending thirty pounds on food and things in the same day; would any money be saved? It would all be gone. It’s just the same with the meditation.
This is a form of reminder to you all, so I will ask for your forgiveness. It’s necessary to speak in this way, so that those aspects of the practice which are at fault will become clear to you and accordingly, you will be able to give them up. You could say that the reason why you have come to practise is to learn how to avoid doing the wrong things in the future. What happens when you do the wrong things? Doing wrong things leads you to agitation and suering, when there’s no goodness in the mind. It’s not the way to peace of mind. This is the way it is. If you practise on a retreat, not talking for seven days, and then go indulging for a few months, no matter how strictly you practised for those seven days, you won’t derive any lasting value from that practice. Practising that way, you don’t really get anywhere. Many places where meditation is taught don’t really get to grips with or get beyond this problem. Really, you have to conduct your daily life in a consistently calm and restrained way.
In meditation you have to be constantly turning your attention to the practice. It’s like planting a tree. If you plant a tree in one place and after three days pull it up and plant it in a different spot, then after a further three days pull it up and plant it in yet another place, it will just die without producing anything. Practising meditation like this won’t bear any fruit either. This is something you have to understand for yourselves. Contemplate it. Try it out for yourselves when you go home. Get a sapling and plant it in one spot, and every few days, go and pull it up and plant it in a different place. It will just die without ever bearing any fruit. It’s the same doing a meditation retreat for seven days, followed by seven months of unrestrained behaviour, allowing the mind to become soiled, and then going back to do another retreat for a short period, practising strictly without talking and subsequently coming out and being unrestrained again. As with the tree, the meditation just dies none of the wholesome fruits are retained. The tree doesn’t grow, the meditation doesn’t grow. I say practising this way doesn’t bear much fruit.
Actually, I’m not fond of giving talks like this. It’s because I feel sorry for you that I have to speak critically. When you are doing the wrong things, it’s my duty to tell you, but I’m speaking out of compassion for you. Some people might feel uneasy and think that I’m just scolding them. Really, I’m not just scolding you for its own sake, I’m helping to point out where you are going wrong, so that you know. Some people might think, Luang Por (1) is just telling us o,’ but it’s not like that. It’s only once in a long while that I’m able to come and give a talk if I were to give talks like this every day, you would really get upset! But the truth is, it’s not you who gets upset, it’s only the kilesa that are upset. I will say just this much for now.
( 1 Luang Por: `Venerable Father’; a way of addressing elderly monks.)


Reflection on Nibbana | Ajahn Tate

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Reflection on Nibbana | Ajahn Tate
/

This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Tate and is titled “Reflection on Nibbana”. In this dhamma talk, Ajahn Tate reflects upon the profound peace and infinite benefit of the highest possible achievement – Nibbana.

This teaching was translated by Steven Towler and was made available for free distribution in the publication “Words of the Master” which was published in 2023. You can find links to the original text in the show notes to this episode.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ). Or you can become a regular patron via Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/SolHanna).

More information about this episode can be found on the Forest Path Podcast website.

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Reflections On Nibbana
by Ajahn Tate
Upasamānusati is the recollection of the tranquillity of Nibbāna. Some amongst us may think this is too lofty an ambition. The Lord Buddha was not able to display His tranquillity
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so we are not able to gauge the subtlety of His level of peacefulness, right up to Nibbāna. He did, however, bid us to reflect on the serenity of Nibbāna, as follows.
We must all endeavour to become peaceful! To be aware of complete freedom from all objects, everything. If you grasp the meaning of this right now, you will reach Nibbāna. Whatever happens is fine. It’s up to you whether you reach Nibbāna or not, however,
I implore you to recollect peacefulness because recollecting peacefulness makes the mind rock solid.
This is what the Lord Buddha meant when he beseeched us to recollect in this way. If your reflection is not peaceful, confusion will set in.
When we are calm, but not as calm as the Lord Buddha, we experience a fraction of His Nibbāna.
That said, we are happy with this, which is enough for the time being. This is just freedom from
Ārammaṇa (the six sense objects). It is peacefulness by temporary relief from the five Nivaraņa
(hinderances). This kind of tranquillity is still associated with Loba (greed), Dosa (ill-will) and Moha (delusion). The defilements are plentiful. When we are peaceful in this manner, we have no idea of the depth of our tranquillity. But this is still good. The Lord Buddha still referred to this as being tranquil.
Lord Buddha said to reflect on Nibbāna as your object (Ārammaṇa). “The peace of Nibbāna is probably like this
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.
Nibbāna is void of Loba, Dosa and Moha.” It is that moment and no other, when one is free from greed, ill-will and delusion that real peacefulness and tranquillity arises. This is what the Lord Buddha meant by Nibbāna. This is why He implored one to ponder on tranquillity.
Nibbāna is hard to make sense of, but we believe in our own peacefulness. We know we can achieve at least some level of calmness. Even if we cannot reach the same level of tranquillity as the Lord Buddha, we may be able to come close to Nibbāna. If you can sustain peacefulness, your reflection on Nibbāna will be sustained. If your peacefulness is fleeting, your reflection on Nibbāna will be fleeting. The Lord Buddha’s Nibbāna was truly the pinnacle of tranquillity. His only thoughts were Nibbāna. He had no thoughts of Kilesa (defilements). Any thoughts He did have were about tranquillity and that’s it.
Typically, the Citta tends to think, constantly. But Sati (mindfulness) keeps the mind protected, allowing the Citta to be observed at every level.
The Lord Buddha’s Citta did not stray outside its boundaries. It was under His control. It was not a source of Kilesa. All thoughts were equanimous. It is apposite for us all to emulate Him, at least somewhat, even if we only achieve a tiny amount of peacefulness. We will accept this for the time being and we will guard this tranquillity so that it becomes solid. We will then see for ourselves, that, if peacefulness is sustained for long periods, great tranquillity and happiness will be experienced. The same is true for Nibbāna
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. If the mind is calm, both Nibbāna and unwholesome states can be teachers. If the mind is disturbed, then neglect has set in.
Hell and Nibbāna are at opposite ends of the spectrum, polar opposites. The battle between them is what it is all about
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.
Wherever we come from, after we are born, we are met with nothing but a vast array of confusion, such as countless thoughts and imaginings.
When we get tranquillity, even just a little bit, we feel relaxed and comfortable. This state is worth preserving, making it a permanent fixture (of one’s mind). That way, it will be for our own happiness and happiness is what everyone around the world desires.
When this level of happiness arises, we must look after it. Things are easy to seek but difficult to maintain. With regard to this happiness, those who will obtain it will do so moment by moment, those that do not, won’t.
Maintaining this level of happiness for long periods is the hardest thing to do. Why is this? Well, for a start, our mood is constantly changing. Standing, walking, sitting or lying down; speaking, chatting, eating, every activity, it is all about what contacts the Āyatana (senses). The Citta chases after what makes contact with the Āyatana and this what makes maintenance difficult.
If someone is experienced and masterful (in this practice), they will know its ins and outs. They will be able to keep pace with everything they know and see, no matter how these things arise. The surveying Citta will be Dhamma. Thinking will be Dhamma. Imagining and formulating will be Dhamma.
If you know what is going on, it is all Dhamma, everything. One who practises will see their own virtue and their own vice right there. What is Dhamma and what is worldly will be seen right there
.
If your thinking is worldly, everything becomes about the world. There is no Sati to cocoon and protect the Citta. On the other hand, if your focus is on Dhamma, you will follow cause and effect constantly and that focus will remain as long as you wish. Thinking will not exceed boundaries. You can withdraw into this stillness, this peace, at any time. This can be compared with raising cattle. The farmer feeds them in a wide pasture. He climbs a tree to observe each one. He knows the location of them all. In the evening, he brings them into the barn and locks the barndoor. Their owner then sleeps soundly because he knows he does not have to mind them.
This is it, Upasamānusati, recollection of the peace of Nibbāna as the object. No matter what the Lord Buddha’s object was, we first need to settle for (the limited peacefulness that has been detailed here). If you do manage to reach the same object as the Lord Buddha, you will know this for yourself
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. No one can tell you or instruct you (that this is the case). You cannot make a comparison. Whoever experiences this will know for themselves.
If you think this is going to be as you learned from the text and manuals, you will realise that reality is something else. However, when you have studied, then doing a comparison is not wrong. When you do this, you realise that (actually) there is not the slightest difference
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.
All practitioners want to achieve (increased) levels of practice. They want these stages to be firmly established. They want to achieve Sotāpanna, Sakidāgāmi and Anāgāmi. They can close their eyes and, momentarily, envision this. However, when they withdraw from Samādhi, they find that various Kilesa still trouble them. The Kilesa are all still there, just as they were in the beginning. The Lord Buddha, on the other hand, did not engage with the Kilesa once He had seen (the truth). For Him every Kilesa was expunged. He said, a Sotāpanna is like one who has fallen into the stream of Nibbāna and taken a vague look but has not reached Nibbāna. A Sakidāgāmi has gotten closer and sees Nibbāna much clearer. An Anāgāmi sees it at an even closer distance. They see it vividly. It is only clearer when the stage of Arahant is reached. At this stage, Nibbāna is seen with absolute clarity. The Arahant sees clearly that it is following the Dhamma that has made him/her an Arahant, without the need to believe in or listen to anyone else. They see everything is in perfect alignment with what the Lord Buddha taught.
Most people would like to be Sotāpanna, Sakidāgāmi, Anāgāmi or Arahant. People think that if they forsake some Kilesa they will be a Sotāpanna. If they forsake some more, they will be a Sakidāgāmi or an Arahant just like the Lord Buddha. But they do not abandon the Kilesa as He did. Instead, they collect them, while extolling the Lord Buddha. How on earth will they reach the Lord Buddha? Even at this stage they still do not want to give up craving. As the ancients said, “Those who want, don’t eat. Those who are eating, don’t want.”


Heart of a Samana | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Heart of a Samana | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled Heart of a Samana. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donate” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Heart of a Samana
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
In the time of the Buddha, samanas were revered for their asceticism. Having renounced the world for the purpose of transcending suffering, they became some of the Buddha’s most accomplished disciples. Re- gardless of their social status, age or race, when they ordained under the Buddha’s guidance, they changed
their habitual ways of thinking, acting and speaking to the way of Dhamma. Casting the defilements aside, those disciples ceased to follow their lead from that moment on. With earnest effort, they directed all their energy toward pu- rifying their hearts and cleansing them of the contamination created by the defilements.
In essence, earnest effort is synonymous with the endeavor to maintain steady and continuous mindful awareness, always striving to keep a constant watch on the mind. When mindfulness oversees all our mental and emotional activities, at all times in all postures, this is called Right Effort. Whether we’re engaged in formal meditation practice or not, if we earnestly endeavor to keep our minds firmly focused in the present moment, we constantly offset the threat posed by the defilements. The defilements work tirelessly to churn out thoughts of the past and the future. This distracts the mind, drawing it away from the present moment and from the mindful awareness that maintains our effort.
For this reason, we should not allow our minds to wander into worldly thoughts about the past or the future. Such thinking is invariably bound up with the defilements, and thus hinders practice. Instead of following the tendency of the defilements to focus externally on the affairs of the world outside, we must focus internally and become aware of the mind’s inner world. This is es- sential.
Largely because they are not sufficiently resolute in applying basic prin- ciples of meditation, many practitioners fail to gain satisfactory results. If we simply focus attention on the presence of awareness in the mind without a meditation-word to anchor us, the results are bound to be hit and miss. The mind’s awareness is too subtle to give mindfulness a firm basis, so the mind soon strays into thinking and distraction – lured by the siren call of the de- filements. Meditation practice then becomes patchy. At certain times it seems to progress smoothly, almost effortlessly, only to become suddenly and un- expectedly difficult. It falters, and all apparent progress disappears. With its confidence shaken, the mind is left floundering. However, if we use a medi- tation-word as an anchor to solidly ground our mindfulness, then the mind is sure to attain a state of meditative calm and concentration in the shortest pos- sible time. It will also have the means to maintain that calm state with ease.
I am speaking here from personal experience. When I first began to medi- tate, my practice lacked a solid foundation. Since I had yet to discover the right method to look after my mind, my practice was in a state of constant flux. It would make steady progress for awhile only to decline rapidly and fall back to its original untutored condition. Due to the intense effort I exerted in the beginning, my mind succeeded in attaining a calm and concentrated state of samadhi. It felt as substantial and stable as a mountain. Still lacking a suitable method for maintaining this state, I took it easy and rested on my achieve- ment. That was when my practice suffered a decline. My practice began to deteriorate, but I didn’t know how to reverse the decline. So I thought long and hard, trying to find a firm basis on which I could expect to stabilize my mind. Even- tually, I came to the conclusion that mindfulness had deserted me because my fundamentals were wrong: I lacked a meditation-word to act as a precise focus for my attention.
I was forced to begin my prac- tice anew. This time, I first drove a stake firmly into the ground and held tightly to it no matter what happened. That stake was Buddho, the recollection of the Buddha.
I made the meditation-word Buddho the sole object of my attention. I fo- cused on the mental repetition of Buddho to the exclusion of everything else. Buddho became my sole objective as I made sure that mindfulness was always in control to direct the effort. All thoughts of progress or decline were put aside. I would let happen whatever was going to happen. I was determined not to indulge in my old thought patterns: thinking about the past – when my practice was progressing nicely – and of how it collapsed; then thinking of the future, hoping that, somehow, through a strong desire to succeed, my previous sense of contentment would return on its own. All the while, I had failed to create the condition that would bring the desired results. I merely wished to see improve- ment, only to be disappointed when it failed to materialize. For, in truth, desire for success does not bring success; only mindful effort will.
This time I resolved that, no matter what occurred, I should just let it hap- pen. Fretting about progress and decline was a source of agitation, distracting me from the present moment and the work at hand. Only the mindful repetition of Buddho could prevent fluctuations in my meditation. It was paramount that I center the mind on awareness of the immediate present. Discursive thinking could not be allowed to disrupt concentration.
To practice meditation earnestly to attain an end to all suffering, you must be totally committed to the work at each successive stage of the path. Nothing less than total commitment will succeed. To experience the deepest levels of samadhi and achieve the most profound levels of wisdom, you cannot afford to be halfhearted and listless, forever wavering because you lack firm principles to guide your practice. Those without a firm commitment to the principles of practice can meditate their entire lives without gaining the proper results. In the initial stages of practice, you must find a stable object of meditation with which to anchor your mind. Don’t just focus casually on an ambiguous object, like the awareness that is always present in the mind. Without a specific object of atten- tion to hold your mind, it will be almost impossible to keep your attention from wandering. This is a recipe for failure. In the end, you’ll become disappointed and give up trying.
When mindfulness loses its focus, the defilements rush in to drag your thoughts to a past long gone, or a future yet to come. The mind becomes un- stable and strays aimlessly over the mental landscape, never remaining still or contented for a moment. This is how practitioners lose ground while watching their meditation practice collapse. The only antidote is a single, uncomplicated focal point of attention, such as a meditation-word or the breath. Choose one that seems most appropriate to you and focus steadfastly on that one object to the exclusion of everything else. Total commitment is essential to the task.
My choice was Buddho meditation. From the moment I made my resolve, I kept my mind from straying from the repetition of Buddho. From the moment I awoke in the morning until I slept at night, I forced myself to think only of Buddho. At the same time, I ceased to be preoccupied with thoughts of prog- ress and decline: if my meditation made progress, it would do so with Buddho; if it declined, it would go down with Buddho. In either case, Buddho was my sole preoccupation. All other concerns were irrelevant.
Maintaining such single-minded concentration is not an easy task. I had to literally force my mind to remain entwined with Buddho each and every mo- ment without interruption. Regardless of whether I was seated in meditation, walking in meditation or simply doing my daily chores, the word Buddho res- onated deeply within my mind at all times. By nature and temperament, I was always extremely resolute and uncompromising. This tendency worked to my advantage. In the end, I became so earnestly com- mitted to the task that nothing could shake my resolve; no er- rant thought could separate the mind from Buddho.
Working at this practice day after day, I always made certain that Buddho resonated in close harmony with my present-moment awareness. Soon, I began to see the results of calm and concentration arise clearly within the mind. At that stage, I began to see the very subtle and refined nature of the mind. The longer I internalized Buddho, the more subtle the mind became, until eventually the subtlety of Buddho and the subtlety of the mind melded into one another and became one and the same essence of knowing. I could not separate Buddho from the mind’s subtle nature. Try as I might, I could no longer make the word Buddho appear in my mind. Through diligence and perseverance, Buddho had become so closely unified with the mind that Buddho itself no longer appeared within my awareness. The mind had become so calm and still, so profoundly subtle, that nothing – not even Buddho – resonated there.
When this took place, I felt bewildered. I had predicated my whole prac- tice on holding steadfastly to Buddho. Now that Buddho was no longer appar- ent, where would I focus my attention? Up to this point, Buddho had been my mainstay. Now it had disappeared. No matter how hard I tried to recover this focus, it was lost. I was in a quandary. All that remained in the mind was a pure and simple awareness, bright and clear. There was nothing concrete within that awareness to latch on to.
I realized then that nothing invades the mind’s sphere of awareness when consciousness – its knowing presence – reaches such a profound and subtle condition. I was left with only one choice: with the loss of Buddho, I had to focus my attention on the essential sense of awareness and knowing that was all-present and prominent at that moment. That consciousness had not disap- peared; on the contrary, it was all-pervasive. All of the mindful awareness that had concentrated on the repetition of Buddho was then firmly refocused on the very subtle knowing presence of the calm and converged mind. My attention remained firmly fixed on that subtle knowing essence until eventually its promi- nence began to fade, allowing my normal awareness to become reestablished.
As normal awareness returned, Buddho manifested itself once more. So I immediately refocused my attention on the repetition of my meditation-word.
Before long, my daily practice assumed a new rhythm: I concentrated intently on Buddho until consciousness resolved into the clear, brilliant state of aware- ness, remaining absorbed in that subtle knowing until normal awareness re- turned; and I then refocused with increased vigor on the repetition of Buddho. It was during this stage that I first gained a solid spiritual foundation in my med- itation practice. From then on, my practice progressed steadily – never again did it fall into decline. With each passing day, my mind became increasingly calm, peaceful and concentrated. The fluctuations that had long plagued me ceased to be an issue. Concerns about the state of my practice were replaced by mindfulness rooted in the present moment. The intensity of this mindful presence was incompatible with thoughts of the past or future. My center of activity was the present moment – each silent repetition of Buddho as it arose and passed away. I had no interest in anything else. In the end, I was convinced that the reason for my mind’s previous state of flux was a lack of mindfulness resulting from not anchoring my attention with a meditation-word. Instead, I had just focused on a general feeling of inner awareness without a specific object, allowing my mind to stray easily as thoughts intruded.
Once I understood the correct method for this initial stage of meditation, I applied myself to the task with such earnest commitment that I refused to al- low mindfulness to lapse for even a single moment. Beginning in the morning when I awoke and continuing into night until I fell asleep, I was consciously aware of my meditation at each and every moment of my waking hours. It was a difficult ordeal, requiring the ut- most concentration and perseverance. I couldn’t afford to let down my guard and relax even for a moment. Be- ing so intently concentrated on the internalization of Buddho, I hardly noticed what went on around me. My normal daily interactions passed by in a blur, but Buddho was always sharply in focus. My commitment to the meditation-word was total. With this firm foundation to bolster my practice, mental calm and concentration became so unshakable that they felt as solid and unyielding as a mountain.
Eventually this rock-solid condition of the mind became the primary point of focus for mindfulness. As the mind steadily gained greater inner stability, re- sulting in a higher degree of integration, the meditation-word Buddho gradually faded from awareness, leaving the calm and concentrated state of the mind’s essential knowing nature to be perceived prominently on its own. By that stage, the mind had advanced to samadhi – an intense state of focused awareness, as- suming a life of its own, independent of any meditation technique. Fully calm and unified, the knowing presence itself became the sole focus of attention, a condition of mind so prominent and powerful that nothing can arise to dislodge it. This is known as the mind being in a state of continuous samadhi. In other words, the mind is samadhi – both are one and the same.
Speaking in terms of the deeper levels of meditation practice, a fundamen- tal difference exists between a state of meditative calm and the samadhi state. When the mind converges and drops into a calm, concentrated state to remain for a period of time before withdrawing to normal consciousness, this is known as meditative calm. The calm and concentration are temporary conditions that last while the mind remains fixed in that peaceful state. As normal conscious- ness returns, these extraordinary conditions gradually dissipate. However, as we become more adept at this practice – entering into and withdrawing from a calm, unified state over and over again – the mind begins to build a solid inner foundation. When this foundation becomes unshakable in all circumstances, the mind is known to be in a state of continuous samadhi. Then, even when the mind withdraws from meditative calm, it still feels solid and compact, as though nothing can disturb its inward focus.
The mind that is continuously unified in samadhi is always even and unperturbed. It feels completely satiated. Because of the very compact and concentrated sense of inner unity, everyday thoughts and emotions no longer make an impact. In such a state, the mind has no desire to think about anything. Completely peaceful and content within itself, nothing is felt to be lacking. In such a state of continuous calm and concentration, the mind becomes very powerful. While the mind was previously hungry to experience thoughts and emotions, it now shuns them as a nuisance. Before, it was so agitated that it couldn’t stop thinking and imagining even if it wanted to. Now, with samadhi as its habitual condition, the mind feels no desire to think about anything. It views thought as an unwanted disturbance. When the mind’s awareness stands out prominently all the time, the mind is so inwardly concentrated that it tol- erates no disturbance. Because of this sublime tranquility – and the tendency of samadhi to lull the mind into this state of serene satisfaction – those whose minds have attained continuous samadhi tend to become strongly attached to it. This remains so until one reaches the level of practice where wisdom pre- vails and the results become even more satisfying.
From that point on, I accelerated my efforts. It was at that time that I began sitting in meditation all night long, from dusk until dawn. While sitting one night, I started focusing inward as usual. Because it had already developed a good, strong foundation, the mind easily en- tered into samadhi. So long as the mind rested there calmly, it remained unaware of exter- nal bodily feelings. But when I withdrew from samadhi many hours later, I began to experience them in full. Eventually, my body was so racked by severe pain that I could hardly cope. The mind was suddenly unnerved, and its good, strong foundation completely collapsed. The entire body was filled with such excruciating pain that it quivered all over.
Thus began the bout of hand-to-hand combat that gave me insight into an important meditation technique. Until the unexpected appearance of such severe pain, I had not thought of trying to sit all night. I had never made a resolution of that kind. I was simply practicing seated meditation as I normally did, but when the pain began to overwhelm me, I thought: “Hey, what’s going on here? I must make every effort to figure out this pain tonight.” So I made the solemn resolve that no matter what happened I would not get up from my seat until dawn of the next day. I was determined to investigate the nature of pain until I understood it clearly and distinctly. I would have to dig deep. But, if need be, I was willing to die in order to find out the truth about pain.
Wisdom began to tackle this problem in earnest. Before I found myself cornered like that with no way out, I never imagined that wisdom could be so sharp and incisive. It went to work, relentlessly whirling around as it probed into the source of the pain with the determination of a warrior who never re- treats or accepts defeat. This experience convinced me that in moments of real crisis wisdom arises to meet the challenge. We are not fated to be ignorant forever – when truly backed into a corner, we are bound to be able to find a way to help ourselves. It happened to me that night. When I was cornered and overwhelmed by severe pain, mindfulness and wisdom just dug into the painful feelings.
The pain began as hot flashes along the backs of my hands and feet, but that was really quite mild. When it arose in full force, the entire body was ablaze with pain. All the bones, and the joints connecting them, were like fuel feeding the fire that engulfed the body. It felt as though every bone in my body was breaking apart; as though my neck would snap and my head drop to the floor. When all parts of the body hurt at once, the pain is so intense that one doesn’t know how to begin stemming the tide long enough just to breathe.
This crisis left mindfulness and wisdom with no alternative but to dig deep into the pain, searching for the exact spot where it felt most severe. Mindful- ness and wisdom probed and investigated right where the pain was greatest, trying to isolate it so as to see it clearly. “Where does this pain originate? Who suffers the pain?” They asked these questions of each bodily part and found that each one of them remained in keeping with its own intrinsic nature. The skin was skin, the flesh was flesh, the tendons were tendons and so forth. They had been so from the day of birth. Pain, on the other hand, is something that comes and goes periodically; it’s not always there in the same way that flesh and skin are. Ordinarily, the pain and the body appear to be all bound up together. But are they really?
Focusing inward, I could see that each part of the body was a physical reality. What is real stays that way. As I searched the mass of bodily pain, I saw that one point was more severe than all the others. If pain and body are one, and all parts of the body are equally real, then why was the pain stronger in one part than in another? So I tried to separate out and isolate each aspect. At that point in the investigation, mindfulness and wisdom were indispensable. They had to sweep through the areas that hurt and then whirl around the most intense ones, always working to separate the feeling from the body. Having observed the body, they quickly shifted their attention to the pain, then to the mind.
These three: body, pain and mind are the major principles in this investi- gation. Although the bodily pain was obviously very strong, I could see that the mind was calm and un- afflicted. No matter how much discomfort the body suffered, the mind was not distressed or agitated. This intrigued me. Normally the defilements join forces with pain, and this alliance causes the mind to be disturbed by the body’s suffering. This prompted wisdom to probe into the nature of the body, the nature of pain and the nature of the mind until all three were perceived clearly as separate realities, each true in its own natural sphere.
I saw clearly that it was the mind that defined feeling as being painful and unpleasant. Otherwise, pain was merely a natural phenomenon that occurred. It was not an integral part of the body, nor was it intrinsic to the mind. As soon as this principle became absolutely clear, the pain vanished in an instant. At that moment, the body was simply the body – a separate reality on its own. Pain was simply feeling, and in a flash that feeling vanished straight into the mind. As soon as the pain vanished into the mind, the mind knew that the pain had disappeared. It just vanished without a trace.
In addition, the entire physical body vanished from awareness. At that moment I was not consciously aware of the body at all. Only a simple and har- monious awareness remained, alone on its own. That’s all. The mind was so ex- ceedingly refined as to be indescribable. It simply knew – a profoundly subtle inner state of awareness pervaded. The body had completely disappeared. Al- though my physical form still sat in meditation, I was completely unconscious of it. The pain too had disappeared. No physical feelings were left at all. Only the mind’s essential awareness remained. All thinking had stopped; the mind was not forming a single thought. When thinking ceases, not the slightest move- ment disturbs the inner stillness. Unwavering, the mind remains firmly fixed in its own solitude.
Due to the power of mindfulness and wisdom, the hot, searing pain that afflicted my body had vanished completely. Even my body had disappeared from consciousness. The knowing presence existed alone, as though suspended in midair. It was totally empty, but at the same time vibrantly aware. Because the physical elements did not interact with it, the mind had no sense that the body existed. This knowing presence was a pure and solitary awareness that was not connected to anything whatsoever. It was awesome, majestic and truly magnificent.
It was an incredibly amazing experience. The pain was completely gone. The body had disappeared. An awareness so fine and subtle that I cannot de- scribe it was the only thing not to disappear. It simply appeared; that’s all I can say. It was a truly amazing inner state of being. There was no movement – not even the slightest rippling – inside the mind. It remained fully absorbed in still- ness until enough time had elapsed, then it stirred as it began to withdraw from samadhi. It rippled briefly and then went quiet again.
This rippling happens naturally of its own accord. It cannot be intended. Any intention brings the mind right back to normal consciousness. When the mind absorbed in stillness has had enough, it begins to stir. It is aware that a ripple stirs briefly and then ceases. Some moments later it ripples briefly again, disappearing in the same instant. Gradually, the rippling becomes more and more frequent. When the mind has converged to the very base of samadhi, it does not withdraw all at once. This was very evident to me. The mind rippled only slightly, meaning that a thought formed briefly only to disappear before it could become intelligible. Having rippled, it just vanished. Again and again it rippled and vanished, gradually increas- ing in frequency until my mind eventu- ally returned to ordinary consciousness. I then became aware of my physical presence, but the pain was still gone. Initially I felt no pain at all, and only slowly did it begin to reappear.
This experience reinforced the solid spiritual foundation in my heart with an unshakable certainty. I had realized a ba- sic principle in contending with pain: pain, body and mind are all distinctly separate phenomena. But because of a single mental defilement – delusion – they all converge into one. Delusion pervades the mind like an insidious poison, contaminating our perceptions and distorting the truth. Pain is simply a natural phenomenon that occurs on its own. But when we grab hold of it as a burning discomfort, it immediately becomes hot – because our defining it in that way makes it hot.
After awhile the pain returned, so I had to tackle it again – without retreat- ing. I probed deep into the painful feelings, investigating them as I had done before. But this time, I could not use the same investigative techniques that I had previously used to such good effect. Techniques employed in the past were no longer relevant to the present moment. In order to keep pace with internal events as they unfolded, I needed fresh tactics, newly devised by mindfulness and wisdom and tailor-made for present circumstances. The nature of the pain was still the same, but the tactics had to be suitable to the immediate con- ditions. Even though I had used them successfully once before, I could not remedy the new situation by holding on to old investigative techniques. Fresh, innovative techniques were required, ones devised in the heat of battle to deal with present-moment conditions. Mindfulness and wisdom went to work anew, and before long the mind once again converged to the very base of samadhi.
During the course of that night, the mind converged like this three times, but I had to engage in bouts of hand-to-hand combat each time. After the third time, dawn came, bringing to a close that decisive showdown. The mind emerged bold, exultant and utterly fearless. Fear of death ceased that night.
Painful feelings are just naturally occurring phenomena that constantly fluctuate between mild and severe. As long as we do not make them into a personal burden, they don’t have any special meaning for the mind. In and of itself, pain means nothing, so the mind remains unaffected. The physical body is also meaningless in and of itself, and it adds no meaning either to feelings or to oneself – unless, of course, the mind invests it with a specific meaning, gath- ering in the resultant suffering to burn itself. External conditions are not really responsible for our suffering, only the mind can create that.
Getting up that morning, I felt indescribably bold and daring. I marveled at the amazing nature of my experience. Nothing comparable had ever hap- pened in my meditation before. The mind had completely severed its connec- tion with all objects of attention, converging inward with true courage. It had converged into that majestic stillness because of my thorough and painstaking investigations. When it withdrew, it was still full of an audacious courage that knew no fear of death. I now knew the right investigative techniques, so I was certain that I’d have no fear the next time pain appeared. It would, after all, be pain with just the same characteristics. The physical body would be the same old body. And wisdom would be the same faculty I had used before. For this reason, I felt openly defiant, without fear of pain or death.
Once wisdom had come to realize the true nature of what dies and what does not, death became something quite ordinary. Hair, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, bones: reduced to their original elemental form, they are simply the earth el- ement. Since when did the earth element ever die? When they decompose and disintegrate, what do they become? All parts of the body revert to their original properties. The earth and water elements revert to their original proper- ties, as do the wind and fire elements. Nothing is annihilated. Those elements have simply come together to form a lump in which the mind then takes up residence. The mind – the great master of delusion – comes in and animates it, and then carries the entire burden by making a self- identity out of it. “This is me, this belongs to me.” Reserving the whole mass for itself, the mind accumulates endless amounts of pain and suffering, burning itself with its own false assumptions.
The mind itself is the real culprit, not the lump of physical elements. The body is not some hostile entity whose constant fluctuations threaten our well- being. It is a separate reality that changes naturally according to its own inher- ent conditions. Only when we make false assumptions about it does it become a burden we must carry. That is precisely why we suffer from bodily pain and discomfort. The physical body does not produce suffering for us; we ourselves produce it. Thus I saw clearly that no external conditions can cause us to suffer. We are the ones who misconceive things, and that misconception creates the blaze of pain that troubles our hearts.
I understood clearly that nothing dies. The mind certainly doesn’t die; in fact, it becomes more pronounced. The more fully we investigate the four ele- ments, breaking them down into their original properties, the more distinctly pronounced the mind appears. So where is death to be found? And what is it that dies? The four elements – earth, water, wind and fire – they don’t die. As for the mind, how can it die? It becomes more conspicuous, more aware and more insightful. The mind’s awareness never dies, so why is it so afraid of death? Because it deceives itself. For eons and eons, it has fooled itself into believing in death when actually nothing ever dies.
So when pain arises in the body, we must realize that it is merely feeling, and nothing else. Don’t define it in personal terms and assume that it is some- thing happening to you. Pains have afflicted your body since the day you were born. The pain that you experienced at the moment you emerged from your mother’s womb was excruciating. Only by surviving such torment are human beings born. Pain has been there from the very beginning, and it’s not about to reverse course or alter its character. Bodily pain always exhibits the same basic characteristics: having arisen, it remains briefly and then ceases. Arising, remaining briefly, ceasing – that’s all there is to it.
Investigate painful feelings arising in the body so as to see them clearly for what they are. The body itself is merely a physical form, the physical reality you have known since birth. But when you believe that you are your body, and your body hurts, then you are in pain. Being equated, body, pain and the awareness that perceives them then converge into one: your painful body. Physical pain arises due to some bodily malfunction. It arises dependent on some aspect of the body, but it is not itself a physical phenomenon. Awareness of both body and feelings is dependent on the mind – the one who knows them. But when the one who’s aware of them knows them falsely, then concern about the physi- cal cause of the pain and its apparent intensity cause emotional pain to arise. Pain not only hurts, but it indicates that there is something wrong with you – your body. Unless you can separate out these three distinct realities, physical pain will always cause emotional distress.
The body is merely a physical phenomenon. We can believe whatever we like about it, but that will not alter fundamental principles of truth. Physical existence is one such fundamental truth. Four elemental properties – earth, water, wind and fire – gather together in a certain configuration to form what is called a “person”. This physical presence may be identified as a man or a woman and be given a specific name and social status, but essentially it is just a physical heap. Lumped together, all the constituent parts form a human body, a distinct physical reality. And each separate part is an integral part of that one funda- mental reality. The four elements join together in many different ways. In the human body we speak of the skin, the flesh, the tendons, the bones and so forth. But don’t be fooled into thinking of them as separate realities simply because they have different names. See them all as one essential reality – the physical heap.
As for the heap of feelings, they exist in their own sphere. They are not part of the physical body. The body isn’t feeling either. It has no direct part in physical pain. These two heaps – body and feeling – are more prominent than the heaps of memory, thought and consciousness which, because they vanish as soon as they arise, are far more difficult to see. Feelings, on the other hand, remain briefly before they vanish. This causes them to standout, making them easier to isolate during meditation.
Focus directly on painful feelings when they arise and strive to understand their true nature. Confront the challenge head on. Don’t try to avoid the pain by focusing your attention elsewhere. And resist any temptation to wish for the pain to go away. The purpose of the investigation must be a search for true understanding. The neutralization of pain is merely a byproduct of the clear understanding of the principles of truth. It cannot be taken as the primary ob- jective. That will only create the conditions for greater emotional stress when the relief one wishes for fails to materialize. Stoic endurance in the face of in- tense pain will not succeed either. Nor will concentrating single-mindedly on pain to the exclusion of the body and the mind. In order to achieve the proper results, all three factors must be included in the investigation. The investigation must always be direct and purposeful.
The Lord Buddha – the Great Samana – taught us to investigate with the aim of seeing the Noble Truth of Suffering: that all pain is simply a phenomenon that arises, remains briefly and then vanishes. Don’t become entangled in it. Don’t view the pain in personal terms, as an inseparable part of who you are, for that runs counter to pain’s true nature. Such a view undermines the tech- niques used to investigate pain, preventing wisdom from knowing the reality of feelings. Don’t create a problem for yourself where none exists. See the Noble Truth of Suffering as it arises in each moment of pain, observing the feeling as it remains briefly and vanishes. That’s all there is to pain.


No Abiding | Ajahn Chah

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
No Abiding | Ajahn Chah
/

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Chah and is titled No Abiding. It was published as part of the Collected Teachings of Ajahn Chah published by Aruna Publications.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donate” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.

This work is licenced under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0

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No Abiding
by Ajahn Chah
WE HEAR SOME of the teachings and can’t really understand them. We think they shouldn’t be the way they are, so we don’t follow them, but really there is a reason to all the teachings. Maybe it seems that things shouldn’t be that way, but they are. At first I didn’t even believe in sitting meditation. I couldn’t see what use it would be to just sit with your eyes closed. And walking meditation, walking from this tree to that tree, turning around and walking back again. `Why bother?’ I thought, `What’s the use of all that walking?’ I thought like that, but actually walking and sitting meditation are of great use.
Some people’s tendencies cause them to prefer walking meditation, others prefer sitting, but you can’t do without either of them. The scriptures refer to the four postures: standing, walking, sitting and lying down. We live with these four postures. We may prefer one to the other, but we must use all four.
The scriptures say to make these four postures even, to make the practice even in all postures. At first I couldn’t figure out what it meant to make them even. Maybe it means we sleep for two hours, then stand for two hours, then walk for two hours . . . maybe that’s it? I tried it couldn’t do it, it was impossible! That’s not what it meant to make the postures even. `Making the postures even’ refers to the mind, to our awareness, giving rise to wisdom in the mind, to illumine the mind. This wisdom of ours must be present in all postures; we must know, or understand, constantly. Standing, walking, sitting or lying down, we know all mental states as impermanent, unsatisfactory and not-self. Making the postures even in this way can be done, it is possible. Whether like or dislike are present in the mind, we don’t forget our practice, we are aware.
If we just focus our attention on the mind constantly then we have the gist of the practice. Whether we experience mental states which the world knows as good or bad we don’t forget ourselves. We don’t get lost in good or bad, we just go straight. Making the postures constant in this way is possible.
If we have constancy in our practice, when we are praised, then it’s simply praise; if we are blamed, it’s just blame. We don’t get high or low over it, we stay right here. Why? Because we see the danger in all those things, we see their results. We are constantly aware of the danger in both praise and blame. Normally, if we have a good mood the mind is good also, we see them as the same thing; if we have a bad mood the mind goes bad as well, we don’t like it. This is the way it is, this is uneven practice.
If we have constancy just to the extent of knowing our moods, and knowing we’re clinging to them, this is better already. That is, we have awareness, we know what’s going on, but we still can’t let go. We see ourselves clinging to good and bad, and we know it. We cling to good and know it’s not right practice, but we still can’t let go. This is fifty to seventy per cent of the practice already. There still isn’t release but we know that if we could let go, that would be the way to peace. We keep seeing the equally harmful consequences of all our likes and dislikes, of praise and blame, continuously. Whatever the conditions may be, the mind is constant in this way.
But if worldly people get blamed or criticized, they get really upset. If they get praised it cheers them up, they say it’s good and get really happy over it. If we know the truth of our various moods, if we know the consequences of clinging to praise and blame, the danger of clinging to anything at all, we will become sensitive to our moods. We will know that clinging to them really causes suffering. We see this suffering, and we see our very clinging as the cause of that suering. We begin to see the consequences of grabbing and clinging to good and bad, because we’ve grasped them and seen the result before no real happiness. So now we look for the way to let go.
Where is this `way to let go’? In Buddhism we say `Don’t cling to any- thing.’ We never stop hearing about this `don’t cling to anything!’ This means to hold, but not to cling. Like this flashlight. We think, `What is this?’ So we pick it up, `Oh, it’s a flashlight,’ then we put it down again. We hold things in this way.
If we didn’t hold anything at all, what could we do ? We couldn’t do walking meditation or do anything, so we must hold things rst. It’s wanting, yes, that’s true, but later on it leads to parami (virtue or perfection). Like wanting to come here, for instance. Venerable Jagaro came to Wat Pah Pong. He had to want to come first. If he hadn’t felt that he wanted to come he wouldn’t have come. For anybody it’s the same, they come here because of wanting. But when wanting arises don’t cling to it! So you come, and then you go back. What is this? We pick it up, look at it and see, `Oh, it’s a flashlight,’ then we put it down. This is called holding but not clinging, we let go. We know and then we let go. To put it simply we say just this, `Know, then let go.’ Keep looking and letting go. `This, they say is good; this they say is not good’ . . . know, and then let go. Good and bad, we know it all, but we let it go. We don’t foolishly cling to things, but we `hold’ them with wisdom. Practising in this `posture’ can be constant. You must be constant like this. Make the mind know in this way; let wisdom arise. When the mind has wisdom, what else is there to look for?
We should reflect on what we are doing here. For what reason are we living here, what are we working for? In the world they work for this or that reward, but the monks teach something a little deeper than that. Whatever we do, we ask for no return. We work for no reward. Worldly people work because they want this or that, because they want some gain or other, but the Buddha taught to work just in order to work; we don’t ask for anything beyond that.
If you do something just to get some return it’ll cause suffering. Try it out for yourself! You want to make your mind peaceful so you sit down and try to make it peaceful you’ll suer! Try it. Our way is more refined. We do, and then let go; do, and then let go.
Look at the Brahmin who makes a sacrifice. He has some desire in mind, so he makes a sacrifice. Those actions of his won’t help him transcend suffering because he’s acting on desire. In the beginning we practise with some desire in mind; we practise on and on, but we don’t attain our desire. So we practise until we reach a point where we’re practising for no return, we’re practising in order to let go.
This is something we must see for ourselves, it’s very deep. Maybe we practise because we want to go to Nibbana1 right there, you won’t get to Nibbana! It’s natural to want peace, but it’s not really correct. We must practise without wanting anything at all. If we don’t want anything at all, what will we get? We don’t get anything! Whatever you get is a cause for suffering, so we practise not getting anything.
Just this is called `making the mind empty’. It’s empty but there is still doing. This emptiness is something people don’t usually understand; only those who reach it see the real value of it. It’s not the emptiness of not having anything, it’s emptiness within the things that are here. Like this flashlight: we should see this flashlight as empty; because of the flashlight there is emptiness. It’s not the emptiness where we can’t see anything, it’s not like that. People who understand like that have got it all wrong. You must understand emptiness within the things that are here.
Those who are still practising because they have some gaining idea are like the Brahmin making a sacrifice just to fulfill some wish. Like the
people who come to see me to be sprinkled with `holy water’. When I ask them, `Why do you want this holy water?’ they say, `we want to live happily and comfortably and not get sick.’ There! They’ll never transcend suffering that way.
The worldly way is to do things for a reason, to get some return, but in Buddhism we do things without the idea of gaining anything. The world has to understand things in terms of cause and effect, but the Buddha teaches us to go above and beyond cause and effect. His wisdom was to go above cause, beyond effect; to go above birth and beyond death; to go above happiness and beyond suffering.
Think about it, there’s nowhere to stay. We people live in a `home’. To leave home and go where there is no home, we don’t know how to do it, because we’ve always lived with becoming, with clinging. If we can’t cling we don’t know what to do.
So most people don’t want to go to Nibbana, there’s nothing there; nothing at all. Look at the roof and the oor here. The upper extreme is the roof, that’s an `abiding’. The lower extreme is the floor, and that’s another `abiding’. But in the empty space between the oor and the roof there’s nowhere to stand. One could stand on the roof, or stand on the floor, but not on that empty space. Where there is no abiding, that’s where there’s emptiness, and Nibbana is this emptiness.
People hear this and they back up a bit, they don’t want to go. They’re afraid they won’t see their children or relatives. This is why, when we bless the laypeople, we say, `May you have long life, beauty, happiness and strength.’ This makes them really happy, `sadhu’! they all say. They like these things. If you start talking about emptiness they don’t want it, they’re attached to abiding.
But have you ever seen a very old person with a beautiful complexion? Have you ever seen an old person with a lot of strength, or a lot of happiness? No, but we say, `Long life, beauty, happiness and strength’ and they’re all really pleased, every single one says sadhu! This is like the Brahmin who makes oblations to achieve some wish.

In our practice we don’t `make oblations’, we don’t practise in order
to get some return. We don’t want anything. If we want something then there is still something there. Just make the mind peaceful and have done with it. But if I talk like this you may not be very comfortable, because you want to be `born’ again.
All you lay practitioners should get close to the monks and see their practice. To be close to the monks means to be close to the Buddha, to be close to his Dhamma. The Buddha said, `Ananda, practise a lot, develop your practice! Whoever sees the Dhamma sees me, and whoever sees me sees the Dhamma.’
Where is the Buddha? We may think the Buddha has been and gone, but the Buddha is the Dhamma, the Truth. Some people like to say, `Oh, if I had been born in the time of the Buddha I would have gone to Nibbana.’ Here, stupid people talk like this. The Buddha is still here. The Buddha is truth. Regardless of whoever is born or dies, the truth is still here. The truth never departs from the world, it’s there all the time. Whether a Buddha is born or not, whether someone knows it or not, the truth is still there.
So we should get close to the Buddha, we should come within and find the Dhamma. When we reach the Dhamma we will reach the Buddha; seeing the Dhamma we will see the Buddha, and all doubts will dissolve.
To give a comparison, it’s like teacher Choo. At rst he wasn’t a teacher, he was just Mr. Choo. When he studied and passed the necessary grades he became a teacher, and became known as teacher Choo. How did he become a teacher? Through studying the required subjects, thus allowing Mr. Choo to become teacher Choo. When teacher Choo dies, the study to become a teacher still remains, and whoever studies it will become a teacher. That course of study to become a teacher doesn’t disappear anywhere, just like the Truth, the knowing of which enabled the Buddha to become the Buddha.
So the Buddha is still here. Whoever practises and sees the Dhamma sees the Buddha. These days people have got it all wrong, they don’t know where the Buddha is. They say, `If I had been born in the time of the Buddha I would have become a disciple of his and become enlightened.’ That’s just foolishness.
Don’t go thinking that at the end of the Rains Retreat you’ll disrobe. Don’t think like that! In an instant an evil thought can arise in the mind, you could kill somebody. In the same way, it only takes a split-second for good to ash into the mind, and you’re there already.
And don’t think that you have to ordain for a long time to be able to meditate. The right practice lies in the instant we make kamma. In a flash an evil thought arises and before you know it you’ve committed some heavy kamma. In the same way, all the disciples of the Buddha practised for a long time, but the time they attained enlightenment was merely one thought moment.
So don’t be heedless, even in minor things. Try hard, try to get close to the monks, contemplate things and then you’ll know about monks. Well, that’s enough, huh? It must be getting late now, some people are getting sleepy. The Buddha said not to teach Dhamma to sleepy people.


Sati Protects The Citta | Ajahn Tate

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Sati Protects The Citta | Ajahn Tate
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This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Tate and is titled “Sati Protects the Citta”. A quick note on translation: in this talk the Pali word “sati” will be used extensively, and this means “mindfulness”; also, the word “citta” is used a lot, and this refers to the “mind” or “heart”. This talk gives instructions on how mindfulness – “sati” – can be used to protect the mind – “citta” – and to ultimately see its true nature.

This teaching was translated by Steven Towler and was made available for free distribution in the publication “Words of the Master” which was published in 2023. You can find links to the original text in the show notes below.

May you all benefit from hearing this gift of dhamma.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

 

More information about this episode can be found on the Forest Path Podcast website.

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Sati Protects the Citta
by Ajahn Tate
Focus your attention on the Citta.
When we practise meditation, we rely on Sati. Sati is important. Consistently focus mindfulness on the Citta. Confine your attention to the Citta.
When you see the Citta, focus your attention there and then you will understand what this desana10 is about. This Citta is the only thing that you need to take care of. Nothing else matters!
The Citta is superior to the sense organs and every part of the body. It rushes about all over the place and delivers anxiety, worry, pain and suffering. This is all because of the Citta. If we take care of the Citta and have it behave with propriety, it will see the suffering and white-hot trouble that it brings and, when we do, these things will cease. Happiness will be achieved.
In so much as we do not understand the Citta, not having Sati there to protect it, the Citta flits from one form of suffering to another. It stays in this state until it understands what’s going on. When it does understand what is happening, happiness follows. At present, it does not have a clue as to what is going on, so it continues to flit about. This is why the Citta is our number one priority for care and protection. Every aspect of meditation converges on this single spot, the Citta. So, you only have one thing to take care of. I want you to earnestly and sincerely protect your Citta.
Right now, we are going to sit in meditation and listen to a desana. We are going to take control of the Citta and place it in a cocoon of Sati. Sati is the one that watches over the Citta. When the Citta rests in the cocoon of Sati, job done.
Sati is the one who continually protects and cares for the Citta. Sati is mindfulness. The Citta is the one who thinks, who ruminates, who flits about. In these circumstances, this is how we define Sati. If there was no Citta, there would be no Sati. If there was no Sati, there would be no Citta. In truth, they are one and the same but they exhibit different characteristics. They have different functions.
Sati is like a nursemaid. The Citta is like a toddler. Sati looks after the Citta all the time. The nursemaid has to be watchful of the naughty child, else it may get into trouble or fall and hurt itself. Whatever happens, one must maintain Sati. The nursemaid must be ever-present! Before the toddler can face danger, a little time must be spent raising the child. Several years may pass as the child grows up. When some maturity has been reached, there are other things to look out for, such as being mischievous and playing around all the time. One must guard against these things. This is necessary because you are still dealing with a child. Caution must be exercised at all times as the child develops through teenage years and onwards. When it misbehaves badly, Sati must be applied constantly, until the child is grown up. Sati must be aware from the very first thought right through to the flitting around and the chasing down of every possible avenue for suffering. Sati must provide non-stop protection.
As far as the child is concerned, it has a physical body and when we cocoon the Citta (with Sati) it’s like it too has a body. It becomes clear to see. Whether the Citta is at home or away or running around all over the place, all becomes crystal clear. It really does seem to have an embodiment.
When we look after the Citta and cocoon it with Sati firmly established, it will converge into a single spot11, the Heart. That is to say, it will be centred12. Then, it has no whereabouts. Wherever this singularity is encountered, that is where the Heart is, right there. It is neither inside or outside, above or below. The Heart is centred. Where is it? Right in the middle.
Train Sati to cocoon the Citta so that it consistently reaches the singularity. Then it will gradually obtain the strength and ability to investigate various things. It will be able to overcome and extinguish all manner of suffering. There is no possibility that inflamed passion or anxiety could arise.
Right now, we are not centred and so we cannot let go of suffering. Suffering is anxiety, trouble and strife. In our state of delusion, happiness is seen as pleasure, but this doesn’t lead to the singularity, ever.
When you have reached the singularity, whatever suffering is, you will know as suffering. You will be able to cast aside suffering. You won’t be fooled by happiness and pleasure won’t intoxicate you. You will be centred. You won’t be happy or discontent or confused. You won’t suffer.
Sati is one thing. The Citta is one thing. Sati cocoons the Citta. When they come together in this way, they become the Heart, singular. There is nothing more important than the Heart. The Citta breaks out from the Heart. If there is no Heart, there is no Citta. Wherever there is a Citta, there is a Heart. Wherever the Heart is, that’s where the Citta is. This is where you will find them. To all intents and purposes, they are defined in the same way.
So, why did the Lord Buddha call it the Heart? Why did He call it the Citta? He explained that the Heart is a singularity that does not go flitting about. It has no evil or unwholesome thoughts. It does not think about merit or anything else for that matter. The Heart is centred and that’s it. It has nothing. It does not think. It does not rationalise. It does not invent. It does not embellish. Because of this, it does not give rise to Paññā (wisdom). Put this aside for a moment and stick with being centred. Paññā arising or not arising, is not the point. Before you reach the point of singularity, you have to use an enormous amount of Paññā. You must investigate every aspect of every (worldly) theme13 with all the force that you can muster. At this stage Paññā has been used extensively. When every avenue has been exhaustively investigated, the singularity is entered. People think that this singularity has no Paññā but, in reality, Paññā has been used extensively in order to get there. When centred, there is no activity.
If you want to get a feel for what it is like to be centred, just try this exercise. Give it a go. Hold your breath for just a second. There’s no activity. There is stillness and an awareness of the stillness. There’s no thinking or pondering but there is an awareness that there is no thinking. There is no flitting about, going backwards and forwards. There is no consideration of what is wholesome and what is unwholesome at all. The one aware of the stillness, that is the singularity, that is the Heart14. But it’s only momentarily there, as we hold our breath.
When you latch onto this, you will be able to say, this is the Heart.
The time comes when this state breaks up. It becomes the Citta when it starts staggering about, thinking. Sati still envelops and tends to the Citta. The emphasis is then on washing away all unwholesome states; relinquishing phenomena that lead to poor karmic results. That which is meritorious and virtuous must also be abandoned. Merit is no longer wanted. Unwholesomeness is not wanted. This allows you to reach the singularity (again). If you still hold on to merit, you won’t become centred. If you want for unwholesome states, then you won’t become centred. It is when you give up both of these conditions that you become centred. So, exercise Paññā extensively and develop skilful ways of investigation until you reach the Heart.
It is natural for the Heart and the Citta to engage with each other. The Citta enters the state that is the Heart but stays for only a short time and then it is off again. It’s off busying itself with things, as is its want. But if we have Sati firmly established and aware of what is the Heart and what is the Citta, when the Citta is naughty, chasing after various objects, we will comprehend what is happening. Comprehending here means to abandon whatever is no good. When you get rid of all that is no good, you revert to being centred again.
When you practise Samādhi Bhavanā (meditation), if you practise in this manner often and consistently, you won’t get exhausted racing off after the Citta which has no rest station, no break. Racing around does not work. Explore until all avenues of investigation have been exhausted. If you get this right, you will be back for more, back to the Heart. If you get this wrong, you will be running flat out in a gigantic way.
No matter what, I want you to understand what it means to consistently reach the Heart. Achieving the peace and quiet associated with being at one is the best kind of work. Even if there is no Paññā, take whatever you can get. Accept this for the time being. Accept the peace and quiet. If you are steadfast in your practise, these things will happen by themselves.
Have no fear. Don’t be afraid that the Citta will stop thinking. Don’t be afraid your imagination will be gone. Thinking, pondering and imagining, your understanding will keep pace with them if you have been able to reach the Heart. This is the kind of work you have to put in to train in meditation. It doesn’t matter whether it is Ānāpānasati (meditation on the breath), Maraņasati (meditation on death), or Buddho (repetition of a mantra), or whatever meditation subject you use, their purpose is to take you to the Heart. Their purpose is to develop the protection of Sati. If you cannot have Sati protect the Heart, or if the protection isn’t fixed, it does not matter what else happens, it will be completely useless.
We only have one Citta associated with this body, and it is the most important thing there is. Everyone across the world is the same, each with their own Citta. This is where all the turmoil comes from. If everyone looked after their own Citta, there wouldn’t be any turmoil. There would be nothing but contentment. If everyone cared for their own Citta and had Sati protect it, this would be sufficient. The reason for turmoil, confusion and entanglement is a lack of understanding of our own Heart. When none of us can take care of our Heart, there is greed and animosity, cutting through everything. All this arises from the Heart15. Just the Heart.
So, what has the Heart got? Does Lobha (greed) creep into the Heart. How could Lobha get there? Where does Dosa (anger) come into things? Does this reside in the Heart? Is there Moha (delusion) in the Heart? I don’t see where there is a storage place for these in the Heart. I don’t see the Heart as having substance. So, what has it got? The Heart is a void. It is empty. It has no substance.
People think (Lobha, Dosa and Moha) are good things but what is good about them? Anger, greed, delusion, people think themselves wonderful because of having these traits. They consider themselves to be good people. But what is good about them? How can they be wonderful? All they have are troubles and strife.
For example, our possessions. Lobha makes us greedy for them. What is that all about? You want to eat, consume or use them. And what is it that makes use of these possessions? It is this body, which gets large, fat and obese, isn’t it? You don’t see a problem with that, but old people are decaying by the day.
The same is true for Dosa and Māna (conceit, pride). False views arise but you think they are the real thing. You believe there is a “self”, a “me” a “them” in corporeality. Mānaditthi (conceited false views) having arisen are held onto stubbornly. What is this about? You don’t see a problem with this? Does this corporeal body not grow and expand? Is it now16 better, more special than the old one? Is it younger and prettier than the old one? Or what’s the deal if the body is not more beautiful? If all you have is a sullen look, a disfigured face or the countenance of a demon or the devil, isn’t it better just to live a good life?
Moha, delusion, is no different. Before Lobha can arise, there has to be Moha, delusion. After Moha appears greed, animosity and misunderstanding occur. I implore you to investigate and see this for yourself. When you have managed to achieve this, job done.
Moha, Dosa and Mānaditthi will cease. There will be a void, empty of anything. You dwell indifferent to everything. Isn’t this better?
Get to the Heart, the singularity. You will be happy, in good health and nothing will threaten you. There will be no inconvenience wherever you go. You won’t be attached to the world. People with Dosa and Mānaditthi are completely attached. They won’t give in and will be troubled wherever they go.
I implore you to investigate in this manner. If you examine things in the right way, this way, (your Citta) will converge and become the Heart.
That’s it for now. Investigate in this way!




The Work of a Contemplative | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
The Work of a Contemplative | Ajahn Maha Boowa
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This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled The Work of a Contemplative. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donate” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


The Work Of A Contemplative
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
Here at Baan Taad Forest Monastery, we don’t practice in line with people’s wishes and opinions, but rather in line with the principles of Dhamma and Vinaya, the principles of Buddhism. We do this for the sake of the public at large who rely on the religion as a guiding principle in what is good and right, and who rely on the good and right behavior of monks and novices, the religious leaders for Buddhists at large. For this reason, I’m not interested in favoring anyone’s opinions over and above the principles of Dhamma and Vinaya that are the basis of Buddhist practice. If our minds start to bend under the influence of the views and opinions of any one person – or even of the worldly majority who have no limits or standards – then monasteries and the religion will come to have no limits or standards either. Monasteries that bend under the influence of the world, without any reasonable underlying support, will lack order and discipline. They will become monasteries that have no religious substance remaining in them at all. Those who seek things of real value to revere and respect – in other words, intelligent people – will be unable to find any substantial goodness that will have a hold on their hearts, because there will be nothing but worthless, counterfeit things filling the monasteries, filling the monks, the novices and the nuns, filling everything every- where. In homes as well as in monasteries, in the area of the world as well as the Dhamma, everything will get mixed into being one with what is counterfeit and lacking in any true value.
For this reason, we must keep things in their separate places. The religion and the world, even though they may exist side by side, are not the same thing. A monastery – whether it’s located in a town, outside of a town or in a forest – is not the same as a town. The people who come to stay there are not the same as ordinary people. The monastery has to be a monastic community. The monks have to be monastics with their own independent Dhamma and Vinaya that don’t rely on any particular individual. This is an important principle that can impress the hearts of intelligent people who are searching for inspiring principles of truth to revere and respect. I view things from this angle more than any other. Even the Buddha, our Teacher, viewed things from this angle, as we can see from the time he addressed Venerable Nagita.
When a crowd of people came to see the Buddha, shouting and making a big racket, he said, “Nagita, who is that coming our way, making a commotion like fishmongers squabbling over fish? We don’t aspire to this sort of behavior, which brings destruction to the religion. The religion is something to guard and preserve so that the world will find peace and calm – like clear, clean water well-guarded and preserved so that people in general can drink and bathe at their convenience. The religion is like clear, clean water, which is why we don’t want anyone to disturb it, to make it muddy and turbid.”
This is what the Buddha said to Venerable Nagita. He then told Venerable Nagita to send the crowd away, telling them that their manner and the time of day – it was night – were not appropriate for visiting the monks who live in qui- et solitude. Polite manners are things that intelligent people choose, and there are plenty of other times to come. This is a time when the monks want quietude, so they shouldn’t be disturbed in a way that wastes their time and causes them difficulties without serving any purpose at all.
This is an example set by our Teacher. He wasn’t the sort of person to min- gle and associate with lay people at all hours without any reasonable limits or rules – as though the religion was a distillery, and the monks and novices were distributing liquor so that the public could be drunk without ever sobering up for a day. Actually, the religion is medicine for curing drunkenness. Monks and novices are supposed to be doctors for curing their own drunkenness and that of the world. They’re not supposed to sell liquor and intoxicants to the point where they have no sense of shame.
Whenever people set foot in the monastery, we assume that they come in good faith – and so we compromise and end up making allowances until we forget ourselves and forget the Dhamma and Vinaya, neglecting proper monas- tic standards to the point where we destroy ourselves, the monastery and the religion bit by bit, day by day, until the whole lot turns to mud. Neither home dwellers nor monastery dwellers can find any principles to hold to. In the end, a lot of worthless stuff is accumulated in the monasteries because the minds of the monks and novices are overcome by defilements.
Because of that, each of us monks should reflect a great deal on these matters. Don’t see anything as having greater value than Dhamma and Vinaya, which are the major principles for uniting the hearts of Buddhist practitioners in confidence, conviction and peace. If the principles of Dhamma and Vinaya are lacking or deficient, the benefits received by Buddhists will have to be deficient in turn, until nothing remains to sustain their hearts. Even though the Buddha’s teachings fill the texts and copies of the Canon fill every monastery, the impor- tant essence that can inspire people to put their hearts into the practice for the sake of what is beneficial and auspicious doesn’t exist. This is something we can clearly see in the present age.
Monks and novices are important examples that can help the religion prosper and serve as a model to the people who become involved with it for the sake of all things meritorious and auspicious. If monks and novices are in- tent on behaving in line with the principles of Dhamma and Vinaya as taught by the Buddha, they are undoubtedly the ones who will preserve the good pat- tern of the religion and of the paths, the fruitions and Nibbana. People will take them as their standard – because there are still plenty of intelligent people left in the world. As for stupid people, even though they may overflow the planet, they have no fixed standards. When they feel pleased, they praise you. But, that praise merely comes from their stupidity and serves no purpose. When they feel displeased, they criticize you. That criticism serves no purpose, either for them or for you. If intelligent people praise you though, that can be taken to heart and benefits both parties. If they praise the Sangha, they praise it intelligently in line with the principles of truth. At the same time, those members of the Sangha who hold to reason can make themselves a field of merit for others, so that others too can benefit. When intelligent people criticize the Sangha, they have sound reasons which should be considered carefully. We who practice should make ourselves well aware of this point.
Wherever you go, don’t forget that you are a practitioner of the religion, a representative of our Teacher. You’re following the religion and proclaiming it through your practice. This doesn’t mean that you have to teach the public to understand the Dhamma. Just by practicing rightly, you become a visible example that can make them feel conviction in the religion from what they see. Even more so when you can explain the Dhamma correctly according to the principles of practice taught by the Buddha. This is all the more the right and proper proclamation of the religion that good people can trust in their hearts. In this way, the religion will flourish more and more in the hearts of Buddhists.
Wherever you go, wherever you stay, don’t forget these basic principles – moral virtue, samadhi and wisdom – which are the basis of our work as contemplatives. These are the essential principles of each monk’s work. This is when we become “Sons of the Sakyan, of the victorious Buddha.” This is how we become disciples of the Tathagata; not by merely shaving our heads and donning the yellow robe. That’s something of little significance that anyone can do. What’s important is behaving in line with our duties.
Moral virtue: We should be careful to maintain our precepts so that they are never broken or stained. We should be careful, using mindfulness and wis- dom in every activity. Whatever else may get broken, don’t let your precepts get broken, for they are the invaluable treasure of your status as a monk, something on which you can truly stake your life.
Samadhi: If calm and concentration have yet to arise, you should strive to train the heart and bring it under control, coming down hard on the unruli- ness caused by the power of the defilements, so that you can rein it in with the practice. Use mindfulness and wisdom to block the mind’s recklessness so that it settles down in peace and tranquility. This is our samadhi treasure as monks.
Wisdom is intelligence and ingenuity. Wisdom is useful in all places at all times. Always make use of wisdom, both in your internal and external activities.
Wisdom becomes especially important in your internal activities, when you’re investigating the various kinds of mental defilements. Wisdom and mindfulness should not be separated. They have to perform their duties together. Mindfulness keeps watch over the work that wisdom is performing. When mindfulness lapses, their work won’t accomplish its full aims. For this reason, mindfulness is a necessary quality that must always be kept fastened to your work.
These three duties constitute our work as contem- platives. Remember them and always take them to heart. Don’t be apathetic, or you’ll become a shameless monk who is callous to the fact that the world is always bowing down to you.
The word “wisdom” means our ability to investigate and unravel the various factors that become involved with us, both within and without. (And here, I have to ask forgiveness of the men and women interested in the Dhamma who fall under the condition I’m about to dis- cuss. Please reflect on my words in all fairness.) The physi- cal body: Usually it’s the body of the opposite sex that causes meditators the most problems. As the Dhamma says, there is no sight that’s a greater enemy to the mental state of a contemplative than the sight of the opposite sex. The same holds true for the voice, the smell, the taste and the touch of the opposite sex. These are the foremost dan- gers that contemplatives face, so we have to show greater care and restraint toward these sense objects than toward any others. Mindfulness and wisdom must come to terms with these important factors because they can cause more problems than any other aspect of practice.
Therefore, we should analyze the physical body with our wisdom so as to see it clearly. The words “the body of a woman” or “the body of a man” are merely names given in line with convention. Actually, the physical body is not a woman or a man. It’s simply an ordinary body just like ours, covered entirely with skin. If we look inside, there’s flesh, tendons and bones. That body, like ours, is full of filthy and repulsive things. No part of it is basically different from our own body. There is merely recognition in our mind that identifies “woman” or “man”. The words woman and man are deeply engraved within the heart, even though they merely represent suppositions that have no basis in truth.
The same is true with the voice: It’s just an ordinary sound, yet we rec- ognize it as the voice of the opposite sex and so it stabs deep into the heart – especially for those of us who are ordained – and goes clear through, to the point where we forget ourselves. The heart gets cut at the stem, even though we continue to live. The stem of the heart is torn, rotten and putrid, and yet we don’t die. Instead, we listen with pleasure to the song of our heart as it is being cut at the stem, without ever growing tired of it.
The smell: It’s an ordinary smell, just like ours, because it’s the smell of a person. Even if we bring perfumes and scents from the realms of the devas and Brahmas to rub down that body, the smell is the smell of those things, not the smell of a woman or man. So analyze this and make careful distinctions.
The touch of another body is no different from one part of our own body touching another part. Each of the parts is just earth, water, wind and fire, just like ours. We can’t perceive any difference. So we have to investigate clearly and make comparisons, comparing the sight, sound, smell, taste and touch of the woman or man with our own sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. There’s no difference in terms of the true principles of nature, aside from the mind mak- ing assumptions in line with its thoughts.
For this reason, we must use wisdom to unravel these phenomena. Don’t let suppositions of any kind be enemies that infiltrate and destroy your heart. Shake them off using wisdom, reducing them to the truth that these things are just sights, just sounds, just smells, just tastes and just tactile sensations, all of which pass by and disappear like other phenomena. This is without a doubt the right way to contemplate that gradually uproots our attachments and miscon- ceptions concerning these matters.
All the objects that you investigate in the world are changing, unsatisfac- tory and not-self. There’s nothing lasting to be found. All things arise dependent on other factors and then fall apart. Whatever the object: If it exists in the world, it has to fall apart. If it doesn’t fall apart, we will. If it doesn’t break up, we’ll break up. If it doesn’t leave, we’ll leave – because this world is full of leaving and separation through the principles of nature. So, investigate with wisdom in this way to understand them clearly before they leave us or we leave them, and then let them go in line with the truth. When we can do this, the mind will be at ease.
Samadhi refers to the stability and solidity of the heart, beginning with its small moments of stillness and peace, and progressing to the refined and stable levels of complete tranquility. If the mind isn’t trained, isn’t improved, isn’t forced with various tactics backed up by mindfulness, wisdom, conviction and persistence, it won’t be able to attain peace till its dying day. It will die in vain. It will die restless and confused, straying off into 108 different preoccupations. It won’t have any mindfulness or self-awareness. It will die without any prin- ciples or standards to hold to. It will die just as a kite whose string is cut floats wherever the wind blows. Even while still alive, the mind lives without any principles or standards, because of its absent-mindedness and heedless attitude and because it lacks any sense of reasonable purpose. It simply drifts. If we live simply drifting along without any good principles to ground us, then when we go, we’ll have to go simply drifting.
What purpose does drifting serve? What certainty can we have for our destination? So as long as we’re alive and aware, we should build certainty in our hearts by being strong and unflinching in matters of solid worth. Then we can be certain of ourselves both while we live and when we die. We won’t be upset or affected by life or death, by being separated from other people or our own bodies – something we all must meet with, because these things exist within us all.
It’s not the case that wisdom arises automatically on the heels of samadhi when the mind has been centered. Wisdom has to be exercised and trained to think, explore and investigate. Only then will it arise, with samadhi as its support. Samadhi on its own cannot turn into wisdom. It remains as samadhi. Samadhi merely refreshes and calms the mind. When the mind is content in tranquility, it doesn’t want to chase after distracting and confusing thoughts. We then take the tranquil mind and use it with wisdom to investigate and un- ravel various things, all of which are impermanent, unsatisfactory and without self-identity. All phenomena are filled with these same conditions, so use wis- dom to contemplate – from whatever angle most suits your temperament – by investigating these things with interest and with the desire to really know and see them as they truly are. Don’t simply investigate without any intention or mindfulness in control.
In particular, the meditation theme of unattractiveness is a good cure – a very good cure – for the mind obsessed with lust and passion. However strong the lust, that’s how strongly you should investigate unattractiveness until you can see the world with your own body and those of others as a cemetery of fresh corpses. Lust won’t have a chance to flare up when wisdom has penetrat- ed to the knowledge that the body is filled with repulsiveness. Who would feel lust for repulsiveness? Who would feel lust for things with no beauty? For things that are disgusting? This is one form of the medicine of unattractiveness, one of the prime medicines for curing the diseases of lust and craving. Once the mind has continually investigated unattractiveness to the point where it becomes so adept at contemplating the human body that it is able to visualize the body in whatever way it chooses, then the mind will converge to the level of unattrac- tiveness within itself. Seeing the pictures of unattractiveness it paints as being illusions, the mind will then let go of both sides: the side of unattractiveness as well as the side of attractiveness.
Both attractiveness and unattractiveness are memory associations coupled with the affairs of lust. Once we have investigated and fully understood both sides, the word “attractive” will dissolve and no longer have meaning. The word “unattractive” will dissolve and no longer have meaning. That which gives the meanings of attractive and unattractive is the mind or, in other words, memory. We are now wise to memory as being what recognizes things. Because we see the harm of these associations, memory will no longer be able to interpret in such a way as to make the mind grasp and be attached again. When this is the case, the mind lets go of both attractiveness and unattractiveness – or of beauty and ugliness. Until that happens, these perceptions are merely tools for training the mind with wisdom, because the wisdom needed to uproot them is not yet proficient enough to let go.
When wisdom is proficient enough to realize the causes and effects of both sides – both of attractiveness and unattractiveness – it can then turn around to know the function of memory that recognizes things as being attractive or unat- tractive. When wisdom clearly understands how memory functions and sees its harm, memory loses its power. The mind can see that memory is the real culprit. Attractive and unattractive objects are not to blame. The blame lies with memory’s interpretation of objects as being attractive and unattractive, which deceives us into becoming attached. This is where the mind’s focus starts mov- ing inward. As our investigation is drawn inward, the mind steadily lets go of attachments.
When the mind has reached this stage, then attractive and unattractive im- ages will appear in the mind without our having to focus on an external image. Images just appear in the mind. Even though the image appears in mind, we know clearly that the attractive or unattractive aspects of the phenomena that appear there come from memory. We know the image that appears in the mind, as well as the memory that recognizes it. Finally, the images in the mind vanish and memory – the interpretations – disbands. When the function of memory which used to fool us into seeing things as attractive and unattractive has dis- banded, nothing remains to deceive the heart. This is how unattractiveness is investigated in line with the principles of the practice. But, you won’t find this explanation anywhere in the texts. You’ll find the truth only if you search for it in the principles of nature that exist within the body and the mind – where the Four Noble Truths and the Four Foundations of Mindfulness are located. You will find the things I’ve explained here only in the texts of your own heart.
Such is the nature of the body. We know clearly that every part of the body is simply a physical phenomenon. And what is there in these physical phenomena? All the parts – hair of the head, hair of the body, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, tendons, bones, marrow, spleen, heart, liver, membranes, kidneys, lungs, intestines, stomach, gorge, feces – are just physical phenomena, things separate from the mind. If we consider them as unattractive, who is it that gives them meaning, saying that this is attractive or that is unattractive? When did these things ever give themselves meanings? When did they ever say they were attractive or unattractive? They don’t speak for themselves at all. Whatever
their truth is, that’s how it’s always been in line with their nature from the very beginning – but they are unaware of their own meaning. What interprets their meaning is memory. The one that falls for their meaning is also memory, which originates from our deluded mind. Once we are wise to the tricks of memory, all these meanings disappear. Each phenomenon has its separate reality. This is what it means to be wise to mental phenomena.
Feelings refer to the sensations of pleasure, pain and indifference that arise from the body. The body is a phenomenon that has existed since before feel- ings arose. Pains arise, remain and then vanish. The body is the body. The pain is a pain. Each is a separate reality. Investigate and analyze them so as to see them for what they are – just a feeling, just a body – without regarding them as a being, a person, us or anyone else, ours or anyone else’s. The feeling isn’t us, ours or anyone else’s. It’s simply something that appears for a moment and disappears, in line with its nature. That’s the truth of it.
Memory means recognition and interpretation. Whatever it remembers – things near, far, past, present or future – vanishes immediately. It keeps vanish- ing – arising and vanishing, arising and vanishing – so how can we regard it as a self, a being, a person? Here we’re referring to using wisdom on the refined level, which penetrates inward according to the truth that is clear to the heart without our having to ask anyone else.
Thought-formation refers to thought and imagination: Forming good thoughts, bad thoughts and neutral thoughts. These formations constantly arise and vanish, arise and vanish. The mind cannot make any sense out of these thought-formations unless memory takes up where they leave off and turns them into issues. As for memory, we already know it clearly, so what essence can there be in thought-formations that are picked up and turned into long is- sues? They are only mental phenomena arising and vanishing in the mind. This is thought-formation.
Consciousness refers to the field of cognizance, that which takes note the moment external phenomena make contact, as when visual objects make contact with the eye and cognizance occurs. As soon as the object passes, this cognizance vanishes. No matter what phenomenon it takes note of, it’s always ready to vanish with that thing. What sense or substance can we get out of something so fleeting? How can we assume it to be us or ours?
The five components of personal identity have arisen and passed away continuously, moment after moment, from the day of our birth to the present. On their own, they have no real substance and it is impossible to find any. The mind’s interpretation of these phenomena is what lends them a semblance of personal reality. The mind clings to them as the essence of oneself, or as one’s own personal property. This misconception creates a self-identity that becomes a burden heavier than an entire mountain, a burden that the mind carries with- in itself without gaining any benefit. Pain and suffering are its only reward for a misconceived attachment fostered by self-delusion.
When the mind has investigated these things and seen them clearly with sharp, incisive wisdom, the body is known to be a natural phenomenon that is real in accordance with its own inherent physical qualities. It is not intrinsic to oneself and so it is no longer an object of attachment. Bodily feelings – pleas- ant, painful and neutral feelings that occur within the body – are clearly known to be real, but only within their specific domain. They too are relinquished. But wisdom is as yet incapable of seeing through the subtle feelings that arise exclusively within the mind. So pleasant, painful and neutral feelings that occur only within the mind are conditions that the mind continues to be interested in investigating. Although at this stage we are unable to understand the truth about them, these subtle feelings will be constant reminders always prompting the mind to examine them.
Put simply, as soon as wisdom sees through the mental components of personality, the mind lets go. If wisdom has yet to see through them, it holds on. Once wisdom has seen through them completely, the mind relinquishes them all because it sees that they are merely ripplings inside the mind that have no real substance. A good thought arises and ceases; a bad thought arises and ceases – it is all the same. Whatever kind of thought appears in the mind, it is just a configuration created by memory and thought that simply vanishes. There are no exceptions. No thought lasts more than an instant. Thoughts cannot be trusted because they do not last long enough to have any substantial meaning.
Having relinquished all attachment to personal identity, the mind at this level is exceedingly refined. But, although it has let go of everything else, it has yet to let go of itself. It remains permeated by a fundamental ignorance – ignorance about its own true nature. This basic delusion converges into a single point of focus. All of its external outlets having been cut off, it converges into the mind where it has no way to flow out. Delusion’s outlets are the eyes, ears, nose, tongue and body, leading to sights, sounds, smells, tastes and tactile sensations. Once mindfulness and wisdom are skilled enough to cut off these outflows for good, it’s left with no way out. Its external agents have been neu- tralized; all that remains is a subtle incessant vibration resonating within the mind. Being deprived of an outlet for its activities, delusion depends solely on the mind as its base. As long as wisdom is unable to thoroughly transcend it, delusion will appear as subtle feelings of satisfaction, subtle feelings of dissatisfaction and a radiance that is truly awesome and amazing. So the mind keeps focusing the investigation on those factors.
Every conventional reality – regardless of how refined it may be or how bright and majestic it may appear – invariably manifests some irregular symp- toms. These are sufficient to catch the mind’s attention and make it search for a solution. Both the very refined satisfaction and dissatisfaction that arise ex- clusively within the mind, and the truly amazing radiance that emanates from it, have their origin in delusion. But since we have never before encountered them, we are deluded into grasping at them when we first investigate this point. We are lulled sound asleep by delusion, which causes us to believe that the subtle feelings of satisfaction and the amazing bright radiance are our true es- sence beyond name and form. Oblivious to our mistake, we take this majestic mind complete with delusion to be our one true self.
But not for long. At this level, the powerful faculties of supreme-mindful- ness and supreme-wisdom are never complacent. They habitually keep scruti- nizing, investigating and analyzing back and forth all the time. Eventually they must realize the truth. They will notice the subtle feelings of satisfaction and dissatisfaction displaying very slight variations that seem out of keeping with that majestic radiance. Even though the dissatisfaction that manifests is ever so slight, it is enough to make us suspicious. Why does the mind have these vary- ing conditions? It’s never constant. The very slight irregularities observed in the amazingly bright radiance at the center of the mind show just enough fluctua- tion to allow mindfulness and wisdom to catch sight of them.
Once they are detected, mistrust arises, alerting wisdom that they should be investigated. So the quality of the mind’s awareness then becomes the fo- cus of the investigation. Mindfulness and wisdom concentrate on this know- ing point, trying to discover what it really is. They have already investigated everything of every sort to the extent that all other factors have been success- fully eliminated. But this awareness which is so bright and so amazing: what exactly is it? As mindfulness and wisdom continue focusing in, the mind be- comes the focal point of a full-scale investigation. It is turned into a battlefield for supreme-mindfulness and supreme-wisdom. Before long, they are able to destroy the fundamental delusion that appears so magnificently amazing and majestic, totally obliterating it so that not even the smallest trace of it remains within the mind.
When that nature which we believe to be so magnificent and amazing finally disintegrates, something that is impossible to describe arises in full mea- sure. That nature is absolute purity of mind. When compared to that state of purity, the deluded mind that we once held to be so superb resembles a pile of cow dung, and the nature that was concealed by it appears to be pure gold. Which is more precious, pure gold or mushy cow dung? Even a baby sucking its thumb can answer, so we needn’t waste our time and proclaim our stupidity by making comparisons.
This concludes the investigation of the mind. Upon reaching this level, the mind is cut off forever from birth and existence, severed completely from all manifestations of delusion and craving. When delusion is extinguished, con- ditioned phenomena – which give rise to pain and suffering – are also extin- guished. They have disappeared from the mind. Conditioned phenomena such as thoughts continue to function in their own sphere but they no longer cause suffering. They simply give form and direction to mental activity. Conscious- ness arising in the mind is a pure and simple consciousness that no longer pro- duces suffering. All sense media and the sense contact that they condition are just naturally occurring phenomena that exist according to their own intrinsic characteristics. They have no negative effect whatsoever on the mind that has successfully completed its task. This is the total cessation of the entire mass of suffering.
The mind is then free, vast and supremely empty, without limit and without bounds – totally expansive. Nothing encloses or obstructs it. All contradictions have been eliminated. When the mind knows, it knows only the truth; when it sees, it sees only the truth. This is true emptiness.
This concludes the work of a contemplative according to the principles of the Buddha’s teachings. From the time of the Buddha down to the present, these principles have remained constant. There are no deficiencies or excesses in the principles of the Dhamma taught by the Buddha that would make them unable to keep up with the tricks and deceits of the various forms of delusion. The Buddha’s teaching is called the Middle Way because it’s the Dhamma that is always appropriate for countering every sort of delusion to the point where no delusion remains. This is how you should understand the power of the Middle Way. The release from pain and suffering is something with a value that tran- scends all three levels of existence. What can we find in any of the three levels of existence that is more fantastic than the heart’s permanent release from all pain and suffering? When we understand this truth clearly, our efforts in the practice will advance steadily. We’ll be ready to die in the battle for freedom from the heavy burden of delusion.


Convention and Liberation | Ajahn Chah

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Convention and Liberation | Ajahn Chah
/

THE THINGS OF THIS WORLD are merely conventions of our own making. Having established them we get lost in them, and refuse to let go, giving rise to clinging to personal views and opinions. This clinging never ends, it is sam. sara, owing endlessly on. It has no completion. Now, if we know conventional reality then we’ll know liberation. If we clearly know liberation, then we’ll know convention. This is to know the Dhamma. Here there is completion.

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Chah and is titled Convention and Liberation. It was published as part of the Collected Teachings of Ajahn Chah published by Aruna Publications.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donation” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

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Convention And Liberation
by Ajahn Chah
THE THINGS OF THIS WORLD are merely conventions of our own mak- ing. Having established them we get lost in them, and refuse to let go, giving rise to clinging to personal views and opinions. This clinging never ends, it is samsara, f;owing endlessly on. It has no completion. Now, if we know conventional reality then we’ll know liberation. If we clearly know liberation, then we’ll know convention. This is to know the Dhamma. Here there is completion.
Take people, for instance. In reality people don’t have any names, we are born naked into the world. Our names arise only through convention. I’ve contemplated this and seen that if you don’t know the truth of this convention, it can be really harmful. It’s simply something we use for convenience. Without it we couldn’t communicate, there would be nothing to say, no language.
I’ve seen Westerners when they sit in meditation together in the West. When they get up after sitting, men and women together, sometimes they go and touch each other on the head! When I saw this I thought, `Ehh, if we cling to convention it gives rise to defilements right there.’ If we can let go of convention, give up our opinions, we are at peace.
Like the generals and colonels, men of rank and position, who come to see me. When they come they say, `Oh, please touch my head.’1 If they ask like this, there’s nothing wrong with it; they’re glad to have their heads touched. But if you tapped their heads in the middle of the street it’d be a different story! This is because of clinging. So I feel that letting go is really the way to peace. Touching a head is against our customs, but in reality it is nothing. When they agree to having it touched there’s nothing wrong with it, just like touching a cabbage or a potato.
Accepting, giving up, letting go this is the way of lightness. Wherever you’re clinging there’s becoming and birth right there. There’s danger right there. The Buddha taught about convention and he taught to undo convention in the right way, and so reach liberation.
This is freedom: not to cling to conventions. All things in this world have a conventional reality. Having established them we should not be fooled by them, because getting lost in them really leads to suffering. This point concerning rules and conventions is of utmost importance. One who can get beyond them is beyond suffering.
However, they are a characteristic of our world. Take Mr. Boonmah, for instance; he used to be just one of the crowd but now he’s been appointed the District Commissioner. It’s just a convention but it’s a convention we should respect. It’s part of the world of people. If you think, `Oh, before we were friends, we used to work at the tailor’s together,’ and then you go and pat him on the head in public, he’ll get angry. It’s not right, he’ll resent it. So we should follow the conventions in order to avoid giving rise to resentment. It’s useful to understand convention; living in the world is just about this. Know the right time and place, know the person.
Why is it wrong to go against conventions? It’s wrong because of people! You should be clever, knowing both convention and liberation. Know the right time for each. If we know how to use rules and conventions
comfortably then we are skilled. But if we try to behave according to the higher level of reality in the wrong situation, this is wrong. Where is it wrong? It’s wrong with people’s defilements, that’s where! People all have defilements. In one situation we behave one way, in another situation we must behave in another way. We should know the ins and outs because we live within conventions. Problems occur because people cling to them. If we suppose something to be, then it is. It’s there because we suppose it to be there. But if you look closely, in the absolute sense these things don’t really exist.
As I have often said, before we were laymen and now we are monks. We lived within the convention of `layman’ and now we live within the convention of `monk’. We are monks by convention, not monks through liberation. In the beginning we establish conventions like this, but if a person merely ordains, this doesn’t mean he overcomes defilements. If we take a handful of sand and agree to call it salt, does this make it salt? It is salt, but only in name, not in reality. You couldn’t use it to cook with. It’s only use is within the realm of that agreement, because there’s really no salt there, only sand. It becomes salt only through our supposing it to be so.
This word `liberation’ is itself just a convention, but it refers to that which is beyond conventions. Having achieved freedom, having reached liberation, we still have to use convention in order to refer to it as liberation. If we didn’t have convention we couldn’t communicate, so it does have its use.
For example, people have different names, but they are all people just the same. If we didn’t have names to differentiate between each other, and we wanted to call out to somebody standing in a crowd, saying, `Hey, Person! Person!’ would be useless. You couldn’t say who would answer you because they’re all `person’. But if you called, `Hey, John!’ then John would respond, and the others wouldn’t. Names fulfill just this need. Through them we can communicate; they provide the basis for social behaviour.
So you should know both convention and liberation. Conventions have a use, but in reality there really isn’t anything there. Even people are non- existent. They are merely groups of elements, born of causal conditions, growing dependent on conditions, existing for a while, then disappearing in the natural way. No one can oppose or control it. But without conventions we would have nothing to say, we’d have no names, no practice, no work. Rules and conventions are established to give us a language, to make things convenient, and that’s all.
Take money, for example. In olden times there weren’t any coins or notes, they had no value. People used to barter goods, but those things were diffcult to keep, so they created money, using coins and notes. Perhaps in the future we’ll have a new king decree that we don’t have to use paper money, we should use wax, melting it down and pressing it into lumps. We’ll say this is money and use it throughout the country. Let alone wax, they might even decide to make chicken dung the local currency all the other things can’t be money, just chicken dung! Then people would fight and kill each other over chicken dung!
This is the way it is. You could use many examples to illustrate convention. What we use for money is simply a convention that we have set up; it has its use within that convention. Having decreed it to be money, it becomes money. But in reality, what is money? Nobody can say. When there is a popular agreement about something, then a convention comes about to fulfill the need. The world is just this.
This is convention, but to get ordinary people to understand liberation is really dicult. Our money, our house, our family, our children and relatives are simply conventions that we have invented, but really, seen in the light of Dhamma, they don’t belong to us. Maybe if we hear this we don’t feel so good, but reality is like that. These things have value only through the established conventions. If we establish that it doesn’t have value, then it doesn’t have value. If we establish that it has value, then it has value. This is the way it is; we bring convention into the world to fulfill a need.
Even this body is not really ours, we just suppose it to be so. It’s truly just an assumption on our part. If you try to nd a real, substantial self within it, you can’t. There are merely elements which are born, continue for a while and then die. Everything is like this. There’s no real, true substance to it, but it’s proper that we use it. It’s like a cup. At some time that cup must break, but while it’s there you should use it and look after it well. It’s a tool for your use. If it breaks there is trouble, so even though it must break, you should try your utmost to preserve it.
And so we have the four supports1 which the Buddha taught again and again to contemplate. They are the supports on which a monk de- pends to continue his practice. As long as you live you must depend on them, but you should understand them. Don’t cling to them, giving rise to craving in your mind.
Convention and liberation are continually related like this. Even though we use convention, don’t place your trust in it as being the truth. If you cling to it, suffering will arise. The case of right and wrong is a good example. Some people see wrong as being right and right as being wrong, but in the end who really knows what is right and what is wrong? We don’t know. Different people establish different conventions about what’s right and what’s wrong, but the Buddha took suffering as his guide-line. If you want to argue about it there’s no end to it. One says `right’, another says `wrong’. One says `wrong’, another says `right’. In truth we don’t really know right and wrong at all. But at a useful, practical level, we can say that right is not to harm oneself and not to harm others. This way fulfills a constructive purpose for us.
After all, rules, conventions and liberation are simply dhammas. One is higher than the other, but they go hand in hand. There is no way that we can guarantee that anything is definitely like this or like that, so the Buddha said to just leave it be. Leave it be as uncertain. However much you like it or dislike it, you should understand it as uncertain.
Regardless of time and place, the whole practice of Dhamma comes to completion at the place where there is nothing. It’s the place of surrender, of emptiness, of laying down the burden. This is the finish. It’s not like the person who says, `Why is the ag uttering in the wind? I say it’s because of the wind.’ Another person says it’s because of the flag. The other retorts that it’s because of the wind. There’s no end to this! The same as the old riddle, `Which came rst, the chicken or the egg?’ There’s no way to reach a conclusion, this is just nature.
All these things we say are merely conventions, we establish them ourselves. If you know these things with wisdom then you’ll know impermanence, suffering and not-self. This is the outlook which leads to enlightenment.
Training and teaching people with varying levels of understanding is really difficult. Some people have certain ideas; you tell them something and they don’t believe you. You tell them the truth and they say it’s not true. `I’m right, you’re wrong.’ There’s no end to this.
If you don’t let go there will be suffering. I’ve told you before about the four men who go into the forest. They hear a chicken crowing, `Kak- ka-dehhhh!’ One of them wonders, `Is that a rooster or a hen?’ Three of them say together, `It’s a hen,’ but the other doesn’t agree, he insists it’s a rooster. `How could a hen crow like that?’ he asks. They retort, `Well, it has a mouth, hasn’t it?’ They argue and argue till the tears fall, really getting upset over it, but in the end they’re all wrong. Whether you say a hen or a rooster, they’re only names. We establish these conventions, saying a rooster is like this, a hen is like that; a rooster cries like this, a hen cries like that, and this is how we get stuck in the world! Remember this! Actually, if you just say that really there’s no hen and no rooster, then that’s the end of it.
In the eld of conventional reality one side is right and the other side is wrong, but there will never be complete agreement. Arguing till the tears fall has no use.
The Buddha taught not to cling. How do we practise non-clinging? We practise simply by giving up clinging, but this non-clinging is very difficult to understand. It takes keen wisdom to investigate and penetrate this, to really achieve non-clinging.
When you think about it, whether people are happy or sad, content or discontent, doesn’t depend on their having little or having much it depends on wisdom. All distress can be transcended only through wisdom, through seeing the truth of things.
So the Buddha exhorted us to investigate, to contemplate. This contemplation’ means simply to try to solve these problems correctly. This is our practice. Like birth, old age, sickness and death they are the most natural and common of occurrences. The Buddha taught to contemplate birth, old age, sickness and death, but some people don’t understand this. `What is there to contemplate?’ they say. They’re born but they don’t know birth, they will die but they don’t know death.
A person who investigates these things repeatedly will see. Having seen he will gradually solve his problems. Even if he still has clinging, if he has wisdom and sees that old age, sickness and death are the way of nature, he will be able to relieve suffering. We study the Dhamma simply for this: to cure suffering.
There isn’t really much as the basis of Buddhism, there’s just the birth and death of suffering, and this the Buddha called the truth. Birth is suffering, old age is suffering, sickness is suffering and death is suffering. People don’t see this suffering as the truth. If we know truth, then we know suffering.
This pride in personal opinions, these arguments, they have no end. In order to put our minds at rest, to find peace, we should contemplate our past, the present, and the things which are in store for us, like birth, old age, sickness and death. What can we do to avoid being plagued by these things? Even though we may still have a little worry, if we investigate until we know according to the truth, all suffering will abate, because we will no longer cling to things.
sonal views and opinions. This clinging never ends, it is sam. sara, owing endlessly on. It has no completion. Now, if we know conventional reality then we’ll know liberation. If we clearly know liberation, then we’ll know convention. This is to know the Dhamma. Here there is completion.
Take people, for instance. In reality people don’t have any names, we are born naked into the world. Our names arise only through convention. I’ve contemplated this and seen that if you don’t know the truth of this convention, it can be really harmful. It’s simply something we use for convenience. Without it we couldn’t communicate, there would be nothing to say, no language.
I’ve seen Westerners when they sit in meditation together in the West. When they get up after sitting, men and women together, sometimes they go and touch each other on the head! When I saw this I thought, `Ehh, if we cling to convention it gives rise to defilements right there.’ If we can let go of convention, give up our opinions, we are at peace.
Like the generals and colonels, men of rank and position, who come to see me. When they come they say, `Oh, please touch my head.’1 If they ask like this, there’s nothing wrong with it; they’re glad to have their heads touched. But if you tapped their heads in the middle of the street it’d be a different story! This is because of clinging. So I feel that letting go is really the way to peace. Touching a head is against our customs, but in reality it is nothing. When they agree to having it touched there’s nothing wrong with it, just like touching a cabbage or a potato.
Accepting, giving up, letting go this is the way of lightness. Wherever you’re clinging there’s becoming and birth right there. There’s danger right there. The Buddha taught about convention and he taught to undo convention in the right way, and so reach liberation.
This is freedom: not to cling to conventions. All things in this world have a conventional reality. Having established them we should not be fooled by them, because getting lost in them really leads to suffering. This point concerning rules and conventions is of utmost importance. One who can get beyond them is beyond suffering.
However, they are a characteristic of our world. Take Mr. Boonmah, for instance; he used to be just one of the crowd but now he’s been appointed the District Commissioner. It’s just a convention but it’s a convention we should respect. It’s part of the world of people. If you think, `Oh, before we were friends, we used to work at the tailor’s together,’ and then you go and pat him on the head in public, he’ll get angry. It’s not right, he’ll resent it. So we should follow the conventions in order to avoid giving rise to resentment. It’s useful to understand convention; living in the world is just about this. Know the right time and place, know the person.
Why is it wrong to go against conventions? It’s wrong because of people! You should be clever, knowing both convention and liberation. Know the right time for each. If we know how to use rules and conventions
comfortably then we are skilled. But if we try to behave according to the higher level of reality in the wrong situation, this is wrong. Where is it wrong? It’s wrong with people’s defilements, that’s where! People all have defilements. In one situation we behave one way, in another situation we must behave in another way. We should know the ins and outs because we live within conventions. Problems occur because people cling to them. If we suppose something to be, then it is. It’s there because we suppose it to be there. But if you look closely, in the absolute sense these things don’t really exist.
As I have often said, before we were laymen and now we are monks. We lived within the convention of `layman’ and now we live within the convention of `monk’. We are monks by convention, not monks through liberation. In the beginning we establish conventions like this, but if a person merely ordains, this doesn’t mean he overcomes defilements. If we take a handful of sand and agree to call it salt, does this make it salt? It is salt, but only in name, not in reality. You couldn’t use it to cook with. It’s only use is within the realm of that agreement, because there’s really no salt there, only sand. It becomes salt only through our supposing it to be so.
This word `liberation’ is itself just a convention, but it refers to that which is beyond conventions. Having achieved freedom, having reached liberation, we still have to use convention in order to refer to it as liberation. If we didn’t have convention we couldn’t communicate, so it does have its use.
For example, people have different names, but they are all people just the same. If we didn’t have names to differentiate between each other, and we wanted to call out to somebody standing in a crowd, saying, `Hey, Person! Person!’ would be useless. You couldn’t say who would answer you because they’re all `person’. But if you called, `Hey, John!’ then John would respond, and the others wouldn’t. Names fulfill just this need. Through them we can communicate; they provide the basis for social behaviour.
So you should know both convention and liberation. Conventions have a use, but in reality there really isn’t anything there. Even people are non- existent. They are merely groups of elements, born of causal conditions, growing dependent on conditions, existing for a while, then disappearing in the natural way. No one can oppose or control it. But without conventions we would have nothing to say, we’d have no names, no practice, no work. Rules and conventions are established to give us a language, to make things convenient, and that’s all.
Take money, for example. In olden times there weren’t any coins or notes, they had no value. People used to barter goods, but those things were diffcult to keep, so they created money, using coins and notes. Perhaps in the future we’ll have a new king decree that we don’t have to use paper money, we should use wax, melting it down and pressing it into lumps. We’ll say this is money and use it throughout the country. Let alone wax, they might even decide to make chicken dung the local currency all the other things can’t be money, just chicken dung! Then people would fight and kill each other over chicken dung!
This is the way it is. You could use many examples to illustrate convention. What we use for money is simply a convention that we have set up; it has its use within that convention. Having decreed it to be money, it becomes money. But in reality, what is money? Nobody can say. When there is a popular agreement about something, then a convention comes about to fulfill the need. The world is just this.
This is convention, but to get ordinary people to understand liberation is really dicult. Our money, our house, our family, our children and relatives are simply conventions that we have invented, but really, seen in the light of Dhamma, they don’t belong to us. Maybe if we hear this we don’t feel so good, but reality is like that. These things have value only through the established conventions. If we establish that it doesn’t have value, then it doesn’t have value. If we establish that it has value, then it has value. This is the way it is; we bring convention into the world to fulfill a need.
Even this body is not really ours, we just suppose it to be so. It’s truly just an assumption on our part. If you try to nd a real, substantial self within it, you can’t. There are merely elements which are born, continue for a while and then die. Everything is like this. There’s no real, true substance to it, but it’s proper that we use it. It’s like a cup. At some time that cup must break, but while it’s there you should use it and look after it well. It’s a tool for your use. If it breaks there is trouble, so even though it must break, you should try your utmost to preserve it.
And so we have the four supports1 which the Buddha taught again and again to contemplate. They are the supports on which a monk de- pends to continue his practice. As long as you live you must depend on them, but you should understand them. Don’t cling to them, giving rise to craving in your mind.
Convention and liberation are continually related like this. Even though we use convention, don’t place your trust in it as being the truth. If you cling to it, suffering will arise. The case of right and wrong is a good example. Some people see wrong as being right and right as being wrong, but in the end who really knows what is right and what is wrong? We don’t know. Different people establish different conventions about what’s right and what’s wrong, but the Buddha took suffering as his guide-line. If you want to argue about it there’s no end to it. One says `right’, another says `wrong’. One says `wrong’, another says `right’. In truth we don’t really know right and wrong at all. But at a useful, practical level, we can say that right is not to harm oneself and not to harm others. This way fulfills a constructive purpose for us.
After all, rules, conventions and liberation are simply dhammas. One is higher than the other, but they go hand in hand. There is no way that we can guarantee that anything is definitely like this or like that, so the Buddha said to just leave it be. Leave it be as uncertain. However much you like it or dislike it, you should understand it as uncertain.
Regardless of time and place, the whole practice of Dhamma comes to completion at the place where there is nothing. It’s the place of surrender, of emptiness, of laying down the burden. This is the finish. It’s not like the person who says, `Why is the ag uttering in the wind? I say it’s because of the wind.’ Another person says it’s because of the flag. The other retorts that it’s because of the wind. There’s no end to this! The same as the old riddle, `Which came rst, the chicken or the egg?’ There’s no way to reach a conclusion, this is just nature.
All these things we say are merely conventions, we establish them ourselves. If you know these things with wisdom then you’ll know impermanence, suffering and not-self. This is the outlook which leads to enlightenment.
Training and teaching people with varying levels of understanding is really difficult. Some people have certain ideas; you tell them something and they don’t believe you. You tell them the truth and they say it’s not true. `I’m right, you’re wrong.’ There’s no end to this.
If you don’t let go there will be suffering. I’ve told you before about the four men who go into the forest. They hear a chicken crowing, `Kak- ka-dehhhh!’ One of them wonders, `Is that a rooster or a hen?’ Three of them say together, `It’s a hen,’ but the other doesn’t agree, he insists it’s a rooster. `How could a hen crow like that?’ he asks. They retort, `Well, it has a mouth, hasn’t it?’ They argue and argue till the tears fall, really getting upset over it, but in the end they’re all wrong. Whether you say a hen or a rooster, they’re only names. We establish these conventions, saying a rooster is like this, a hen is like that; a rooster cries like this, a hen cries like that, and this is how we get stuck in the world! Remember this! Actually, if you just say that really there’s no hen and no rooster, then that’s the end of it.
In the eld of conventional reality one side is right and the other side is wrong, but there will never be complete agreement. Arguing till the tears fall has no use.
The Buddha taught not to cling. How do we practise non-clinging? We practise simply by giving up clinging, but this non-clinging is very difficult to understand. It takes keen wisdom to investigate and penetrate this, to really achieve non-clinging.
When you think about it, whether people are happy or sad, content or discontent, doesn’t depend on their having little or having much it depends on wisdom. All distress can be transcended only through wisdom, through seeing the truth of things.
So the Buddha exhorted us to investigate, to contemplate. This contemplation’ means simply to try to solve these problems correctly. This is our practice. Like birth, old age, sickness and death they are the most natural and common of occurrences. The Buddha taught to contemplate birth, old age, sickness and death, but some people don’t understand this. `What is there to contemplate?’ they say. They’re born but they don’t know birth, they will die but they don’t know death.
A person who investigates these things repeatedly will see. Having seen he will gradually solve his problems. Even if he still has clinging, if he has wisdom and sees that old age, sickness and death are the way of nature, he will be able to relieve suffering. We study the Dhamma simply for this: to cure suffering.
There isn’t really much as the basis of Buddhism, there’s just the birth and death of suffering, and this the Buddha called the truth. Birth is suffering, old age is suffering, sickness is suffering and death is suffering. People don’t see this suffering as the truth. If we know truth, then we know suffering.
This pride in personal opinions, these arguments, they have no end. In order to put our minds at rest, to find peace, we should contemplate our past, the present, and the things which are in store for us, like birth, old age, sickness and death. What can we do to avoid being plagued by these things? Even though we may still have a little worry, if we investigate until we know according to the truth, all suffering will abate, because we will no longer cling to things.


Mindfulness of Death | Ajahn Tate

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Mindfulness of Death | Ajahn Tate
/
Maraṇa Sati, that is, meditation on death, is a meditation subject of the highest order. This is because, when recollecting death, the Citta becomes melancholy and withdrawn from other objects and emotions.

This episode is a talk given by the Thai forest meditation master Ajahn Tate and is titled “Marana-sati – Mindfulness of Death”. In this dhamma talk Ajahn Tate explains the benefits of maransati, and gives advice on how to practice it. This is a really strong talk that will be of benefit for those who’ve been practicing meditation for some time and want to sharpen up their mindfulness. It may not be the best advice for beginners, so if you are a beginner, or if you are prone to depression or suicidal ideation, this is not the talk for you. There will be other talks available soon that will focus on uplifting the mind that would be better.

This teaching given freely by Ajahn Tate was translated by Steven Towler and was made available for free distribution in the publication “Words of the Master” which was published in 2022. You can find links to the original text in the show notes below.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donate” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Mindfulness of Death
by Ajahn Tate
Maraṇa Sati, that is, meditation on death, is a meditation subject of the highest order. This is because, when recollecting death, the Citta becomes melancholy and withdrawn from other objects and emotions.
Death is the ultimate stage of our life. This being the case, what could be left over? Apart from death, there is nothing. Everything we are involved with in this lifetime is cast off completely. Even though we may not want to cast off
these things, we must give them up. We are dead, we have to part company with everything, without exception. This is why I say that Maraṇa Sati is the summit of Kammathāna (the complete practice of meditation). It doesn’t matter who investigates this, if they practice Maraṇa Sati, but the Citta is yet to converge, is yet to be solitary, is yet to let go, is still unable to disentangle itself
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, then their meditation is up the spout.
With regards to Maraṇa Sati, Lord Buddha asked his monks how they considered death. Some monks responded saying, “When investigating death, we fear our lives won’t last a day or a night. We fear we will die before we have a chance to finish eating our alms food.” Other monks said, “They investigated death as they ate, and they feared they would die before they finished eating.” At this stage the Lord interrupted and instructed these monks, saying they were heedless (in their examination of death).
He instructed them saying, “Whoever investigates death sees death in every breath. This is how one who is not heedless investigates. If the in-breath comes in but does not go out, death occurs. If the out-breath goes out but there is no in-breath, death occurs. This is the way things are and this is what it means to be heedful.”
On a daily basis, how often do we think about death? You know, some people let days, months and years go by without giving death a single thought. This is why they are called heedless. Heedlessness amounts to negligence and loss of awareness. Sati (mindfulness) has gone out the door.
Heedlessness, wherever it is, is a support for death. The saying, “the path of death” has not actually reached death, you know. However, the heedless believe it to be death because lacking Sati is the same as someone who has died.
The opposite of heedlessness, being attentive, is having Sati at all times, in every posture, standing, walking, lying down and sitting. This is “the path to the deathless”. It is the path that has Sati, which is aware of the body at all times. This is what I am talking about. Such a person is one gone beyond death.
We are dying from the moment we are born. We are constantly changing. You could say the child dies and becomes the teenager, a young woman, until they reach forty to fifty years of age and become old and decrepit. These changes occur gradually until right up to death. The mental component that frets and gets involved in all manner of things does not remain static. It jumps from one sense object to another, to another. This can also be referred to as dying.
The death of one sense object in pursuit of another. This is also a death but a death without dying
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.
I call on you to investigate the implicit nature of death. When the time of death actually arrives, that’s a whole other matter. Dying is not a simple thing. It’s not as easy as we may imagine.
Sometimes a blood vessel haemorrhages, and we die. Heart attacks happen. There are sudden deaths where you don’t hang around at death’s door. There are deaths considerably more torturous than this. Then there’s the case of experiencing pain and illness over many years before death. Sometimes there is paralysis, where you cannot move. You cannot lift your hands and feet. You cannot eat or defecate without assistance. Now, this is the worst of deaths, where we face the Deity of Death
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first.
Ordinarily, we strike our enemy. He hits us from the flanks, from the left and from the right. He cuts a path to transport his weapons and supplies before he, little by little, starts to destroy us. But it is not all over, this is when the great army storms into attack. This is facing up to the Deity of Death. For example, having a broken arm, or a broken leg could be a prelude to death. Sometimes it is a pain in the head, or stomach-ache. Sometimes it’s a bowel infection. There are all sorts of things it could be. All these are pain and agony whether we are sitting or lying down because we are unable to eliminate them by changing posture, but the heart is yet to crumble. This is extreme torture, not being able to swap posture to get relief. It doesn’t matter how much (other) meditation you have done, when it comes to this moment, it is extremely difficult to establish Sati within the body. It was for this very reason that the Lord Buddha taught the recollection of death, Maraṇa Sati, to enable you to establish Sati when death comes.
In truth, death is no big deal. Before you die, the most important thing is to protect the Citta from all conditions by firmly establishing Sati. You cannot let the Citta become confused. This is critically important!
When minor pain and sickness arises in the body, you must use it to train your investigation of death, recollecting, “This is the way it must be. At present, the truth is, we have not yet reached the point of death. When that point does occur, everything will decay and decompose. The eyes will not see the way. The ears will hear no sounds. The body won’t feel but the mind will be in a state of confusion and panic. Trepidation will be present.”
When we finally get to the real point of death, all attachments will be severed. Even the Sati that has protected the Citta well will disappear. What does arise is the Kamma Nimitta (a sign/vision of some past kamma), or the Gati Nimitta (a sign/vision of where rebirth will take place). In Sukati (righteousness) or Dukati (depravity) there will arise a Kamma Nimitta consistent with one’s Kamma.
For example, killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, etc., which is referred to as depraved kamma.
Kamma Nimitta
: An example would be seeing an animal that we killed. It is in our heart that we see the animal, chasing us, encircling us, hurting us until we cry and moan in distress. This carries on until a sound arises. Sometimes this sound is for all to hear. The sound is just like one made at the time when we were still alive.
Gati Nimitta: In the case of depravity, a vision could appear in the heart of the wrong doer. The vision is of someone who has committed the exact same transgressions. Having died, they experienced great suffering and torture in various situations, such as seeing their body as a skeleton, void of flesh, while those with flesh have it ripped apart and eaten by other animals. This is just the beginning. The body is not dead. When a Gati like this appears, specific to oneself, there is great and endless fear. There is a fear that the same fate awaits the wrong doer. There is a certainty that the wrong doer must go down this path because causes and conditions dictate this.
The Gati Nimitta associated with goodness and virtue are the opposite of this. When those who do good deeds in this lifetime, like someone who has offered cloth (to monks) at Kathina (end of rains retreat ceremony for monks), or various other deeds, are about to die without Sati, the Kamma Nimitta or the Gati Nimitta appears in the same way as it would with those with bad kamma. However, in this case, the good kamma causes rapture and joy which nourishes the heart. As an example, someone, during this life, providing alms to monks. Even if the offering was only a small amount, in the Kamma Nimitta or the Gati Nimitta the amount appears to be stupendous. So much so, there is much food left over, they cannot fully describe it. When they see this, they desire this outcome. They wish for this one day in the future when conditions truly make it possible.
Some say, when we are about to die, we should put away our Sati. We should not think about depraved kamma. That depraved kamma is the individual’s own heedlessness (the extent of which) he can only guess about. How can we take care of this situation if we have no Sati? The Kamma Nimitta is an enticement in its own right when it comes to letting go. There’s no going back, no returning to the body to make excuses. You need to take action while you are still human. If you do this, when death comes calling, things will take care of themselves. Doing great good or great evil, what happens will be determined by what you do. This occurs by itself, in its own way.
It is true that we humans do die when breathing stops. However, the breath and the heart/mind are totally different things. What doctors call a “coma” is when we reach the end of our life in this body but we are not quite there. In Buddhism we are taught that the breath begins with the diaphragm.
The diaphragm expands and contracts and this is the cause of the breath. This in turn gives rise to warmth. When there is warmth, the body still has reflexes, while there is air. However, the Citta is now disassociated. Wherever rebirth is to take place, that has now happened. The Citta’s disassociation occurs simultaneous with the Kamma Nimitta or the Gati Nimitta. Nothing remains, except the corpse.
If there was no Kamma Nimitta or Gati Nimitta, then the person may be revived because the air was not exhausted
. Modern science applies oxygen to assist the process, but it only assists breathing. The Citta will go wherever its conditions take it.
Maraṇa Sati is of paramount importance because we are yet to die. We just assume what death is like. When we investigate, there arises sorrow and lamentation. The Citta becomes resolutely focused on the one spot.
This is why I implore you to examine Maraṇa Sati as this will be of great benefit. You will see death clearly, as it really is.
Practise to become proficient in Maraṇa Sati. But even at this level, when the death knell strikes, it is no guaranteed that you will be able to retain your Sati.

An Heir In The Dhamma | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
An Heir In The Dhamma | Ajahn Maha Boowa
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When the ordinary mind that doesn’t yet have any standards meets up with things that drag it in the wrong direction, it will tend to go rolling after such preoccupations without letup, to the point where it can’t find any foundation for sustaining its peace and calm. In terms of the Dhamma, these preoccupations are called defilements.

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled An Heir In The Dhamma. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donate” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


An Heir In The Dhamma
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
When the ordinary mind that doesn’t yet have any standards meets up with things that drag it in the wrong direction, it will tend to go rolling after such preoccupations without letup, to the point where it can’t find any foundation for sustaining its peace and calm. In terms of the Dhamma, these preoccupations are called defilements.
We can see this when we begin to practice. Because the defilements are strong, the mind stumbles and crawls along, not at all willing to follow the way of Dhamma. This is something I haven’t forgotten, from the time I first set out to practice up until now, because it’s a truth that lies embedded in the heart.
When I first began to meditate, my practice lacked a solid foundation. Since I had yet to discover the right method to look after my mind, my practice was in a state of constant flux. It would make steady progress for awhile only to decline rapidly. My practice continued to deteriorate, but I didn’t know how to reverse the decline. So I thought long and hard, trying to find a firm basis on which I could stabilize my mind. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that mindfulness had deserted me because my fundamentals were wrong: I lacked a meditation-word to act as a precise focus for my attention.
By focusing exclusively on the meditation-word, the mind became cen- tered and never slipped back again. The way it had regressed before was an excellent lesson. I felt I’d rather die than let my mind suffer another decline. I couldn’t stand to stay in the world bearing the mass of suffering that would come if it regressed again, because I had already been through it before – more than a year of the most acute suffering. There’s no suffering that burns more than the suffering that comes when one’s meditation deteriorates. If mine were to deteriorate again, it’d kill me; which was why I was really meticulous in keeping watch over my mind from then on. I wouldn’t let the mind regress, and so it kept on progressing.
The first time I saw the wonder of the mind was when I began sitting in meditation all night – right from the very first night. I was investigating pain, and was it ever severe! At first, I hadn’t planned on sitting until dawn. But the more I sat, the more the pain began to grow. No matter how I contemplated it, I didn’t have any success at all. “Eh. What is this? Okay, if I’m going to die today, let me die.” So I made a resolution in that moment: “From this moment on, I’ll remain seated in this posture until dawn. If I survive, so be it. If not, so be it.”
I probed right into the pain, forcing the mind into action. Wisdom had never been mobilized in that way, but when the mind was really cornered, at the end of its rope, wisdom stirred itself into action, keeping up with events from every angle until it was fully alert to the pain, fully alert to the body and fully alert to the affairs of the mind. Each was known as a separate reality. Pain, body and mind then split away from one another and disappeared completely, even though nothing like that had ever happened to me before. The body disap- peared from my sense of awareness. The pain completely vanished. All that was left was an awareness that was simply aware. It wasn’t the sort of outstanding awareness we might imagine it to be. It was just simple awareness, but very subtle, very refined and very amazing in that moment.
When I withdrew from that state, I renewed my investigation, but when I used the strategies I had used before, I didn’t get the same results, because the old strategies were now memories from the past. I had to come up with new strategies to keep up with events of the present moment. The mind then settled down again. That night, it settled down three times, and then dawn arrived. Was I ever amazed at myself!
That morning when I got the chance, I went to tell Venerable Ajaan Mun. Normally, I’d be very intimidated by him, but that morning I wasn’t intimidated at all. I wanted to tell him the truth, so that he could see the results of my stead- fast determination. I spoke with audacity, even though I had never spoken that way with him before. I really told it to him straight – crash! bang! – and after he had listened, he said, “That’s the way it’s got to be!” That’s just what he said! He really let me have it. He explained things to my complete satisfaction. As soon
as he praised me and spurred me on, I felt like the master’s pet dog, all raring to bark and bite.
After one or two more days, I sat up in meditation all night again. After another two or three more days, I did it again, until my state of mind was thor- oughly amazing. The fear of death disappears when the mind really knows. When you separate the physical elements to investigate the nature of life and death, the four elements of earth, water, wind and fire dissolve down into their original properties. Space returns to its original property as space. The mind that used to fear death becomes even more prominent. So what is it that dies? When the mind knows so prominently in this way, how can it die? The mind doesn’t die. So what’s it afraid of? We’ve been lied to. The defilements have lied to the living beings of the world, making them fear death, even though actually nothing dies.
When I’d investigate on one day, I’d get one approach; on another day, I’d get another approach, but they were all hard-hitting and amazing. The mind was more and more amazing and brave, to the point where I felt, “When the time comes to die, what sort of pain do they think they’re going to bring out to fool me? Today’s pain is complete in every way. Beyond this, there’s simply death. I’ve seen all the aspects of pain; I’ve understood and dealt with them all. So when the time comes to die, what sort of pain can they possibly bring out to deceive me? There’s no way pain can deceive me. As for death, nothing dies. So what is there to fear aside from the defilements that lie to us, making us fall for their deceitful tricks? From this point on, I’ll never fall for their tricks again.”
That’s the way the mind is when it knows, and it knew clearly right from the very first night. As for the constant fluctuations of my mental state, since that first night it never regressed again. That first night it became clear: “This is how the mind that doesn’t regress is supposed to be.” It was as if the mind had been climbing up and falling down, climbing up and falling down, until finally it climbed up and grabbed hold tight, 100 per cent sure that it would never fall again. This was why I accelerated my efforts full speed.
During that rains retreat, I sat up all night in meditation nine or ten times, but never two nights in a row. Sometimes I’d skip two or three nights, sometimes six or seven. I got to the point where I was completely sure about pain – heavy or light, big or small. I understood how to deal with pain – how to sidestep it or how to cure it right in time – without being shaken by it. I wasn’t even afraid of death, because I had investigated it with the most adroit strategies. Mindfulness and wisdom were completely up on death in every way.
Speaking of effort in the practice, my tenth rains retreat was when I made the greatest effort. In all my life, I have never made a more vigorous effort than I did during that rains retreat. The mind went all out, and so did the body. From that point on, I continued making progress until the mind became solid as a rock. In other words, I was so skilled in my samadhi that the mind was as unshakeable as a slab of rock. Soon, I became addicted to the total peace and calm of that samadhi state; so much so that my meditation practice remained stuck at that level of samadhi for five full years.
Once I was able to get past that samadhi, with the help of Venerable Ajaan Mun, I set out to investigate. When I began to investigate with wisdom, things went quickly and easily because my samadhi was fully developed. It was as if
all the materials for building a house were right at hand, but I hadn’t yet put them together to build the house, and so they remained just useless pieces of wood. My meditation practice simply stalled at samadhi. Because I didn’t com- bine samadhi with mindfulness and wisdom, it couldn’t progress any further.
As soon as I investigated with wisdom, I began to know what was what. I was able to steadily cut off the defilements. I began to wake up: “All this time I’ve been lying in samadhi as if I were dead and it hasn’t accomplished a thing!” So I stepped up my efforts at wisdom, making it work day and night without putting a brake on it at all.
I’m the sort of person who goes to extremes. Whatever tack I set out on, that’s the only tack I take. When I began following the path of wisdom, I started criticizing samadhi as being like lying down dead. Actually, samadhi is a means for resting the mind. If you practice properly, that’s the way it is. But instead, I criticized samadhi as being like lying down dead. “All these years, and it hasn’t given rise to wisdom.”
So, I accelerated my efforts at wisdom, beginning first with body contem- plation. When I contemplated unattractiveness, it was remarkable how adroit and audacious the mind became. I could perceive right through whatever per- son I looked at. To tell you frankly how audacious my mind was (and here I have to ask the forgiveness of both the men and women involved if it’s wrong to speak too frankly), it wouldn’t have to be a question of old women, you know. If a gathering was full of young ladies, I could march right in without any sign of lust appearing at all. That’s how daring the mind was because of its contempla- tion of unattractiveness.
Looking at a person, I saw just bones wrapped up in skin; nothing but flesh, all glaring and red. So where could I see any beauty? The power of the unattractiveness was really strong. No matter whose body I looked at, that’s how I’d perceive it. So where would I find any beauty to make me feel desire? This was why I’d dare march right in… really beautiful young ladies, you know (I’ll have to keep asking forgiveness until I’ve finished with this “forest mad-
ness”). When I felt daring like that, I could march right in with no trouble at all, because I was sure of my strength.
But this daring wasn’t entirely correct, in the sense that the mind was rather intoxicated with its own power; which is why I criticized myself after the mind had passed that point. This daring was a kind of madness, but while I was following the path, it was the right course, because that was how I had to follow it through.
I contemplated unattractiveness until no physical desire appeared at all. It gradually faded away, all on its own, without giving any specific indication that it was gone. It didn’t give me any assurance that lust or passion for the human body had disappeared at this or that point in time, so I had to deliberate again. I couldn’t go along with lust simply fading away on its own. That is, my mind wouldn’t accept it. If lust had been wiped out at any particular point, there should have been some sort of indication, so that I could know clearly that it was all gone for this or that reason, at this or that moment. It should have had its moment.
So the mind had to back up and discover new approaches to remedy the situation. If lust were really all gone, why hadn’t there been a clear indication that it had been wiped out at this or that moment? As soon as I saw a person’s body, I would perceive right through it. I saw nothing but flesh and bones in that body. I wouldn’t see a beautiful woman or a beautiful person, because the power of my contemplation of unattractiveness was so strong that I’d perceive everyone as a pile of bones. What could possibly make the mind feel attraction or desire when it’s in a state like that?
I now had to turn around and take a new approach. I brought attractive- ness in to force out the unattractiveness. I covered the pile of bones with skin to make it beautiful. At first, I had to force the mind to do it. Otherwise, it imme- diately broke through to unattractiveness, because it was so adept in that way. I forced the mind to visualize the bones covered with skin so that they’d appear beautiful, and then had that beautiful body cling right to mine. That was how
I contemplated. I’d do walking meditation visualizing the beauty of that body clinging to mine, clinging right to mine as I walked back and forth. If there was any desire still left, it would have to show. If not, then let me know that it was gone.
I practiced this way for four full days without any physical attraction or desire appearing at all. Even though it was an extremely beautiful body, nothing appeared. The image kept trying to change into a pile of bones wrapped in skin, but I forced the mind to stay just at the skin level.
On the fourth night, tears began to flow. “I’ve had enough. I give in.” In other words, the mind wasn’t feeling any pleasure. It said that it had had enough, so I tested it again: “Enough of what? If you admit that there’s no more desire, then let me know. I won’t accept your giving in like this. To give in like this is just a ruse. I won’t go along with it.”
I continued contemplating every facet to find which one would make the mind feel desire and to see at which moment the desire would arise, so that I could then take whatever might appear and focus on it as an object to be con- templated and uprooted. The night got later and later, and I kept on focusing in – but I wasn’t focused on contemplating unattractiveness at that point. I was contemplating nothing but attractiveness for those entire four days, because I was determined to find an approach to test the truth of the situation.
At about 10 p.m. on the night of the fourth day, there was a flickering, as if the mind was going to feel lust for that beautiful body that had been constantly clinging to me during that period. It was a peculiar sort of flickering. Mindful- ness was alert to it, because mindfulness was there all the time. As soon as the flickering appeared, I kept encouraging it. “See that flickering? We’ve caught the criminal who has been in hiding. See? So how can it be gone? If it’s gone, why does it have to behave like this?” I focused in on it. That flickering was a condition of the mind that appeared only slightly, with no effect on the body at all. It was inside the mind. When I encouraged it, it flickered again, which proved that lust wasn’t all gone.
So now that it wasn’t all gone, what was I supposed to do?
 
I now had to alternate my tactics again. Since this was a path I had never taken before, something I had never known before, it was very difficult to pro- ceed. As soon as I focused on unattractiveness, attractiveness would vanish in the flash of an eye. It would vanish extremely fast because I was already adept at unattractiveness. As soon as I focused on unattractiveness, the body would turn immediately into a pile of bones, so I would have to focus on attractive- ness to make it beautiful again. I kept changing back and forth between the two this way. This took a long time because it was a path I had never trod. I didn’t understand, so I had to try out different methods until I had enough confidence to settle on one path or another.
I finally came to the truth when I sat visualizing an image of unattractive- ness right in front of me. The mind focused on unattractiveness standing still right there. I wouldn’t let it move or change in any way. I made it stay right there like that. If it was an image of bones wrapped in skin or a pile of bones with the skin removed, I made it stay right there in front of me. The mind stared right at it, with mindfulness focused, waiting to learn the truth from that image of unat- tractiveness, to see what it would do, to see how this pile of unattractiveness would move or change.
Because of my mental adeptness, the image stayed just as I wanted it to. If I didn’t want the mind to destroy the image, it wouldn’t destroy it. If I had fo- cused on destroying it, it would have been demolished in an instant because of the speed of wisdom. But I didn’t let the mind destroy it. I had it stay right there in front of me in order to find the truth that would give me certainty.
As I kept focusing in, the image of unattractiveness standing there before me was gradually sucked into the mind, absorbed into the mind, until I finally realized that unattractiveness was a matter of the mind itself. The state of mind that had fixed on the idea of unattractiveness sucked it in – which meant that attractiveness and unattractiveness were simply a matter of the mind deceiving itself.
The mind then let go in a flash. It let go of external unattractiveness. It understood clearly now because it had made the break. “This is how it’s sup- posed to be. It’s been merely a matter of the mind painting pictures to deceive itself, and getting excited over its shadows. Those external images aren’t pas- sion, aversion and delusion. The mind is what has passion, aversion and delu- sion.” As soon as the mind knew this clearly, it extricated itself from external affairs and moved inward. As soon as the mind focused outward, it knew that this outflow was the inner affairs of the mind displaying themselves. So now the image of unattractiveness appeared exclusively within the mind.
I then focused my investigation within the mind. But now it wasn’t a matter of worldly passion. It was something very different. The affairs of worldly pas- sion were all gone. The mind understood clearly and had passed its verdict. It had understood. What remained was the image appearing within the mind. It was known clearly that this internal image came from the mind. When it dis- appeared, it disappeared there and didn’t go anywhere else. The instant after I focused on making an image appear, it vanished. Before I had focused on it for long, it would vanish.
After that, it was just like a lightning flash: As soon as I focused on making an image, it would vanish immediately. Because of the speed of the arising and disappearing, there was no time to elaborate on its being attractive or anything else. The instant it appeared – blip! – it vanished.
From that point on, there were no more images in the mind. The mind became completely empty. As for external unattractiveness, that problem had already been taken care of. I had understood it from the moment it was sucked into the mind, and the mind had immediately let go of external unattractive- ness. It let go of sights, sounds, smells, tastes and everything external – because the mind was what had been the deceiver. Once I understood that point clearly, those other things were no longer a problem. The mind understood immedi- ately and let go of external things once and for all.
After the internal images had all disappeared, the mind was empty. Com- pletely empty. Whatever I focused on was completely empty. I looked at trees, mountains and buildings and saw them merely as shadows. The major part
– the mind – was totally empty. Even when I looked at my own body, I saw it simply as a shadow. As for the mind itself, it was empty clear through – to the point where I exclaimed to myself, “Is the mind really this empty?” It was empty at all times. Nothing passed into it.
Even though it was that empty, I formed mental pictures as a way of exer- cising it. The images I formed were a means of exercising the mind to make it even more adept at emptiness, to the point where after a single blip it would be empty – a single blip and it’d be empty. The moment anything was formed – blip! – the mind would be empty right then.
At that point – the point where the mind was empty in full measure – the mind’s awareness was also prominent in full measure. It fully comprehended body, feeling, memory, thought and consciousness. It fully let go of them on its own, with nothing remaining. Only awareness was left. There was a feeling of relatedness and intimacy, a very subtle sensitivity for that awareness that’s hard to describe in line with its reality. There was a feeling of absorption exclusively
for this awareness. Any other condition that arose would vanish in the same instant.
I kept watch over it. If this were the time of the Buddha, we would call this level of mindfulness and wisdom supreme-mindfulness and supreme-wisdom; but in our day and age we shouldn’t reach for those labels. It’s enough for our purposes to call them automatic mindfulness and wisdom. That’s appropriate enough. There’s no need to call them anything more exalted than that, for this doesn’t deviate at all from the truth as it exists. Automatic mindfulness and wis- dom were the reason why the mind was prominent, and this prominence made it bright all the way through.
One day, I was doing walking meditation on the western side of Wat Doi Dhammachedi. I had gone without food for three or four days, and that day was the lunar observance day, so people were coming to the monastery to give alms. At daybreak I began doing walking meditation. While I was standing in contemplation on the meditation path that morning, an uncanny feeling of wonder arose, to the point where I exclaimed, “Why is it that my mind is so amazing? Whatever I look at – even the earth on which I tread and see clearly with my eyes – why is it that the mind, which is the major part, is completely empty? There are no trees or mountains in the mind. It’s completely empty, with nothing left. Nothing but emptiness fills the heart.”
I stood there contemplating for a moment, when suddenly a realization arose: “If there is a point or a center of the knower anywhere, that point is the nucleus of existence.” That’s what it said, and I was bewildered.
Actually, the word “point” referred to that point of the knower. If I had understood this problem in terms of the truth that appeared to warn me, things would have been able to disband right then and there. But instead of understand- ing, I was bewildered – because it was something I had never before known or seen. If there was a point, it would be the point of the knower. If there was a center, it would mean the center of the knower. But where was it? There in that knowing mind. That was the essence of existence. The statement that appeared  in my mind already said so clearly. There was noth- ing at all wrong about it, but I was simply bewildered. “What is this?” So, for the time being, I didn’t get any benefit from it at all. I let more than three months pass by in vain, even though the problem was still weighing on my mind. I couldn’t put it down.
 When the time came for me to know, I was contem- plating just the mind – nothing wide-ranging – because the mind already knew everything on the external level. Whatever sights, sounds, smells, tastes or tactile sensa- tions there might be throughout the universe, the mind had already known and relinquished them. It was no longer interested in investigating them. It wasn’t even willing to investigate body, feeling, memory, thought or consciousness. Its only interest lay in that conspicu- ous awareness, together with the subtle feelings that pervaded the mind.
Mindfulness and wisdom continued making con- tact with that awareness, examining it back and forth. But you should know that the “point” I refer to was a conventional reality. No matter how magnificent it might appear, it was still magnificence in the realm of convention. No matter how radiant or splendid it might be, it was still radiance and splendour in the realm of convention, because it was still permeated with delu- sion.
Delusion forms the essence of conventional reali- ty. The focal point of that prominence eventually began to show its ups and downs – in keeping with the very refined level of the mind – so that I was able to catch sight of them. Sometimes it was a little tarnished, some-times radiant. Sometimes there was a slight dissatisfaction, sometimes complete contentment. The changes were very slight, in line with the refinement of the mind at that level, but they were enough for me to detect its irregularities.
Greed, for example, is something blatant, easy to understand and plainly harmful, and yet the world is still content to feel greed. Think about it! Anger is also blatant, and yet the world is still content to feel anger. Infatuation, love, hate: All these things are blatant, easy to understand and plainly harmful, and yet the world is still content to feel them.
But this was not the same sort of thing at all. The mind had gone way be- yond external objects. It had let go of all those other things, but why was it still attached to this amazing radiance? Using mindfulness and wisdom that were continually focused inside at all times, I noticed that it occasionally became slightly tarnished. Or it displayed a slight dissatisfaction – which was a form of change and so nothing constant or trustworthy.
Ultimately, there was no escaping it: I had to see that this state of mind was not to be trusted, so I came to reflect, “Why is it that this state of mind can be so changeable? Now it’s defiled, now it’s radiant, now there’s satisfaction, now there’s dissatisfaction. It’s not always constant and true. How can a mind as refined as this still show such a variety of conditions?
As soon as mindfulness and wisdom turned to take an interest in inves- tigating this state of mind, a totally unexpected realization sprang up within the mind: “Defilement, radiance, satisfaction and dissatisfaction: These are all conventional realities. They are all not-self.”
That was enough. Mindfulness and wisdom realized that a state of mind immersed in delusion was a conventional reality that should simply be let go. It shouldn’t be held to. A moment after this realization arose to warn mindfulness and wisdom, which were acting as the sentinels at that moment, both mind- fulness and wisdom appeared to become impartial and impassive, not stirring themselves to perform any duty at all. At that moment, the mind was neutral,
not focused on anything. Wisdom didn’t do any work. Mindfulness was alert in its normal way, without being focused on anything.
That moment – when the mind, mindfulness and wisdom were each im- passive and impartial – was the moment when the mental universe over which delusion held sway trembled and quaked. Delusion was thrown down from its throne on the heart. In its place, the pure mind appeared at the same moment that delusion was toppled and eradicated through the power of triumphant mindfulness and wisdom – the moment when the sky came crashing down and the universe within trembled and quaked, showing its final marvel on the border between convention and release. Judgement was passed in the court of justice, with knowledge and vision of release acting as judge. The Middle Way, the truth of the path, was declared absolute winner, while the truth of the origin of suffering was knocked out and carried off on a stretcher, with no way of reviving ever again.
I was utterly astounded and exclaimed, “Isn’t it amazing? Isn’t it amazing? Where has this Dhamma been hiding? How is it that the genuine Dhamma, this amazing Dhamma, exceeding all expectations – exceeding all the world – has now appeared in the mind and is one with the mind? And where were the Buddha and Noble Sangha before this? How is it that these tremendously amaz- ing refuges have now become one with the heart? Is this what the true Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha are like?” They didn’t fit in with our speculations at all, but were simply a pure truth dwelling with a pure truth.
Then I reflected with dismay on the plight of my fellow living beings: “Since this is what the genuine Dhamma is like, how could it be brought out and taught so that others would know and understand? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to live alone until the day the body breaks apart, rather than try to teach anyone?”
As soon as I considered this, a kind of realization suddenly appeared to me: “The Lord Buddha knew this amazing Dhamma all by himself but was able to become the Teacher of all living beings throughout the three levels of existence. How is it that I have been able to teach myself and yet I get discour- aged at the thought of being able to teach others? The teaching methods are not hidden or mysterious, nor is the knowledge that comes from them.” When I realized this, my discouragement at the thought of teaching my fellow monks gradually faded away.
This event made me think of the first moments after the Buddha’s Enlight- enment, when he wearied at the thought of taking the excellent Dhamma in his heart and teaching it to the world because he felt that it lay beyond the capabil- ity of other people to understand. Even though he aspired to be a Teacher to the world, he felt that the Dhamma he had realized was a Dhamma beyond reach, so that it would be hopeless to encourage the world to accept it and practice for its realization. But, when he reflected on the path he had followed to Enlight enment, he realized that the Dhamma wasn’t beyond reach or beyond hope, that there would be infinite benefits for the world if he were to teach the way of the Dhamma whose results he had come to see beyond a doubt. This was why he made up his mind to teach the world from that point on.
I felt the same way because it was an utterly amazing Dhamma that I had never before experienced. When I looked solely at the results in the present, without reflecting back on the causes – the path I followed – I felt disheartened and aban- doned the idea of telling others about this Dhamma. But after reflecting back on the path I followed, I felt more like speaking about the various facets of the Dhamma to the people who have studied and trained with me ever since.
This Dhamma is a fixed truth. Those who know this prin- ciple of truth all trust it in the same way, because the true Buddha, the true Dhamma and the true Sangha exist in the heart. The heart that is truly pure is the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha in full measure. I ask that you take this teaching and earnestly put it into practice. Gain release so as to see it clearly in your heart. The heart that is currently oppressed by defilement and the heart when it has attained release from that oppression: How do they differ in value? Come to see this clearly in your own heart! You won’t see it anywhere else! It will become immediately apparent within the meditator who practices correctly.




The Peace Beyond | Ajahn Chah

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
The Peace Beyond | Ajahn Chah
/

It’s of great importance that we practise the Dhamma. If we don’t practise, then all our knowledge is only superficial knowledge, just the outer shell of it. It’s as if we have some sort of fruit but we haven’t eaten it yet. Even though we have that fruit in our hand we get no benefit from it. Only through the actual eating of the fruit will we really know its taste.

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Chah and is titled The Peace Beyond. It was published as part of the Collected Teachings of Ajahn Chah published by Aruna Publications.

The full translated text and more information can be found on the Forest Path Podcast webpage.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Donate” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


The Peace Beyond
by Ajahn Chah
It’s of great importance that we practise the Dhamma. If we don’t practise, then all our knowledge is only superficial knowledge, just the outer shell of it. It’s as if we have some sort of fruit but we haven’t eaten it yet. Even though we have that fruit in our hand we get no benefit from it. Only through the actual eating of the fruit will we really know its taste.
The Buddha didn’t praise those who merely believe others, he praised the person who knows within himself. Just as with that fruit, if we have tasted it already, we don’t have to ask anyone else if it’s sweet or sour. Our problems are over. Why are they over? Because we see according to the truth. One who has realized the Dhamma is like one who has realized the sweetness or sourness of the fruit. All doubts are ended right here.
When we talk about Dhamma, although we may say a lot, it can usually be brought down to four things. They are simply to know suffering, to know the cause of suffering, to know the end of suffering and to know the path of practice leading to the end of suffering.
This is all there is. All that we have experienced on the path of practice so far comes down to these four things. When we know these things, our problems are over.
Where are these four things born? They are born just within the body and the mind, nowhere else. So why is the teaching of the Buddha so detailed and extensive? This is so in order to explain these things in a more refined way, to help us to see them.
When Siddhattha Gotama was born into the world, before he saw the Dhamma, he was an ordinary person just like us. When he knew what he had to know, that is the truth of suffering, the cause, the end and the way leading to the end of suffering, he realized the Dhamma and became a perfectly Enlightened Buddha.
When we realize the Dhamma, wherever we sit we know Dhamma, wherever we are we hear the Buddha’s teaching. When we understand Dhamma, the Buddha is within our mind, the Dhamma is within our mind, and the practice leading to wisdom is within our own mind. Having the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha within our mind means that whether our actions are good or bad, we know clearly for ourselves their true nature.
That is how the Buddha discarded worldly opinions, praise and criticism. When people praised or criticized him he just accepted it for what it was. These two things are simply worldly conditions so he wasn’t shaken by them. Why not? Because he knew suffering. He knew that if he believed in that praise or criticism they would cause him to suffer.
When suffering arises it agitates us, we feel ill at ease. What is the cause of that suffering? It’s because we don’t know the truth, this is the cause. When the cause is present, then suffering arises. Once arisen we don’t know how to stop it. The more we try to stop it, the more it comes on. We say, ”Don’t criticize me,” or ”Don’t blame me”. Trying to stop it like this, suffering really comes on, it won’t stop.
So the Buddha taught that the way leading to the end of suffering is to make the Dhamma arise as a reality within our own minds. We become those who witness the Dhamma for themselves. If someone says we are good we don’t get lost in it; they say we are no good and we don’t forget ourselves. This way we can be free. ‘Good’ and ‘evil’ are just worldly dhammas, they are just states of mind. If we follow them our mind becomes the world, we just grope in the darkness and don’t know the way out.
If it’s like this then we have not yet mastered ourselves. We try to defeat others, but in doing so we only defeat ourselves; but if we have mastery over ourselves then we have mastery over all-over all mental formations, sights, sounds, smells, tastes and bodily feelings.
Now I’m talking about externals, they’re like that, but the outside is reflected inside also. Some people only know the outside, they don’t know the inside. Like when we say to ‘see the body in the body’. Having seen the outer body is not enough, we must know the body within the body. Then, having investigated the mind, we should know the mind within the mind.
Why should we investigate the body? What is this ‘body in the body’? When we say to know the mind, what is this ‘mind’? If we don’t know the mind then we don’t know the things within the mind. This is to be someone who doesn’t know suffering, doesn’t know the cause, doesn’t know the end and doesn’t know the way leading to the end of suffering. The things which should help to extinguish suffering don’t help, because we get distracted by the things which aggravate it. It’s just as if we have an itch on our head and we scratch our leg! If it’s our head that’s itchy then we’re obviously not going to get much relief. In the same way, when suffering arises we don’t know how to handle it, we don’t know the practice leading to the end of suffering.
For instance, take this body, this body that each of us has brought along to this meeting. If we just see the form of the body there’s no way we can escape suffering. Why not? Because we still don’t see the inside of the body, we only see the outside. We only see it as something beautiful, something substantial. The Buddha said that only this is not enough. We see the outside with our eyes; a child can see it, animals can see it, it’s not difficult. The outside of the body is easily seen, but having seen it we stick to it, we don’t know the truth of it. Having seen it we grab onto it and it bites us!
So we should investigate the body within the body. Whatever’s in the body, go ahead and look at it. If we just see the outside it’s not clear. We see hair, nails and so on and they are just pretty things which entice us, so the Buddha taught to see the inside of the body, to see the body within the body. What is in the body? Look closely within! We will find many surprises inside, because even though they are within us, we’ve never seen them. Wherever we walk we carry them with us, sitting in a car we carry them with us, but we still don’t know them at all!
It’s as if we visit some relatives at their house and they give us a present. We take it and put it in our bag and then leave without opening it to see what is inside. When at last we open it – full of poisonous snakes! Our body is like this. If we just see the shell of it we say it’s fine and beautiful. We forget ourselves. We forget impermanence, suffering and not-self. If we look within this body it’s really repulsive.
If we look according to reality, without trying to sugar things over, we’ll see that it’s really pitiful and wearisome. Dispassion will arise. This feeling of ‘disinterest’ is not that we feel aversion for the world or anything; it’s simply our mind clearing up, our mind letting go. We see things as not substantial or dependable, but that all things are naturally established just as they are. However we want them to be, they just go their own way regardless. Whether we laugh or cry, they simply are the way they are. Things which are unstable are unstable; things which are not beautiful are not beautiful.
So the Buddha said that when we experience sights, sounds, tastes, smells, bodily feelings or mental states, we should release them. When the ear hears sounds, let them go. When the nose smells an odour, let it go…just leave it at the nose! When bodily feelings arise, let go of the like or dislike that follow, let them go back to their birth-place. The same for mental states. All these things, just let them go their way. This is knowing. Whether it’s happiness or unhappiness, it’s all the same. This is called meditation.
Meditation means to make the mind peaceful in order to let wisdom arise. This requires that we practise with body and mind in order to see and know the sense impressions of form, sound, taste, smell, touch and mental formations. To put it shortly, it’s just a matter of happiness and unhappiness. Happiness is pleasant feeling in the mind, unhappiness is just unpleasant feeling. The Buddha taught to separate this happiness and unhappiness from the mind. The mind is that which knows. Feeling2 is the characteristic of happiness or unhappiness, like or dislike. When the mind indulges in these things we say that it clings to or takes that happiness and unhappiness to be worthy of holding. That clinging is an action of mind, that happiness or unhappiness is feeling.
When we say the Buddha told us to separate the mind from the feeling, he didn’t literally mean to throw them to different places. He meant that the mind must know happiness and know unhappiness. When sitting in samādhi, for example, and peace fills the mind, then happiness comes but it doesn’t reach us, unhappiness comes but doesn’t reach us. This is to separate the feeling from the mind. We can compare it to oil and water in a bottle. They don’t combine. Even if you try to mix them, the oil remains oil and the water remains water, because they are of different density.
The natural state of the mind is neither happiness nor unhappiness. When feeling enters the mind then happiness or unhappiness is born. If we have mindfulness then we know pleasant feeling as pleasant feeling. The mind which knows will not pick it up. Happiness is there but it’s ‘outside’ the mind, not buried within the mind. The mind simply knows it clearly.
If we separate unhappiness from the mind, does that mean there is no suffering, that we don’t experience it? Yes, we experience it, but we know mind as mind, feeling as feeling. We don’t cling to that feeling or carry it around. The Buddha separated these things through knowledge. Did he have suffering? He knew the state of suffering but he didn’t cling to it, so we say that he cut suffering off. And there was happiness too, but he knew that happiness, if it’s not known, is like a poison. He didn’t hold it to be himself. Happiness was there through knowledge, but it didn’t exist in his mind. Thus we say that he separated happiness and unhappiness from his mind.
When we say that the Buddha and the Enlightened Ones killed defilements, it’s not that they really killed them. If they had killed all defilements then we probably wouldn’t have any! They didn’t kill defilements; when they knew them for what they are, they let them go. Someone who’s stupid will grab them, but the Enlightened Ones knew the defilements in their own minds as a poison, so they swept them out. They swept out the things which caused them to suffer, they didn’t kill them. One who doesn’t know this will see some things, such as happiness, as good, and then grab them, but the Buddha just knew them and simply brushed them away.
But when feeling arises for us we indulge in it, that is, the mind carries that happiness and unhappiness around. In fact they are two different things. The activities of mind, pleasant feeling, unpleasant feeling and so on, are mental impressions, they are the world. If the mind knows this it can equally do work involving happiness or unhappiness. Why? Because it knows the truth of these things. Someone who doesn’t know them sees them as having different value, but one who knows sees them as equal. If you cling to happiness it will be the birth-place of unhappiness later on, because happiness is unstable, it changes all the time. When happiness disappears, unhappiness arises.
The Buddha knew that because both happiness and unhappiness are unsatisfactory, they have the same value. When happiness arose he let it go. He had right practice, seeing that both these things have equal values and drawbacks. They come under the Law of Dhamma, that is, they are unstable and unsatisfactory. Once born, they die. When he saw this, right view arose, the right way of practice became clear. No matter what sort of feeling or thinking arose in his mind, he knew it as simply the continuous play of happiness and unhappiness. He didn’t cling to them.
When the Buddha was newly enlightened he gave a sermon about indulgence in pleasure and indulgence in pain. ”Monks! Indulgence in pleasure is the loose way, indulgence in pain is the tense way.” These were the two things that disturbed his practice until the day he was enlightened, because at first he didn’t let go of them. When he knew them, he let them go, and so was able to give his first sermon.
So we say that a meditator should not walk the way of happiness or unhappiness, rather he should know them. Knowing the truth of suffering, he will know the cause of suffering, the end of suffering and the way leading to the end of suffering. And the way out of suffering is meditation itself. To put it simply, we must be mindful.
Mindfulness is knowing, or presence of mind. Right now what are we thinking, what are we doing? What do we have with us right now? We observe like this, we are aware of how we are living. Practising like this, wisdom can arise. We consider and investigate at all times, in all postures. When a mental impression arises that we like we know it as such, we don’t hold it to be anything substantial. It’s j ust happiness. When unhappiness arises we know that it’s indulgence in pain, it’s not the path of a meditator.
This is what we call separating the mind from the feeling. If we are clever we don’t attach, we leave things be. We become the ‘one who knows’. The mind and feeling are just like oil and water; they are in the same bottle but they don’t mix. Even if we are sick or in pain, we still know the feeling as feeling, the mind as mind. We know the painful or comfortable states but we don’t identify with them. We stay only with peace: the peace beyond both comfort and pain.
You should understand it like this, because if there is no permanent self then there is no refuge. You must live like this, that is, without happiness and without unhappiness. You stay only with the knowing, you don’t carry things around.
As long as we are still unenlightened all this may sound strange but it doesn’t matter, we just set our goal in this direction. The mind is the mind. It meets happiness and unhappiness and we see them as merely that, there’s nothing more to it. They are divided, not mixed. If they are all mixed up then we don’t know them. It’s like living in a house; the house and its occupant are related, but separate. If there is danger in our house we are distressed because we must protect it, but if the house catches fire we get out of it. If painful feeling arises we get out of it, j ust like that house. When it’s full of fire and we know it, we come running out of it. They are separate things; the house is one thing, the occupant is another.
We say that we separate mind and feeling in this way but in fact they are by nature already separate. Our realization is simply to know this natural separateness according to reality. When we say they are not separated it’s because we’re clinging to them through ignorance of the truth.
So the Buddha told us to meditate. This practice of meditation is very important. Merely to know with the intellect is not enough. The knowledge which arises from practice with a peaceful mind and the knowledge which comes from study are really far apart. The knowledge which comes from study is not real knowledge of our mind. The mind tries to hold onto and keep this knowledge. Why do we try to keep it? Just to lose it! And then when it’s lost we cry.
If we really know, then there’s letting go, leaving things be. We know how things are and don’t forget ourselves. If it happens that we are sick we don’t get lost in that. Some people think, ”This year I was sick the whole time, I couldn’t meditate at all.” These are the words of a really foolish person. Someone who’s sick or dying should really be diligent in his practice. One may say he doesn’t have time to meditate. He’s sick, he’s suffering, he doesn’t trust his body, and so he feels that he can’t meditate. If we think like this then things are difficult. The Buddha didn’t teach like that. He said that right here is the place to meditate. When we’re sick or almost dying that’s when we can really know and see reality.
Other people say they don’t have the chance to meditate because they’re too busy. Sometimes school teachers come to see me. They say they have many responsibilities so there’s no time to meditate. I ask them, ”When you’re teaching do you have time to breathe?” They answer, ”Yes.” ”So how can you have time to breathe if the work is so hectic and confusing? Here you are far from Dhamma.”
Actually this practice is just about the mind and its feelings. It’s not something that you have to run after or struggle for. Breathing continues while working. Nature takes care of the natural processes – all we have to do is try to be aware. Just to keep trying, going inwards to see clearly. Meditation is like this.
If we have that presence of mind then whatever work we do will be the very tool which enables us to know right and wrong continually. There’s plenty of time to meditate, we just don’t fully understand the practice, that’s all. While sleeping we breathe, eating we breathe, don’t we? Why don’t we have time to meditate? Wherever we are we breathe. If we think like this then our life has as much value as our breath, wherever we are we have time.
All kinds of thinking are mental conditions, not conditions of body, so we need simply have presence of mind, then we will know right and wrong at all times. Standing, walking, sitting and lying, there’s plenty of time. We just don’t know how to use it properly. Please consider this.
We cannot run away from feeling, we must know it. Feeling is just feeling, happiness is just happiness, unhappiness is just unhappiness. They are simply that. So why should we cling to them? If the mind is clever, simply to hear this is enough to enable us to separate feeling from the mind.
If we investigate like this continuously the mind will find release, but it’s not escaping through ignorance. The mind lets go, but it knows. It doesn’t let go through stupidity, not because it doesn’t want things to be the way they are. It lets go because it knows according to the truth. This is seeing nature, the reality that’s all around us.
When we know this we are someone who’s skilled with the mind, we are skilled with mental impressions. When we are skilled with mental impressions we are skilled with the world. This is to be a ‘knower of the world.’ The Buddha was someone who clearly knew the world with all its difficulty. He knew the troublesome, and that which was not troublesome was right there. This world is so confusing, how is it that the Buddha was able to know it? Here we should understand that the Dhamma taught by the Buddha is not beyond our ability. In all postures we should have presence of mind and self awareness – and when it’s time to sit meditation we do that.
We sit in meditation to establish peacefulness and cultivate mental energy. We don’t do it in order to play around at anything special. Insight meditation is sitting in samādhi itself. At some places they say, ”Now we are going to sit in samādhi, after that we’ll do insight meditation.” Don’t divide them like this! Tranquillity is the base which gives rise to wisdom; wisdom is the fruit of tranquillity. To say that now we are going to do calm meditation, later we’ll do insight – you can’t do that! You can only divide them in speech. Just like a knife, the blade is on one side, the back of the blade on the other. You can’t divide them. If you pick up one side you get both sides. Tranquillity gives rise to wisdom like this.
Morality is the father and mother of Dhamma. In the beginning we must have morality. Morality is peace. This means that there are no wrong doings in body or speech. When we don’t do wrong then we don’t get agitated; when we don’t become agitated then peace and collectedness arise within the mind.
So we say that morality, concentration and wisdom are the path on which all the Noble Ones have walked to enlightenment. They are all one. Morality is concentration, concentration is morality. Concentration is wisdom, wisdom is concentration. It’s like a mango. When it’s a flower we call it a flower. When it becomes a fruit we call it a mango. When it ripens we call it a ripe mango. It’s all one mango but it continually changes. The big mango grows from the small mango, the small mango becomes a big one. You can call them different fruits or all one. Morality, concentration and wisdom are related like this. In the end it’s all the path that leads to enlightenment.
The mango, from the moment it first appears as a flower, simply grows to ripeness. This is enough, we should see it like this. Whatever others call it, it doesn’t matter. Once it’s born it grows to old age, and then where? We should contemplate this.
Some people don’t want to be old. When they get old they become depressed. These people shouldn’t eat ripe mangoes! Why do we want the mangoes to be ripe? If they’re not ripe in time, we ripen them artificially, don’t we? But when we become old we are filled with regret. Some people cry, they’re afraid to get old or die. If it’s like this then they shouldn’t eat ripe mangoes, better eat just the flowers! If we can see this then we can see the Dhamma. Everything clears up, we are at peace. Just determine to practise like that.
Today the Chief Privy Councillor and his party have come together to hear the Dhamma. You should take what I’ve said and contemplate it. If anything is not right, please excuse me. But for you to know whether it’s right or wrong depends on your practising and seeing for yourselves. Whatever’s wrong, throw it out. If it’s right then take it and use it. But actually we practise in order to let go of both right and wrong. In the end we just throw everything out. If it’s right, throw it out; wrong, throw it out! Usually if it’s right we cling to rightness, if it’s wrong we hold it to be wrong, and then arguments follow. But the Dhamma is the place where there’s nothing – nothing at all.




Khanda (Aggregates of Being) | Ajahn Tate

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Khanda (Aggregates of Being) | Ajahn Tate
/

The Dhamma is not something external that is miles way. We have come across quite a lot of it already. We may have forgotten some of it. The Dhamma is close by. It is our “being”. Because it is so handy, we take it for granted and tend to forget about it. Being so handy, we think we can examine it anytime we choose.

This episode is a dhamma talk given by the Thai meditation master Ajahn Tate and is titled “Khanda” which translates as “The Aggregates of Existence”. According to the Buddha and to the Awakened meditation masters of all ages, a human being is made up of five aggregates or “groups of existence”, namely: physical form or the body; consciousness; feelings; perceptions and mental formations. In this teaching Ajahn Tate explains how to understand and to see directly into these five aggregates of being.

This teaching was translated by Steven Towler and was made available for free distribution in the publication “Words of the Master” which was published in 2023. You can find links to the original text in the show.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


Khanda – The Aggregates Of Being
by Ajahn Tate
I will talk about the Dhamma, for you to listen to. The Dhamma is not something external that is miles way. We have come across quite a lot of it already. We may have forgotten some of it. The Dhamma is close by. It is our “being”. Because it is so handy, we take it for granted and tend to forget about it. Being so handy, we think we can examine it anytime we choose.
The word “Dhamma” in this Khandha (Aggregates) sense refers to everything in the cosmos. This is what it is. This is where it is to be found. This is Dhamma.
The words “seeing Dhamma” refer to seeing the reality of existence. This is what it means. I call on you to understand that this is the way things are. It means seeing the (true) nature of Dhamma.
I want you to understand that anything and everything about our being is nothing but Dhamma. For example, we can see that there is birth, aging and death associated with our body. However, we don’t want to look at this and so we miss seeing the Dhamma. The reason we do not see Dhamma is we don’t find it satisfying. We don’t believe in it. We are not excited about the way things are. However, should satisfaction, belief and excitement in the Dhamma occur, set about investigating it. A clarity, a luminosity will then arise in your heart.
This is the reason why those who examine Dhamma are always examining their body. I implore you to have faith, belief, satisfaction and excitement in the various Dhamma of the body. This will be of great benefit in making up for your shortcomings.
What I am going to explain today is one of the many aspects of Dhamma. This aspect is called the 5 Khandha (Aggregates). These are our being, not some distant thing. Every aspect of our being can be referred to as the 5 Khandha. The 5 Khandha are: Rupa, Vedanā, Saññā, Sankhāra and Viññāna. Rupa is evident as our body (form). Vedanā is happy or painful or neither happy nor painful feelings. These all occur in our being. Saññā is memory and that which gives meaning to various things. Sankhāra is thought and imagination. Viññāna is consciousness.
Today, I am going to explain just these five. They all form our being. They coalesce in our being. All five are entirely in our being, however, we fail to examine them, and I am going to explain “why”, so that you understand.
Rupa
We examine this from the point of view of the body being disgustingly filthy, not beautiful, not pretty. Every aspect of our body is like this. Sweat and skin flakes flow from the body. They are excrement. We look at this and see it as filth, so we take a shower to clean this rotten body. A body that is rotten at any time of day, rotten even before we die. Disgusting substances ooze out of the body. Colloquially, we call this stuff crap. That is to say, it is still vile for a while and so we call it crap. It is not actual shit. It is concealed for a little while, but it still stinks. This collection of crap we have in our body right now. We have the complete set, mucus, saliva, ear wax, sleep. It’s all crap and even though it is only slightly gross, we don’t like looking at it. We call this covering our eyes and ears. Whatever we excrete from the body is nothing but crap.
Any amount of waste is called crap. For example, wood shavings, saw dust and coconut husks. All are considered to be crap. A portion of the food we eat goes towards nourishing the body. It gets excreted without much attention and we call this shit. This is Dhamma. I call on you to investigate this as being Dhamma. See it as Dhamma. Whoever hides from the truth, it’s still the truth. I am saying this so that you can see the facts, that this is Dhamma. This is referred to as investigation of the body as being excrement. The body can also be analysed as being Dhatu (elements). The elements are: the earth element, the water element, the fire element and the air element. These are the four elements. This body is a lump of earth. It is not male or female. The nomenclature of male and female is simply a convention, a supposition. In reality, they are lumps of elements and nothing else. These lumps are just the four elements. This is one aspect of Dhamma and is referred to as Dhamma Dhatu.
You could also analyse the body from the point of view of Aniccaṁ, impermanence. Or, you could see the body as Dukkhaṁ, something (torment) you cannot withstand. Or, you could see it as Anattā, void of any self.
This mass we have right now, I have said is the 4 Dhatu, earth, water, fire and air. These are disgusting excrement. This is all the same thing. It is Dhamma. As I have said, these are the 5 Khandha and we call this our body. So, where else would you go? The Dhamma can already be found in our bodies. When you have complete belief in this, you will exclaim, “Oh! We already possess the Dhamma. We already have all the Dhamma right here in our body.” [Have strong faith, then investigate the body but this time with contempt and indignation1. Investigate the body as 4 Dhatu or as filth. Examine it as being a Khandha.]
Rupa Khandha
Rupa Khandha is a lump of pain and suffering. From the time of birth, it experiences suffering and hardship. However, we choose to believe we do not suffer. When we have a fever and sickness, we search for medicine to make us better. When we have become tired through walking, we sit down. When we are tired of sitting, we lie down. These things obscure the suffering, so that we don’t see it. We don’t see the suffering and so we don’t see the Dhamma. See the suffering. This is what you need to do to see the Dhamma. When you change your posture as mentioned, pain doesn’t arise. As pain does not occur, you fail to see the Dhamma.
When you deconstruct things, you will be able to explain them in great detail. There will be no end to the words you could say. If you break it all down and you see things vividly in your heart, you will discover that the body is completely insubstantial. You will see it is just a form that can move around, and nothing more.
Vedanā Khandha
This refers to Sukha (happiness), Dukkha (suffering) or Upekkhā, equanimity or indifference. Investigate Dukkha in the way that I have told you. Various aches and pains, hunger and thirst, freezing and boiling hot, or various weaknesses, can all be lumped together as Dukkha. People just want Sukha but get Dukkha, which they don’t want to talk about. It is still Dukkha, even if they don’t want to discuss it. It is not the case that by not discussing Dukkha, it vanishes. When anxiety, confusion and worry arise, people say, “Jeez, that was really painful.” However, it escapes them to investigate this as being Dukkha.
Happy feelings are few and far between. We have happiness, but not much, and then Dukkha returns. In most instances, Dukkha is perceived as Sukha. This is what is called being deluded and mistaken about Dukkha being Sukha.
Upekkhā Vedanā, now, where on earth can you find this? It is not often found in us. Upekkhā Vedanā is very hard to find. When Upekkhā does occur, it doesn’t last long. It’s gone in a flash. However, it is seen very clearly by those people that enter Samādhi Samāpatti4. In these states the Citta converges into a single, central point. This is how you experience Upekkhā Vedanā. If you are no good at Samādhi, thinking of all sorts of things, here, there and everywhere, in the past and in the future, you won’t experience Upekkhā at all. Whenever, anyone sends out their thoughts all over the place, the Citta won’t converge. They won’t achieve Samādhi Bhāvanā and they won’t experience Upekkhā Vedanā.
This is another Khandha and it is called Vedanā Khandha.
Saññā Khandha
This refers to recognising/remembering every single sense object. All of our experiences in the past and the future are concentrated and remembered here in our heart. This is where they are nurtured. This is what we call Saññā.
Sankhāra Khandha
This is thinking and imagining anything that can be thought about, day or night, without end. This is Sankhāra Khandha.
Viññāna Khandha
This Viññāna is the Viññāna in the five Khandha. There are two types of Viññāna. The first is Viññāna in the five Khandha. The second is the Patisandhi Viññāna. The Patisandhi Viññāna is the re-birth consciousness that is the first consciousness that occurs at birth. The Viññāna of the five Khandha means the “knowing” that arises with Phassa (sense contact), which then vanishes. For example, the eye sees a form (object). “The one who knows”5 this form is called Viññāna. After this, Saññā takes over. It recognises the type of form. Saññā then passes away.
Sankhāra then jumps in and starts thinking and imagining. The awareness of the form in the first place is called Viññāna Khandha and is one of the five Khandha.
Whether it is the Viññāna of the five Khandha or the Patisandhi Viññāna, they are basically the same thing, not miles apart. They are in the heart, the same heart, but they have different functions. If it has the function of “the one who knows” or awareness arising from Phassa with the six Āyatana (the six senses, sight, sound, taste, smell, touch, thought) it is called Viññāna Khandha. Patisandhi Viññāna is that which guides birth. If this Viññāna did not happen, there would be no birth. It is the culmination of Avijjā, Tanhā, Upādāna and Kamma6. These coalesce in this Viññāna.
In reality, Avijjā is the heart. Tanhā, is the heart. Upādāna is the heart. Kamma is the heart. When we talk about them coalescing in one place, this is just for the purposes of description. In reality, we don’t refer to this as coalescing. These four Dhamma simply perform their function for the being that is to take birth. A being that takes birth must have a complete set of these four Dhamma if birth is to take place.
Why are these called Khandha? Khandha translates as a component of a group. These are components. Just as an external vessel in which we put rice, water, flowers, etc., this is one type of vessel, which people use to store different things so that they don’t become scattered. What we have here is the same. Khandha is a way of arranging Rupa, Vedanā, Saññā and Viññāna as a group so as to preserve their relationship.
The conventional, everyday world can be explained in many ways. The complete explanation is the story of the heart, which can be called the Khandha, or Dhātu or Āyatanā or various other names. But it all boils down to a single spot, the heart. As soon as we apply various labels to it, we become complacent and forget about the originator, the heart. Everything at that is born into this world depends most significantly on the heart. The heart is the one who sees the Dhamma. The heart is superior to all else. If the heart did not exist, nothing in the world would be. The entire world springs forth from the heart. Just like building a massive house, if there was no heart, who would build the house? How could anyone live if there was no heart? They would be nothing.
The heart is paramount. We live only because of the heart.
I call on you to explore what I have said. You don’t need to investigate something miles away. All the Dhamma is to be found in our being. I call on you to have resolute faith in the heart, in the Dhamma, the words of the Lord Buddha. To the extent that you exclaim, “Oh! The Dhamma exist right here within us.” Whether you go north or south, near or far, every aspect of the Dhamma is present in this body. We carry the Dhamma around with us, but we fail to observe it and this is why we don’t see it.
If there comes a time when you do observe what’s right here, a clear understanding of the Dhamma will arise and you’ll say, “Oh, I get it. The Dhamma lies within us and that is all there is to it.” It exists right here. There is no need to rush around (to find it). We already have the Dhamma right here in our being. This is the Teaching of Lord Buddha. Every sacred text emanates from this Dhamma and nothing else.


The Middle Way Within | Ajahn Chah

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
The Middle Way Within | Ajahn Chah
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THE TEACHING OF BUDDHISM is about giving up evil and practising good. Then, when evil is given up and goodness is established, we must let go of both good and evil. We have already heard enough about wholesome and unwholesome conditions to understand something about them, so I would like to talk about the Middle Way, that is, the path to transcend both of those things.

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Chah and is titled The Middle Way Within. It was published as part of the Collected Teachings of Ajahn Chah published by Aruna Publications.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

More information about this episode can be found on the Forest Path Podcast website.

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


The Middle Way Within
by Ajahn Chah
THE TEACHING OF BUDDHISM is about giving up evil and practising good. Then, when evil is given up and goodness is established, we must let go of both good and evil. We have already heard enough about wholesome and unwholesome conditions to understand something about them, so I would like to talk about the Middle Way, that is, the path to transcend both of those things.
All the Dhamma talks and teachings of the Buddha have one aim – to show the way out of suffering to those who have not yet escaped. The teachings are for the purpose of giving us the right understanding. If we don’t understand rightly, then we can’t arrive at peace.
When all the Buddhas became enlightened and gave their first teach- ings, they pointed out these two extremes – indulgence in pleasure and indulgence in pain. These two types of infatuation are the opposite poles between which those who indulge in sense pleasures must fluctuate, never arriving at peace. They are the paths which spin around in samsara.
The Enlightened One observed that all beings are stuck in these two extremes, never seeing the Middle Way of Dhamma, so he pointed them out in order to show the penalty involved in both. Because we are still stuck, because we are still wanting, we live repeatedly under their sway. The Buddha declared that these two ways are the ways of intoxication, they are not the ways of a meditator, not the ways to peace. These ways are indulgence in pleasure and indulgence in pain, or, to put it simply, the way of slackness and the way of tension.
If you investigate within, moment by moment, you will see that the tense way is anger, the way of sorrow. Going this way there is only diffculty and distress. If you’ve transcended indulgence in pleasure it means you’ve transcended happiness. Happiness and unhappiness, are not peaceful states. The Buddha taught to let go of both of them. This is right practice. This is the Middle Way.
These words, `the Middle Way’, do not refer to our body and speech, they refer to the mind. When a mental impression which we don’t like arises, it affects the mind and there is confusion. When the mind is confused, when it’s `shaken up’, this is not the right way. When a mental impression arises which we like, the mind goes to indulgence in pleasure – that’s not the way either.
We people don’t want suffering, we want happiness. But in fact happi- ness is just a refined form of suffering. Suffering itself is the coarse form. You can compare it to a snake. The head of the snake is unhappiness, the tail of the snake is happiness. The head of the snake is really dangerous, it has poisonous fangs. If you touch it, the snake will bite straight away. But never mind the head; even if you go and hold onto the tail, it will turn around and bite you just the same, because both the head and the tail belong to the one snake.
In the same way, both happiness and unhappiness, or pleasure and sadness, arise from the same parent – wanting. So when you’re happy the mind isn’t peaceful. It really isn’t! For instance, when we get the things we like, such as wealth, prestige, praise or happiness, we become pleased as a result. But the mind still harbours some uneasiness because we’re afraid of losing it. That very fear isn’t a peaceful state. Later on we may actually lose that thing and then we really suffer.
Thus, if you aren’t aware, even if you’re happy, suffering is imminent. It’s just the same as grabbing the snake’s tail – if you don’t let go it will bite. So whether it’s the snake’s tail or its head, that is, wholesome or unwholesome conditions, they’re all just characteristics of the `Wheel of Existence’, of endless change.
The Buddha established morality, concentration and wisdom as the path to peace, the way to enlightenment. But in truth these things are not the essence of Buddhism. They are merely the path. The Buddha called them magga, which means `path’. The essence of Buddhism is peace, and that peace arises from truly knowing the nature of all things. If we investigate closely, we can see that peace is neither happiness nor unhappiness. Neither of these is the truth.
The human mind, the mind which the Buddha exhorted us to know and investigate, is something we can only know by its activity. The true `original mind’ has nothing to measure it by, there’s nothing you can know it by. In its natural state it is unshaken, unmoving. When happiness arises all that happens is that this mind gets lost in a mental impression; there is movement. When the mind moves like this, clinging and attachment to those things come into being.
The Buddha has already laid down the path of practice in its entirety, but we have not yet practised, or if we have, we’ve practised only in speech. Our minds and our speech are not yet in harmony, we just indulge in empty talk. But the basis of Buddhism is not something that can be talked about or guessed at. The real basis of Buddhism is full knowledge of the truth of reality. If one knows this truth then no teaching is necessary. If one doesn’t know, even if he listens to the teaching, he doesn’t really hear. This is why the Buddha said, `The Enlightened One only points the way.’ He can’t do the practice for you, because the truth is something you can not put into words or give away.
All the teachings are merely similes and comparisons, means to help 1magga: `Path’; Specifically, the path to the cessation of suffering. If we haven’t seen the truth we must suffer. For example, we commonly use the term `sankhara’ when referring to the body. Anybody can say it, but in fact we have problems simply because we don’t know the truth of these sankhara, and thus cling to them. Because we don’t know the truth of the body, we suffer.
Here is an example. Suppose one morning you’re walking to work and a man yells abuse and insults at you from across the street. As soon as you hear this abuse your mind changes from its usual state. You don’t feel so good, you feel angry and hurt. That man walks around abusing you night and day. Whenever you hear the abuse, you get angry, and even when you return home you’re still angry because you feel vindictive, you want to get even. A few days later another man comes to your house and calls out, `Hey! That man who abused you the other day, he’s mad, he’s crazy! Has been for years! He abuses everybody like that. Nobody takes any notice of anything he says.’ As soon as you hear this you are suddenly relieved. That anger and hurt that you’ve pent up within you all these days melts away completely. Why? Because you know the truth of the matter now. Before, you didn’t know, you thought that man was normal, so you were angry at him. Thinking like that caused you to suffer. As soon as you ffnd out the truth, everything changes: `Oh, he’s mad! That explains everything!’
When you understand this you feel fine, because you know for yourself. Having known, then you can let go. If you don’t know the truth you cling right there. When you thought that man who abused you was normal you could have killed him. But when you find out the truth, that he’s mad, you feel much better. This is knowledge of the truth.
Someone who sees the Dhamma has a similar experience. When attach- ment, aversion and delusion disappear, they disappear in the same way. As long as we don’t know these things we think, `What can I do? I have so much greed and aversion.’ This is not clear knowledge. It’s just the same as when we thought the madman was sane. When we finally see that he was mad all along we’re relieved of worry. No one could show you this. Only when the mind sees for itself can it uproot and relinquish attachment.
It’s the same with this body which we call `sankhara’. Although the Buddha has already explained that the body is not substantial or a real being as such, we still don’t agree, we stubbornly cling to it. If the body could talk, it would be telling us all day long, `You’re not my owner, you know.’ Actually it’s telling us all the time, but it’s Dhamma language, so we’re unable to understand it.
For instance, the sense organs of eye, ear, nose, tongue and body are continually changing, but I’ve never seen them ask permission from us even once! Like when we have a headache or a stomach ache – the body never asks permission first, it just goes right ahead, following its natural course. This shows that the body doesn’t allow anyone to be its owner, it doesn’t have an owner. The Buddha described it as an object void of substance. We don’t understand the Dhamma and so we don’t understand these `sankhara’; we take them to be ourselves, as belonging to us or belonging to others. This gives rise to clinging. When clinging arises, `becoming’ follows. Once becoming arises, then there is birth. Once there is birth, then old age, sickness, death … the whole mass of suffering arises.
This is the paticcasamuppada. We say ignorance gives rise to volitional activities, they give rise to consciousness and so on. All these things are simply events in the mind. When we come into contact with something we don’t like, if we don’t have mindfulness, ignorance is there. Suering arises straight away. But the mind passes through these changes so rapidly that we can’t keep up with them. It’s the same as when you fall from a tree. Before you know it – `Thud!’ – you’ve hit the ground. Actually you’ve passed many branches and twigs on the way, but you couldn’t count them, you couldn’t remember them as you passed them. You just fall, and then `Thud!’
The paticcasamuppada is the same as this. If we divide it up as it is in the scriptures, we say ignorance gives rise to volitional activities, volitional activities give rise to consciousness, consciousness gives rise to mind and paticca-samuppada: Dependent co-arising; dependent origination; the description of the arising and ceasing of the five khandhas. matter, mind and matter give rise to the six sense bases, the sense bases give rise to sense contact, contact gives rise to feeling, feeling gives rise to wanting, wanting gives rise to clinging, clinging gives rise to becoming, becoming gives rise to birth, birth gives rise to old age, sickness, death, and all forms of sorrow. But in truth, when you come into contact with something you don’t like, there’s immediate suffering! That feeling of suffering is actually the result of the whole chain of the paticcasamuppada. This is why the Buddha exhorted his disciples to investigate and know fully their own minds. When people are born into the world they are without names – once born, we name them. This is convention. We give people names for the sake of convenience, to call each other by. The scriptures are the same. We separate everything with labels to make studying the reality convenient. In the same way, all things are simply sankhara. Their original nature is merely that of compounded things. The Buddha said that they are impermanent, unsatisfactory and not-self. They are unstable. We don’t understand this firmly, our understanding is not straight, and so we have wrong view. This wrong view is that the sankhara are ourselves, we are the sankhara, or that happiness and unhappiness are ourselves, we are happiness and unhappiness. Seeing like this is not full, clear knowledge of the true nature of things. The truth is that we can’t force all these things to follow our desires, they follow the way of nature.
Here is a simple comparison: suppose you go and sit in the middle of a freeway with the cars and trucks charging down at you. You can’t get angry at the cars, shouting, `Don’t drive over here! Don’t drive over here!’ It’s a freeway, you can’t tell them that. So what can you do? You get off the road! The road is the place where cars run, if you don’t want the cars to be there, you suffer.
It’s the same with sankhara. We say they disturb us, like when we sit in meditation and hear a sound. We think, `Oh, that sound’s bothering me.’ If we understand that the sound bothers us then we suffer accordingly. If we investigate a little deeper, we will see that it’s we who go out and disturb the sound! The sound is simply sound. If we understand like this then there’s nothing more to it, we leave it be. We see that the sound is one thing, we are another. One who understands that the sound comes to disturb him is one who doesn’t see himself. He really doesn’t! Once you see yourself, then you’re at ease. The sound is just sound, why should you go and grab it? You see that actually it was you who went out and disturbed the sound.
This is real knowledge of the truth. You see both sides, so you have peace. If you see only one side, there is suffering. Once you see both sides, then you follow the Middle Way. This is the right practice of the mind. This is what we call straightening out our understanding. In the same way, the nature of all sankhara is impermanence and death, but we want to grab them; we carry them about and covet them. We want them to be true. We want to find truth within the things that aren’t true. Whenever someone sees like this and clings to the sankhara as being himself, he suffers.
The practice of Dhamma is not dependent on being a monk, a novice or a layman; it depends on straightening out your understanding. If our understanding is correct, we arrive at peace. Whether you are ordained or not it’s the same, every person has the chance to practise Dhamma, to contemplate it. We all contemplate the same thing. If you attain peace, it’s all the same peace; it’s the same path, with the same methods.
Therefore the Buddha didn’t discriminate between laymen and monks, he taught all people to practise in order to know the truth of the sankhara. When we know this truth, we let them go. If we know the truth there will be no more becoming or birth. How is there no more birth? There is no way for birth to take place because we fully know the truth of sankhara. If we fully know the truth, then there is peace. Having or not having, it’s all the same. Gain and loss are one. The Buddha taught us to know this. This is peace; peace from happiness, unhappiness, gladness and sorrow.
We must see that there is no reason to be born. Born in what way? Born into gladness: when we get something we like we are glad over it. If there is no clinging to that gladness there is no birth. If there is clinging, this is called `birth’. So if we get something, we aren’t born into gladness. If we lose something, we aren’t born into sorrow. This is the birthless and the deathless. Birth and death are both founded in clinging to and cherishing the sankhara.
So the Buddha said: `There is no more becoming for me, finished is the holy life, this is my last birth.’ There! He knew the birthless and the deathless. This is what the Buddha constantly exhorted his disciples to know. This is the right practice. If you don’t reach it, if you don’t reach the Middle Way, then you won’t transcend suffering.


The Middleness of the Middle Way | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
The Middleness of the Middle Way | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

I can tell a resolute person when I see him – like the Venerable Ajaan Mun. It was intimidating just to look at him. How could mental defilements not be intimidated by him? Even we monks were intimidated by him, and the defilements are smarter than we are, so how could they not be intimidated? They had to be intimidated. That’s the way things have to be. A teacher who possesses the Dhamma, who possesses virtue, has to be resolute so as to eliminate evil. He must be really resolute. The stronger the evil, the more resolute and strong his goodness has to be. It can’t afford not to be resolute and strong. Otherwise, goodness will lose out.

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled The Middleness of the Middle Way. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna. If you’d like to support my work by making a donation to help cover the costs of hosting and other services that make this possible, click on the “Buy me a coffee” link below (or go to https://ko-fi.com/solhanna ).

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.


The Middleness Of The Middle Way
by Ajahn Maha Boowa


I can tell a resolute person when I see him – like the Venerable Ajaan Mun. It was intimidating just to look at him. How could mental defilements not be intimidated by him? Even we monks were intimidated by him, and the defilements are smarter than we are, so how could they not be intimidated? They had to be intimidated. That’s the way things have to be. A teacher who possesses the Dhamma, who possesses virtue, has to be resolute so as to eliminate evil. He must be really resolute. The stronger the evil, the more resolute and strong his goodness has to be. It can’t afford not to be resolute and strong. Otherwise, goodness will lose out.
Suppose this place is dirty: However dirty it may be, we can’t clean it just by splashing it with a glass of water, can we? We’d have to use a lot of water to make it clean. If this place were filled with a pile of excrement, we’d have to splash it with a whole bucket of water. And not just an ordinary bucket – a great big one. A mighty splash, and all the excrement would be scattered. The place would become clean because the water was stronger. Being resolute means being earnest toward everything of every sort within the bounds of reason. Take this and think it over. If you act weakly when training yourself, you’re not on the path. You have to be strong in fighting with the mind’s defilements. Don’t let the strong defilements step all over you. If we don’t have any way of fighting defilements – if we’re weak and irresolute – we’re not good for much at all.
For those who want what is clean and good from the Dhamma: What is the Dhamma like? What did the Buddha teach? What sort of defilement is eliminated by what sort of Dhamma so that it deserves to be called the Middle Way? The Buddha taught, “The Middle Way realized by the Tathagata – pro- ducing vision, producing realization – leads to calm, to direct knowledge, to self-awakening, to Nibbana.” This is in the Discourse on ‘Setting the Wheel of Dhamma in Motion’. The Middle Way can cause all these forms of knowl- edge to arise. Realization is penetrative knowledge that’s very subtle and sharp. Self-awakening is even more subtle and sharp than penetrative knowledge.
They all constitute the path leading to Nibbana. All of these things without exception come from the Middle Way. They do not lie beyond the range of the Middle Way at all.
What does the word “middle” mean? Are middleness as it is in reality and middleness we study, memorize and speculate on really so different? Yes, very different. I’ll give you an example. Suppose there are two soldiers, both of whom have studied the full course of military science. One of them has never been in the battle lines, while the other has had a lot of experience on the battlefield, to the point where he just barely escaped with his life. Which of the two can speak more accurately and fluently about the reality of fighting in a war? We have to agree without hesitation that the soldier who has been in battle can speak of every facet in line with the events he has seen and encountered, to the extent that he was able to come out alive. If he were stupid, he would have died. He had to have been intelligent in order to survive.
So the Middle Way: How is it “middle”? We’ve been taught that following the Middle Way means being neither too lax nor too extreme. So how do we make sure that our practice is not too lax or too extreme, so that it’s in line with the principle of middleness aimed at by the genuine Dhamma? Perhaps after we sit in meditation for a while, we become afraid that we’ll ache, or faint, or die, or our body will be crippled or we’ll go crazy. So we tell ourselves, “Our practice is too extreme.” Understand? If we think of making a donation, we say, “No. That’d be a waste. We’d do better to use it for this or that.” So what is this? Do you understand whose middleness this is? If we’re going to follow the way of the Dhamma, we say it’s too extreme, but if we’re going to follow the way of defilement, we’re ready for anything, without a thought for middleness at all. So whose middleness is this? It’s just the middleness of the defilements, because the defilements have their middleness too.
When some people do good actions because they desire to go to heaven or desire to attain Nibbana, they worry that this desire is a form of craving. But when they want to go to hell in this very life, they don’t worry about whether it’s craving or not. They don’t even think about it. When they go into a bar: Is this craving? They don’t stop to think about it. When they drink liquor or fool around with the ways to deprivation: Is this the Middle Way or not? Is this crav- ing? Is this defilement or not? They don’t bother to think. But when they think of turning to the realm of Dhamma, then their desires become too extreme. Everything becomes too extreme. What is this? Doesn’t the thought ever occur to us that these are the opinions of the defilements dragging us along?
The defilements dress things up just fine. Their real middleness is in the middle of the pillow, the middle of the sleeping mat. As soon as we do a little walking meditation and think Buddho, Dhammo, Sangho, it’s as if we’re be- ing taken to our death, as if we’re tied to a leash like a monkey squirming and jumping about until we let go of the Buddho that will lead us to safety. Whether we’re going to give alms, observe the precepts or practice meditation, we’re afraid that we’ll faint and die from the exertion. The defilements are putting up obstacles and blocking our way at every step. We don’t realize what the middleness of the defilements is like, because it’s been lulling us to sleep all along.
Just now I mentioned the two soldiers who had studied military science, one of whom had gone into battle while the other one hadn’t. We can compare this to studying the texts. Those who have gone into battle – who have had ex- perience dealing with defilements by fighting against them – are the ones who can describe the Middle Way correctly and accurately. If you simply study and memorize… Here I’m not belittling study. Study all you can. Memorize all you can. I’m not criticizing memorization. But if you simply memorize the names of the defilements – even if you memorize their entire ancestry – it doesn’t mean a thing if you aren’t intent on the practice. If you don’t practice, it’s just like memorizing the names of different criminals. How this or that gang of crimi- nals operates, how it makes its money, what it likes to do, what the members’ names are: We can memorize these things. We can even memorize their family tree, but if we don’t get into action and deal with them, those criminals whose names we can remember will keep on harming the world. So merely memoriz- ing names doesn’t serve any useful purpose. We have to get into action and lay down a strategy. What kind of places do those criminals usually rob? What are their preferred targets? We then take our strategy and put it into practice, lying in wait for them at this place and that, until we can catch them. Society can then live in peace. This is the realm of the practice.
The same holds true with mental defilements and their outflows. We have to practice in order to deal with them. Once we know their ways, we put that knowledge into practice. What is it like to give alms? We know because we’ve already given. What is it like to observe the precepts? We’ve already observed them. What is it like to meditate? We’ve already done it. This is called practice. It’s not that we simply memorize that giving alms has results like that, observ- ing the precepts has results like this, meditation has results like that, heaven is like this, Nibbana is like that. If we simply repeat these things by rote, without being interested in the practice, we won’t get to go there, we won’t achieve any of the results.
So focus on the practice of fighting the defilements. The defilements have been the enemies of the Dhamma from time immemorial. The Buddha taught that the defilements are the enemies of the Dhamma. Where do they lie? Right here – in the human heart. Where does the Dhamma lie? In the human heart as well. This is why it’s important for human beings to counteract their defile- ments. In fighting the defilements, we will have to suffer some pain and discom- fort as a matter of course. Whatever weapons they use, whatever their mode of attack, whatever their tactics, the Dhamma has to stay focused on its attack. The techniques used in eliminating the defilements, such as sidestepping, jab- bing, punching and charging, all have to be in line with the principles of the Dhamma – such as Right Views and Right Attitudes – which circle round and round the enemy. Practicing in this way, we are able to gradually subdue the defilements. This is what is really meant by the Middle Way.
So, go ahead and desire. Desire to gain release from suffering. Desire to gain merit. Desire to go to heaven. Desire to go to Nibbana. Go ahead and desire these results as much as you like, because they’re all part of the path. It’s not true that all desire is craving. If we don’t allow any desires because we think that all desire is craving, then it’s as if we were already dead. Nothing is accom- plished in life without desire. That’s not what it means to eliminate defilements and craving. Such a person is nothing special, nothing special at he’s a dead person. A person who isn’t dead has to want this and that – just be careful that you don’t go wanting in the wrong direction, that’s all. If you want in the wrong direction, it means craving and defilement. If you want in the right direction, it’s the path, so make sure you understand this!
The stronger our desire, the more resolute our persistence will be. Desire and determination are part of the path, the way to gain release from suffering. When our desire to go to heaven, to attain Nibbana or to gain release from suf- fering is strong, making us brave in the fight, then our persistence, our stamina and our fighting spirit are pulled together into a single strength by our intention to attain Nibbana and be released from suffering. These factors keep working constantly with no concern for the time of the day, the month or the year. They simply keep battling all the time.
When the desire gets that strong, meditators must be resolute! No matter how many defilements there are, they’ll be made to succumb. We can’t afford to retreat. We must remain doggedly determined to destroy the defilements. If they don’t collapse first, then we’re prepared to retreat if we’re no match for them. But the word “surrender” does not exist in the heart. If they kick us out of the ring, we climb right back in to fight again. If they kick us out again, we climb back in again and keep on fighting. After this happens many times, we can start kicking the defilements out of the ring instead. Each time we are kicked and hit, we learn a lesson. Whenever we lose to the defilements, we regroup and counterpunch, using their own tactics to counteract them. Eventu- ally, we’ll be able to fend them off.
As the defilements gradually become weaker, matters of Dhamma – mind- fulness, samadhi, wisdom and persistence – become stronger and stronger. This is when the defilements have to cower at our feet, because they’re no match for the Dhamma. Before, we were the only ones cowering. When we cowered, the defilements beat up on us. Lying down, we’d cry and moan. Sitting, we’d moan. Standing, we’d feel longing. Walking, we’d feel longing and hunger. Wherever we’d go, there would be nothing but love, hate and anger filling the heart. There’d be nothing but defilements stomping all over us. But once those
things are struck down by mindfulness, wisdom, conviction and persistence, they no longer arise no matter where we go – because the defilements are the ones cowering. As they keep on cowering, we continue probing for them with- out letup. When we find one, we kill it. When we find another one, we kill it; until the defilements are completely eradicated, with nothing left to disturb the heart.
After that, when we talk about defilements, no matter what kind, we can talk with assurance. Whatever tricks and tactics we’ve employed to shed the de- filements, we can describe them without hesitation. The purity of the heart that has no more defilements ruining it as before, we can describe with certainty. This is like the person who has gone into battle and can speak about the experi- ence without hesitation. It’s not the same as when we simply memorize. If we simply memorize, we can speak only in line with the texts. We can’t elaborate the least little bit. We don’t know how.
But a person who has gone into battle knows all the ins and outs – not merely the military science of how to do things in battle. He understands the situation from every angle and can navigate every circumstance skillfully, fo- cusing on what actions are needed to reach safety or to gain victory. A fighter uses whatever means is necessary. It’s the same with us when we fight the defilements. Whatever tactics are needed to win, the Buddha has provided all the necessary weapons of Dhamma for us to activate with our own mindful- ness and wisdom. True practitioners never run out of rope, you know. When we really come to the end of our rope, then mindfulness and wisdom produce ways for us to help ourselves so that we can continue to bash the defilements to bits, until no more are left. From that point on, wherever the defilements bring in their armies, in whatever form, we know them all – because they’ve been entirely eliminated from our hearts.
This is the practice of the Middle Way. When the defilements come charg- ing in, the Middle Way goes charging out to meet them. If they bring in a big army, the Middle Way fights them off with a big army. If they’re hard-hitting, we’re hard-hitting. If they’re daredevils, we’re daredevils. This is what’s meant by the Middle Way: the appropriate way for defeating the army of the enemy. If their army is large while ours is small and our efforts few, it just won’t work. We’re bound to lose. However large their army and however many their weap- ons, our army must be larger and our weapons superior. Only then will we win. This is known as the army of Dhamma. However large the defiling army may be, mindfulness, wisdom, conviction and persistence have to charge in and treat them with a heavy hand. Finally, the defilements will be laid out cold, and there’ll be no need to chant a funeral service for them. We will have finally gained the superlative Dhamma.
The Dhamma is sanditthiko – directly visible. The teachings of the Buddha are an open market of the paths, the fruitions and Nibbana, which are never out of date – unless we ourselves are out of date. Only then will we let the defile- ments fool us into thinking that the Dhamma is out of date; that people who enter monasteries and practice the Dhamma are old-fashioned and out of date; that the teachings of the religion have no paths or fruitions; that the paths, the fruitions and Nibbana no longer exist; that no matter how much you practice, you’ll just wear yourself out in vain. These attitudes are nothing but the defile- ments deceiving us – and we believe everything they tell us, keeping us con- tinually bankrupt without even a scrap of goodness to our name.
For that reason, we must be resolute in our desire to see the truth. It’s there in the heart of every person. The Buddha did not lay any exclusive claims to it. All that’s needed is that we practice. Don’t doubt the truth of the paths, the frui- tions and Nibbana. When have the defilements ever been out of date? They’re fashionable in our hearts at all times. Why are they never accused of being old- fashioned? We never even give a thought to criticizing them. And how is it that the Dhamma, which is the remedy for the defilements, has seemingly vanished? The Dhamma is a pair with defilements; they exist together in the heart. But the defilements just lull us to sleep so that we won’t use the Dhamma to defeat them. They’re afraid of losing their power – because defilements are intimidated by Dhamma, which is why they deceive us into ignoring its presence. Take this to heart and remember it well.

Let Your Aim Be Nibbana | Ajahn Chah

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Let Your Aim Be Nibbana | Ajahn Chah
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At this time please determine your minds to listen to the dhamma. Today is the traditional day of dhammasavana. It is the appropriate time for us, the host of Buddhists, to study the dhamma in order to increase our mindfulness and wisdom. Giving and receiving the teachings is something we have been doing for a long time. The activities we usually perform on this day, chanting homage to the Buddha, taking moral precepts, meditating and listening to teachings, should be understood as methods and principles for spiritual development. They are not anything more than this.

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Chah Subhaddo and is titled Let Your Aim Be Nibbana. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna.

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.

 


Let Your Aim Be Nibbana
by Ajahn Chah
At this time please determine your minds to listen to the dhamma. Today is the traditional day of dhammasavana. It is the appropriate time for us, the host of Buddhists, to study the dhamma in order to increase our mindfulness and wisdom. Giving and receiving the teachings is something we have been doing for a long time. The activities we usually perform on this day, chanting homage to the Buddha, taking moral precepts, meditating and listening to teachings, should be understood as methods and principles for spiritual development. They are not anything more than this.

When it comes to taking precepts, for example, a monk will proclaim the precepts and the laypeople will vow to undertake them. Don’t misunderstand what is going on. The truth is that morality is not something that can be given. It can’t really be requested or received from someone. We can’t give it to someone else. In our vernacular, we hear people say ‘The venerable monk gave the precepts” and “We received the precepts.” We talk like this here in the countryside, and it has become our habitual way of understanding. If we think like that, that we come to receive precepts from the monks on the lunar observance days, and that if the monks won’t give precepts then we don’t have morality, that is only a tradition of delusion that we have inherited from our ancestors. Thinking in this way means that we give up our own responsibility, not having firm trust and conviction in ourselves. Then it gets passed down to the next generation, and they too come to ‘receive’ precepts from the monks. And the monks come to believe that they are the ones who ‘give’ the precepts to the laity. In fact, morality and precepts are not like that. They are not something to be ‘given’ or ‘received’; but on ceremonial occasions of making merit and the like, we use this as a ritual form according to tradition and employ the terminology.

In truth, morality resides with the intentions of people. If you have the conscious determination to refrain from harmful activities and wrongdoing by way of body and speech, then morality is coming about within you. You should know it within yourself. It is OK to take the vows with another person. You can recollect the precepts by yourself. If you don’t know what they are, then you can request them from someone else. It is not something very complicated or distant. So really, whenever we wish to ‘receive’ morality and dhamma, we have them right then. It is just like the air that surrounds us everywhere. Whenever we breathe, we take it in. All manner of good and evil are like that. If we wish to do good, we can do it anywhere, at any time. We can do it alone, or together with others. Evil is the same. We can do it with a large or small group, in a hidden or open place. It is like that.

These are things that are already in existence. But as to morality, it is something that we should consider normal for all humans to practice. A person who has no morality is no different from an animal. If you decide to live like an animal, then of course there is no good or evil for you, because an animal doesn’t have any knowledge of such things. A cat catches mice, but we don’t say it is doing evil, because it has no concepts or knowledge of good or bad, right or wrong. These beings are outside the circle of human beings. It is the animal realm. The Buddha pointed out that this group is just living according to the animal kind of kamma. Those who understand right and wrong, good and evil, are humans. The Buddha taught his Dhamma for humans. If we people don’t have morality and knowledge of these things, then we are not much different from animals, so it is appropriate that we study and learn about them and make ourselves able. This is taking advantage of the precious accomplishment of human existence and bringing it to fulfillment.

The profound dhamma is the teaching that morality is necessary. Then when there is morality, one should pursue dhamma. Morality means the precepts as to what is forbidden and what is permissible. Dhamma refers to nature and to humans knowing about nature, how things exist according to nature. Nature is something we do not compose. It exists as it is, according to its conditions. A simple example is animals. A certain species, such as peacocks, is born with its various patterns and colors. They were not created like that by humans or modified by humans; they are just born that way, according to nature. This is a little example of how it is in nature.

All things of nature are existing in the world – this is still talking about understanding from a worldly viewpoint. The Buddha taught Dhamma for us to know nature, to let go of it and let it exist according to its conditions. This is talking about the external material world. As to namadhamma, meaning the mind, it can not be left to follow its own conditions. It has to be trained. In the end, we can say that mind is the teacher of body and speech, so it needs to be well trained. Letting it go according to its natural urges just makes one an animal. It has to be instructed and trained. It should come to know nature, but should not merely be left to follow nature.

We are born into this world, and all of us will naturally have the afflictions of desire, anger and delusion. Desire makes us crave after various things and causes the mind to be in a state of imbalance and turmoil. Nature is like that. It will just not do to let the mind go after these impulses of craving. It only leads to heat and distress. It is better to train in dhamma, in truth.

When aversion occurs in us, we want to express anger towards people, and it may get to the point of physically attacking or even killing people. But we don’t just ‘let it go’ according to its nature. We know the nature of what is occurring there. We see it for what it is, and teach the mind about it. This is studying dhamma.

Delusion is the same. When it happens, we are confused about things. If we just leave it as it is, then we remain in ignorance. So the Buddha told us to know nature, to teach nature, to train and adjust nature, to know exactly what nature is.

For example, people are born with physical form and mind. In the beginning these things are born, in the middle they change, and in the end they are extinguished. This is ordinary; this is their nature. We cannot do much to alter these facts. We train our minds as we can, and when the time comes we have to let go of it all. It is beyond the ability of humans to change this or get beyond it. The dhamma that the Buddha taught is something to be applied while we are here, for making actions, words and thoughts correct and proper. It means he was teaching the minds of people so that they would not be deluded in regard to nature, to conventional reality and supposition. The Teacher instructed us to see the world. His dhamma was a teaching that is above and beyond the world. We are in the world. We were born into this world; he taught us to transcend the world, not being prisoner to worldy ways and habits.

It is like a diamond that falls into a muddy pit. No matter how much dirt and filth covers it, that does not destroy the radiance, the hues, and the worth of it. Even though the mud is stuck to it, the diamond does not lose anything, but is just as it originally was. There are two separate things.

So the Buddha taught to be above the world, which means knowing the world clearly. By ‘the world’ he did not mean so much the earth and sky and elements, but rather to the mind, the wheel of samsara within the hearts of people. He meant this wheel, this world. This is the world that the Buddha knew clearly; when we talk about knowing the world clearly, we are talking about these things. If it were otherwise, then the Buddha would have had to be flying everywhere to ‘know the world clearly.’ It is not like that. It is a single point. All dhammas come down to one single point. Like people, which means men and women. If we observe one man and one woman, we know the nature of all people in the universe. They are not that different.

Or learning about heat. If we just know this one point, the quality of being hot, then it does not matter what the source or cause of the heat is, the condition of ‘hot’ is such. Knowing this one point, then wherever there may be hotness in the universe, it is like this. So the Buddha knew a single point, and his knowledge encompassed the world. Knowing coldness to be a certain way, when he encountered coldness anywhere in the world, he already knew it. He taught a single point, for beings living in the world to know the world, to know the nature of the world…. Just like knowing people…. Knowing men and women, knowing the manner of existence of beings in the world. His knowledge was such. Knowing one point, he knew all things.

The dhamma which the Teacher expounded was for going beyond suffering. What is this ‘going beyond suffering’ all about? What should we do to ‘escape from suffering’? It is necessary for us to do some study; we need to come and study the thinking and feeling in our hearts. Just that. It is something we are presently unable to change. If we can change it, we can be free of all suffering and unsatisfactoriness in life, just by changing this one point, our habitual world view, our way of thinking and feeling. If we come to have a new sense of things, a new understanding, then we transcend the old perceptions and understanding.

The authentic dhamma of the Buddha is not something pointing far away. It teaches self. It teaches about atta, self, and that things are not really self. That is all. All the teachings that the Buddha gave were pointing out that ‘this is not a self, this does not belong to a self, there is no such thing as ourselves or others.’ Here, when we contact this, we can’t really read it, we don’t ‘translate’ the Dhamma correctly. We still think ‘this is me, this is mine.’ We attach to things and invest them with meaning. When we do this, we can’t yet disentangle from them; the involvement deepens and the mess gets worse and worse. If we know that there is no self, that body and mind are really anatta, as the Buddha taught, then when we keep on investigating, eventually we will come to realization of the actual condition of selflessness. We will genuinely realize that there is no self or other. Pleasure is merely pleasure. Feeling is merely feeling. Memory is merely memory. Thinking is merely thinking. They are all things which are ‘merely’ that. Happiness is merely happiness; suffering is merely suffering. Good is merely good, evil is merely evil. Everything exists ‘merely’ thus. There is no real happiness or real suffering. There are just the merely existing conditions. Merely happy, merely suffering, merely hot, merely cold, merely a being or a person. You should keep looking to see that things are only so much. Only earth, only water, only fire, only air. We should keep on ‘reading’ these things and investigating this point. Eventually our perception will change; we will have a different feeling about things. The tight conviction that there is self and things belonging to self will gradually come undone. When this sense of things is removed, then the opposite perception will keep increasing steadily.

When the realization of anatta comes to full measure, then we will be able to relate to the things of this world, to our most cherished possessions and involvements, to friends and relations, to wealth, accomplishments and status, just the same as we do to our clothes. When shirts and pants are new, we wear them; they get dirty and we wash them; after some time they are worn out and we discard them. There is nothing out of the ordinary there; we are constantly getting rid of the old things and starting to use new garments.

So we will have the exact same feeling about our existence in this world. We will not cry or moan over things. We will not be tormented or burdened by them. They remain the same things as they were before, but our feeling and understanding of them has changed. Now our knowledge will be exalted and we will see truth. We will have attained supreme vision and authentic knowledge of that Dhamma which we ought to know. The Buddha taught the Dhamma that we ought to know and to see. Where is the dhamma that we ought to know and see? It is right here within us, this body and mind. We have it already; we should come to know and see it.

For example, all of us have been born into this human realm. Whatever we gained by that we are going to lose. We have seen people born and seen them die. We just see this happening, but don’t really see clearly. When there is a birth, we rejoice over it; when someone dies, we cry for them. There is no end. It goes on in this way, and there is no end to our foolishness. Seeing birth, we are foolhardy; seeing death, we are foolhardy. There is only this unending foolishness. Let’s take a look at all this. These things are natural occurrences. Contemplate the dhamma here, the dhamma we should know and see. This dhamma is existing right now. Make up your minds about this. Exert restraint and self-control. Now we are amidst the things of this life. We shouldn’t have fears of death. We should fear the lower realms. Don’t fear dying; rather, be afraid of falling into hell. You should be afraid of doing wrong while you still have life. These are old things we are dealing with, not new things. Some people are alive but don’t know themselves at all. They think, what’s the big deal about what I do now, I can’t know what is going to happen when I die. They don’t think about the new seeds they are creating for the future. They only see the old fruit. They fixate on present experience, not realizing that if there is fruit, it must have come from a seed, and that within the fruit we have now are the seeds of future fruit. These seeds are just waiting to be planted. Actions born of ignorance continue the chain in this way, but when you are eating the fruit, you don’t think about all the implications.

Wherever the mind has a lot of attachment, just there will we experience intense suffering, intense grief, intense difficulty. The place we experience the most problems is the place we have the most attraction, longing and concern. Please try to resolve this. Now, while you still have life and breath, keep on looking at it and reading it, until you are able to ‘translate’ it and solve the problem.

Whatever we are experiencing as part of our lives now, one day we will be parted from it. So don’t just pass the time. Practice spiritual cultivation. Take this parting, this separation and loss, as your object of contemplation right now, in the present, until you are clever and skilled in it, until you can see that it is ordinary and natural. When there is anxiety and regret over it, have the wisdom to recognize the limits of this anxiety and regret, knowing what they are according to the truth. If you can consider things in this way, then wisdom will arise. But people generally do not want to investigate. Whenever suffering occurs, wisdom can arise there, if we investigate.

Wherever pleasant or unpleasant experience happens, wisdom can arise there. If we know happiness and suffering for what they really are, then we know the Dhamma. If we know the Dhamma, we know the world clearly; if we know the world clearly, we know the Dhamma.

Actually, for most of us, if something is displeasing, we don’t really want to know about it. We get caught up in the aversion to it. If we dislike someone, we don’t want to look at their face or get anywhere near them. This is the mark of a foolish, unskillful person; this is not the way of a good person. If we like someone, then of course we want to be close to them, we make every effort to be with them, taking delight in their company. This is foolishness, also. They are actually the same, like the palm and back of the hand. When we turn the hand up and see the palm, the back of the hand is hidden from sight. When we turn it over, then the palm is not seen. Pleasure hides pain, and pain hides pleasure from our sight. Wrong covers up right, right covers wrong. Just looking at one side, our knowledge is not complete.

Let’s do things completely, while we still have life. Keep on looking at things, separating truth from falsehood, noting how things really are, getting to the end of it, reaching peace. When the time comes, we will be able to cut through and let go completely. Now we have to firmly attempt to separate things, keep trying to cut through.

The Buddha taught about hair, nails, skin and teeth. He taught us to separate here. A person who does not know about separating only knows about holding them to himself. Now while we have not yet parted from these things, we should be skillful in meditating on them. We have not yet left this world, so we should be careful. We should contemplate a lot, make copious charitable offerings, recite the scriptures a lot, cultivate a lot: cultivate impermanence, cultivate unsatisfactoriness, cultivate selflessness. Even if the mind does not want to listen, we should keep on breaking things up like this and come to know in the present. This can most definitely be done, people. One can realize knowledge that transcends the world. We are stuck in the world. This is a way to ‘destroy’ the world, through contemplating and seeing beyond the world so that we can transcend the world in our being. Even while we are living in this world, our view can be above the world.

In a worldly existence, one creates both good and evil. Now we try to practice virtue and give up evil. When good results come, then you should not be ‘under’ that good, but be able to transcend it. If you do not transcend it, then you become a slave to virtue and to your concepts of what is good. It puts you in difficulty, and there will not be an end to your tears. It does not matter how much good you have practiced, if you are attached to it, then you are still not free, and there will be no end to tears. But one who transcends good as well as evil has no more tears to shed. They have dried up. There can be an end. We should learn to use virtue, not to be used by virtue.

To put the teaching of the Buddha in a nutshell, the point is to transform one’s view. It is possible to change it. It only requires looking at things, and then it happens. Having been born, we will experience aging, illness, death and separation. These things are right here. We don’t need to look up at the sky or down at the earth. The dhamma that we need to see and to know can be seen right here within us, every moment of every day. When there is a birth, we are filled with joy. When there is a death, we grieve. That’s how we spend our lives. These are the things we need to know about, but we still have not really looked into them and seen the truth. We are stuck deep in this ignorance. We ask, when will we get the chance to see the Dhamma; but it is right here to be seen in the present..

This is the Dhamma we should learn about and see. This is what the Buddha taught about. He did not teach about gods and demons and nagas, protective deities, jealous demigods, nature spirits and the like. He taught the things that one should know and see. These are truths that we really should be able to realize. External phenomena are like this, exhibiting the three characteristics. Internal phenomena, i.e., this body, are like this, too. The truth can be seen in the hair, nails, skin and teeth. Previously they flourished. Now they are diminished. The hair thins and becomes gray. It is like this. Do you see? Or will you say it is something you can’t see? You certainly should be able to see with a little investigation.

If we really take an interest in all of this and contemplate seriously, we can gain genuine knowledge. If this were something that could not be done, the Buddha would not have bothered to talk about it. How many tens and hundreds of thousands of his followers have come to realization? If one is really keen on looking at things, one can come to know. The Dhamma is like that.

We are living in this world. The Buddha wanted us to know the world. Living in the world, we gain our knowledge from the world. The Buddha is said to be Lokavidu, one who knows the world clearly. It means living in the world but not being stuck in the ways of the world; living among attraction and aversion, but not stuck in attraction and aversion. This can be spoken about and explained in ordinary language. This is how the Buddha taught.

Normally we speak in terms of atta, self, talking about me and mine, you and yours, but the mind can remain uninterruptedly in the realization of anatta, selflessness. Think about it. When we talk to children, we speak in one way; when dealing with adults, we speak in another way. If we use words appropriate to children to speak with adults, or use adults’ words to speak with children, it won’t work out. In the proper use of conventions, we have to know when we are talking to children. It can be appropriate to talk about me and mine, you and yours, and so forth, but inwardly the mind is Dhamma, dwelling in realization of anatta. You should have this kind of foundation.

So the Buddha said that you should take the Dhamma as your foundation, your basis. Living and practicing in the world, will you take yourself, your ideas, desires and opinions, as a basis? That is not right. The Dhamma should be your standard. If you take yourself as the standard, you become self-absorbed. If you take someone else as your standard, you are merely infatuated with that person. Being enthralled with ourselves or with another person is not the way of Dhamma. The Dhamma does not incline to any person or follow personalities. It follows the truth. It does not simply accord with the likes and dislikes of people; such habitual reactions have nothing to do with the truth of things.

If we really consider all of this and investigate thoroughly to know the truth, then we will enter the correct path. Our way of living will become correct. Thinking will be correct. Our actions and speech will be correct. So we really should look into all of this. Why is it that we have suffering? Because of lack of knowledge, not knowing where things begin and end, not understanding the causes; this is ignorance. When there is this ignorance, then various desires arise, and, driven by them, we create the causes of suffering. Then the result must be suffering. When you gather firewood and light a match to it, and then you expect not to have any heat, what are your chances? You are creating a fire, aren’t you? This is origination itself.

If you understand these things, then morality will be born here. Dhamma will be born here. So prepare yourselves. The Buddha advised us to prepare ourselves. You needn’t have too many concerns or anxieties about things. Just look here. Look at the place without desires, the place without danger. Nibbana paccayo hotu – the Buddha taught, let it be a cause for Nibbana. If it will be a cause for realization of Nibbana, then it means looking at the place where things are empty, where things are done with, where they reach their end, where they are exhausted. Look at the place where there are no more causes, where there is no more self or other, me or mine. This looking becomes a cause or condition, a condition for attaining Nibbana. Then practicing generosity becomes a cause for realizing Nibbana. Practicing morality becomes a cause for realizing Nibbana. Listening to the teachings becomes a cause for realizing Nibbana. Thus we can dedicate all our Dhamma activities to become causes for Nibbana. But we are not looking towards Nibbana. We are looking at self and other and attachment and grasping without end. This does not become a cause for Nibbana.

When we deal with others and they talk about self, about me and mine, about what is ours, then we immediately agree with this viewpoint. We immediately think, “Yeah, that’s right!” But it’s not right. Even if the mind is saying, right, right, we have to exert control over it. It’s the same as a child who is afraid of ghosts. Maybe the parents are afraid, too. But it won’t do for the parents to talk about it; if they do, then the child will feel he has no protection or security. “No, of course Daddy is not afraid. Don’t worry, Daddy is here. There are no ghosts. There’s nothing to worry about.” Well, the father might really be afraid, too. If he starts talking about it, then they will all get so worked up about ghosts that they’ll jump up and run away, father, mother and child, and end up homeless.

This is not being clever. You have to look at things clearly and learn how to deal with them. Even when you feel that deluded appearances are real, you have to tell yourself that they are not. Go against it like this. Teach yourself inwardly. When the mind is experiencing the world in terms of self, saying, ‘it’s true’, you have to be able to tell it, ‘it’s not true’. You should be floating above the water, not be submerged by the floodwaters of worldy habit…. The water is flooding our hearts… if we run after things, do we ever look at what is going on? Will there be anyone ‘watching the house’?

Nibbana paccayam hotu – one need not aim at anything or wish for anything at all. Just aim for Nibbana. All manner of becoming and birth, merit and virtue in the worldly way do not reach there. Making merits and skillful kamma, hoping it will cause us to attain to some better state, we don’t need to be wishing for a lot of things; just aim directly for Nibbana. Wanting sila, wanting tranquility – we just end up in the same old place- it’s not necessary to desire these things – we should just wish for the place of cessation.

It is like this. Throughout all our becoming and birth, all of us are so terribly anxious about so many things. When there is separation, when there is death, we cry and lament. To me, oyyy, I can only think, how utterly foolish this is. What are we crying about? Where do you think people are going anyhow? If they are still bound up in becoming and birth, they are not really going away. When children grow up and move to the big city of Bangkok, they still think of their parents. They won’t be missing someone else’s parents, just their own. When they return, they will go to their parents’ home, not someone else’s. And when they go away again, they will still think about their home here in Ubon. Will they be homesick for some other place? What do you think? So when the breath ends and we die, no matter through how many lifetimes, if the causes for becoming and birth still exist, the consciousness is likely to try and take birth in a place it is familiar with. I think we are just too fearful about all of this. So please don’t go crying about it too much. Think about this. Satte kammam vipassati – kamma drives beings into their various births – they don’t go very far. Cycling back and forth through the round of births, that is all, just changing appearances, appearing with a different face next time, but we don’t know it. Just coming and going, going and returning in the round of samsara, not really going anywhere. Just staying there. Like a mango that is shaken off the tree/ like the snare that does not get the wasps’ nest and falls to the ground: it is not going anywhere. It is just staying there. So the Buddha said, Nibbana paccayam hotu; let your only aim be Nibbana. Strive hard to accomplish this; don’t end up like the mango falling to the ground and going nowhere.

Transform your sense of things like this. If you can change it, you will know great peace. Change, please; come to see and know. These are things one should indeed see and know. If you do see and know, then where else do you need to go? Morality will come to be. Dhamma will come to be. It is nothing far away; please investigate this.

When you transform your view, then you will realize that it is like watching leaves fall from the trees. When they get old and dry, they fall from the tree. And when the season comes, they begin to appear again. Would anyone cry when leaves fall or laugh when they grow? If you did, you would be insane, wouldn’t you? It is just this much. If we can see things in this way, we will be OK. We will know that is just the natural order of things. It doesn’t matter how many births we undergo, it will always be like this. When one studies dhamma, gains clear knowledge, and undergoes a change of world-view like this, one will realize peace and be free of bewilderment about the phenomena of this life.

But the important point, really, is that we have life now, in the present. We are experiencing the results of past deeds right now. When beings are born into the world, that is the results of past actions appearing. Whatever happiness or suffering beings have in the present are the fruits of what they have done previously. It is born of the past and experienced in the present. Then this present experience becomes the basis for the future, as we create further causes under its influence, and the future experience becomes the result. The movement from one birth to the next also happens in this way. You should understand this.

Listening to the dhamma should resolve your doubts. It should clarify your view of things and alter your way of living. When doubts are resolved, suffering can end. You stop creating desires and mental afflictions. Then, whatever you experience, if something is displeasing to you, you will not suffer over it, because you understand its changeability. If something is pleasing to you, you will not get carried away and become intoxicated by it, because you know the way to let go of things appropriately. You maintain a balanced perspective, because you understand impermanence and know how to resolve things according to Dhamma. You know that good and bad conditions are always changing. Knowing internal phenomena, you understand external phenomena. Not attached to the external, you are not attached to the internal. Observing things within yourself or outside of yourself, it is all completely the same.

In this way, we can dwell in a natural state, which is peace and tranquility. If we are criticized, we remain undisturbed. If we are praised, we are undisturbed. Let things be in this way, not being influenced by others. This is freedom. Knowing the two extremes for what they are, one can experience well-being. One does not stop at either side. This is genuine happiness and peace, transcending all things of the world. One transcends all good and evil. Above cause and effect, beyond birth and death. Born into this world, one can transcend the world. Beyond the world, knowing the world – this is the aim of the Buddha’s teaching. He did not aim for people to suffer. He desired people to attain to peace, to know the truth of things and realize wisdom. This is dhamma, knowing the nature of things. Whatever exists in the world is nature. There is no need to be in confusion about it. Wherever you are, the same laws apply.

The most important point is that while we have life, we should train the mind to be even in regard to things. We should be able to share wealth and possessions. When the time comes, we should give a portion to those in need, just as if we were giving things to our own children. Sharing things like this, we will feel happy; and if we can give away all our wealth, then whenever our breath may stop, there will be no attachment or anxiety because everything is gone. The Buddha taught to ‘die before you die’, to be finished with things before they are finished. Then you can be at ease. Let things break before they are broken, let them finish before they are finished. This is the Buddha’s intention in teaching the Dhamma. Even if you listen to teachings for a hundred or a thousand eons, if you do not understand these points, you won’t be able to undo your suffering and you will not find peace. You will not see the Dhamma. But understanding these things according to the Buddha’s intention and being able to resolve things is called seeing the Dhamma. This view of things can make an end of suffering. It can relieve all heat and distress. Whoever strives sincerely and is diligent in practice, who can endure, who trains and develops themselves to the full measure, those persons will attain to peace and cessation. Wherever they stay, they will have no suffering. Whether they are young or old, they will be free of suffering. Whatever their situation, whatever work they have to perform, they will have no suffering, because their minds have reached the place where suffering is exhausted, where there is peace. It is like this. It is a matter of nature.

The Buddha thus said to change one’s perceptions, and there will be the Dhamma. When the mind is in harmony with Dhamma, then Dhamma enters the heart. The mind and the Dhamma become the indistinguishable. This is something to be realized by those who practice, the changing of one’s view and experience of things. The entire Dhamma is paccatam. It can not be given by anyone; that is an impossibility. If we hold it to be difficult, then it will be something difficult. If we take it to be easy, then it is easy. Whoever contemplates it and sees the one point does not have to know a lot of things. Seeing the one point, seeing birth and death, the arising and passing away of phenomena according to nature, one will know all things. This is a matter of the truth.

This is the way of the Buddha. The Buddha gave his teachings out of the wish to benefit all beings. He wished for us to go beyond suffering and to attain peace. It is not that we have to die first in order to transcend suffering… We shouldn’t think that we will attain this after death… we can go beyond suffering here and now, in the present. We transcend within our perception of things, in this very life, through the view that arises in our minds. Then, sitting, we are happy; lying down, we are happy; wherever we are, we are have happiness. We become without fault, experiencing no ill results, living in a state of freedom. The mind is clear, bright, and tranquil. There is no more darkness or defilement. That is someone who has reached the supreme happiness of the Buddha’s way. Please investigate this for yourselves. All of you lay followers, please contemplate this to gain understanding and ability. If you have suffering, then practice to alleviate your suffering. If it is great, make it little, and if it is little, make an end of it. Everyone has to do this for themselves, so please make an effort to consider these words. May you prosper and develop.

Ignorance and Emptiness | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Ignorance and Emptiness | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled Ignorance and Emptiness. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Ajahn Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna.

Ignorance and Emptiness by Ajahn Maha Boowa is a Forest Dhamma Publication / March 2011.

All commercial rights reserved. © 2011 Bhikkhu Dick Silaratano.

Dhamma should not be sold like goods in the market place. Permission to reproduce this publication in any way for free distribution, as a gift of Dhamma, is hereby granted and no further permission need be obtained. Reproduction in any way for commercial gain is strictly prohibited.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Luangta Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.


Ignorance and Emptiness
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
I’d like to take the opportunity to tell you about my own ignorance and doubts, with the realization that we all come from the land of ignorance and doubt in as much as our parents and their ancestors were born with defilements that led them to ignorance as well. There’s probably not one of us here who slipped through to be born in the land of intelligence and freedom from doubt. This being the case, we must all be subject to doubts. Each of us, before starting the practice and in the beginning stages of the practice, is sure to suffer from ig- norance and doubt, as these are the factors that lead to the states of becoming and birth into which all living beings are born. When we lay the groundwork for practice, we don’t have enough starting capital for intelligence to take the lead in every situation, so ignorance is sure to find an opening to take the lead. If we have never trained our intelligence to show us the way, the ignorance that holds the upper hand in the heart is sure to drag us in the wrong direction as a matter of course.
In the beginning of my own training, I felt doubts about whether the teachings of the Buddha – both the practices to be followed and the results to be obtained – were as complete as he said they were. This was an uncertainty that ran deep in my heart during the period in which I was debating whether or not to practice for the really high levels of Dhamma – or, to put it succinctly, for the sake of Nibbana. Before I considered practicing for the sake of Nibbana, these doubts hardly ever occurred to me, probably because I hadn’t yet aimed my compass in that direction. But after I ordained and studied the Dhamma – and especially the life of the Buddha, which was the story of his great renunciation leading to his attainment of the paths, the fruitions and Nibbana; and then the lives of the Noble Disciples who, having heard the Dhamma from the Buddha, went off to practice in various places until they too gained Enlightenment, becoming witnesses to the truth of the Buddha and his teachings – when I had studied to this point, I felt a sense of faith and conviction and wanted to train myself to be like them.
But how was I to follow the training that would make me like them? Would the training – in other words, the practice that would lead the heart to awaken to the higher levels of Dhamma like the Buddha and his disciples – still produce the same sort of results, or would it be fruitless and merely lead to pointless hardship for those who practiced it? Would it still give the full results in line with the Buddha’s well-taught teachings? That was my primary doubt. But as for believing in the Buddha’s Enlightenment and that of his disciples, of this I was fully convinced, as far as an ordinary person can be. The thing that formed a stumbling block for me in the beginning stages was doubt as to whether or not the path of practice I would take, following the Buddha and his disciples, would lead me to the same point they had reached. Perhaps it was now over- grown with brambles and thorns. Had it changed into something other than the Dhamma that leads away from suffering, even though the Buddha and his disciples had all followed this very same path to the land of peace and security? This was my doubt concerning causes in the practice. As for the results of the practice, I wondered whether the paths, the fruitions and Nibbana still existed as they had in the time of the Buddha. Although they ran deep in my heart, I couldn’t tell these doubts to anyone else because I felt no one could resolve them for me and dispel them from my heart.
That is why I had my hopes constantly set on meeting Venerable Ajaan Mun. Even though I had never met him before, I had heard that he was a monk of great distinction. By and large, the people who told me about him never spoke of him in terms of the ordinary levels of noble attainments. They all spoke of his Arahantship. This convinced me that when I finished my studies in line with a vow I had made, I’d have to make the effort to find him and live under his guidance so as to cut away the doubts running deep in my heart at that time.
I had promised myself that I would complete the third grade of Pali stud- ies first. As soon as I passed the third-level Pali exams, I set out from Bangkok to honor that vow. I got as far as Nakhon Ratchasima, where I spent the rains retreat in Cakkaraad District. I started practicing for samadhi concentration and was amazed at how my mind developed stillness and calm step by step. I could clearly see my heart settle down in peace. Soon after that, the senior monk who was my Pali teacher asked me to return to Bangkok to continue my studies. He even had the kindness to come after me, before continuing to travel further out into the provinces. On the way back, he was going to have me accompany him to Bangkok. I really felt in a bind, so I headed for Udon Thani in order to find Venerable Ajaan Mun. Along the way, the progress I had made in samadhi prac- tice disappeared. I stopped at my home village of Baan Taad to make a simple umbrella-tent, and that was my undoing. I hadn’t even spent a full month at Baan Taad when I began to feel that my mind wasn’t settling down in samadhi as snugly as it had before. Sometimes I could get it to settle down, sometimes not. Seeing that things didn’t look promising and that I could only lose by stay- ing on, I quickly left.
In coming from Nakhon Ratchasima to Udon Thani, my purpose had been to catch up with Venerable Ajaan Mun, who had spent the rains at Wat Noan Nives, Udon Thani. I didn’t reach him in time though, because he had been invited to Sakon Nakhon before my arrival, so I went on to stay at Wat Thung Sawaang in Nong Khai for a little more than three months. In May of that year, 1942, I left Nong Khai for the town of Sakon Nakhon, and from there went on to the monastery where Venerable Ajaan Mun was staying at Baan Khoak, Tong Khoam Township, Muang District, Sakon Nakhon Province. When I reached the monastery, I found him doing walking meditation in the late evening dusk. “Who’s that?” he asked, so I told him who I was. He then left his meditation path and went to the meeting hall – he was staying in a room there in the meet- ing hall – and conversed with me, showing a great deal of kindness and com- passion for the incredibly ignorant person who had come to seek him out. He gave me a sermon that first evening, the gist of which I’ll relate to you as far as I can remember it. It’s a message that remains close to my heart to this day.
“You’ve already studied a good deal,” he told me, “at least enough to earn the title of Maha. Now I’m going to tell you something that I want you take and consider. Don’t imagine that I underrate the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha, but at present no matter how much of the Dhamma you’ve studied, it will serve no purpose other than simply being an obstacle to your meditation, because you won’t be able to resist dwelling on it and using it to take the measure of things when you’re trying to calm your heart. So for the sake of developing stillness in your heart, I want you to put away the Dhamma you’ve studied for the time be- ing. When the time comes for it to benefit you, it will all come streaming in to blend perfectly with your practice. At the same time, it will serve as a standard to which you should make the heart conform. But for the time being, I don’t want you to concern yourself with the Dhamma you’ve studied at all. When you make the mind still or investigate with wisdom, I want you first to restrict yourself to the sphere of the body. All of the Dhamma in the texts points to the body and the mind, but the mind doesn’t yet have any firm evidence and so it can’t take the Dhamma learned from the texts and put it to good use. Your mind is fixated on theory in a manner that doesn’t truly reflect the way of the Lord Buddha. The Dhamma will be compared with the theory you’ve memorized, leading you to speculate to the point where you become a person with no solid foundation. I want you to take what I’ve said and think it over. If you set your mind on the practice without retreating, the day will come when these words of mine will impress themselves on your heart.”
I felt an immediate sense of faith and conviction in Venerable Ajaan Mun as soon as I saw him face to face that night, both because of my conviction in the Dhamma he was so kind to teach me and because of the assistance he gave in letting me stay under his guidance. When staying with him, I felt a sense of contentment hard to describe – but also with a stupidity on my own part hard to describe as well. He himself was very kind, helping me with Dhamma every time I went to see him.
When I first went to stay with Venerable Ajaan Mun, my meditation prac- tice was constantly up and down. For a long time my heart was reluctant to settle down firmly. The first rains I spent with him was my ninth rains, inasmuch as I had spent my first seven rains in study, and one rains in Nakhon Ratchasima after starting to practice. During that first rains with Venerable Ajaan Mun, there was nothing but progress and decline in my samadhi. After the rains, I went to stay on a mountain for more than two months and then returned to him with my mind still up and down in the same way. I couldn’t figure out why it kept regressing even though I was intent on practicing to the full extent of my abil- ity. Some nights, I was unable to sleep all night long out of fear that my mental state would deteriorate, and yet it would still manage to do so. Especially when the mind was beginning to settle down in stillness, I’d accelerate my efforts even more, out of fear that it would regress as it had before – and even then it would regress on me. After a while it would progress again only to decline again. When it was up, it would stay at that level for only three days and then slip back right before my eyes. This disturbed me and made me wonder: What caused it to slip back? Was it because I had let go of my meditation object? Perhaps my mindfulness had lapsed at that point. So I made a note of this and promised myself that no matter what, I would have to keep my mind focused on the meditation object at all times. Regardless of where I went and regardless of whether I was in or out of samadhi – even when I was sweeping the monastery compound or doing any of my chores – I would not allow my mind to slip away from Buddho, the word I liked to repeat as my meditation object.
Even when the mind settled down into stillness, as long as I could continue to think of the meditation-word Buddho, I wouldn’t let go of it. If the mind was going to regress in any way, this was where I would know it. Having taken note of this point and made my promise, I started repeating the word Buddho. While I was repeating it, the mind settled down quickly, much more quickly than it had before. It would drop the meditation-word only when it had settled snugly into stillness. At that moment, whether thinking Buddho or not, the awareness of that stillness was in and of itself solidly ‘Buddho’. At the point where the mind formed no thoughts at all, the repetition of Buddho would stop. As soon as the mind made a move to withdraw – in other words, as soon as it rippled slightly – I’d immediately start pumping the meditation-word back in again as a means of keeping the mind in place.
I abandoned my concern for the progress or decline of the mind. No mat- ter what, I wasn’t willing to let go of my meditation-word. I felt no more con- cern for how the mind might fluctuate. I simply forced it to be conscious of Buddho. I became aware of my progress only in terms of the heart that had Buddho in charge. That’s how I would know. That’s the one spot where I’d place my confidence. I wouldn’t have to concern myself with anything else.
As time passed, the mind that had once progressed and regressed ceased to slide back. This was what made me realize that the reason the mind had kept regressing so often was because of a lapse in its meditation-word; mindfulness must have slipped away at that moment for sure. So from that point on, I kept my meditation-word continually in place. No matter where I went or where I stayed, I would not let mindfulness lapse. Even should I be on the verge of death, I would never let mindfulness slip away from Buddho. If the mind was going to regress, this was the only place where I’d try to know it. I wouldn’t concern myself with the matter in any other way. As a result, the mind was able to establish a foundation for itself by focusing exclusively on the meditation- word Buddho.
After that came my second rains retreat with Venerable Ajaan Mun. Before the rains began, my mind felt still and firm in samadhi, with no regression at all. Even then, I refused to let go of my meditation-word. I kept this up until I was able to sit in meditation without changing my posture from early evening until the first light of dawn.
During my second rains with Venerable Ajaan Mun, I considered sitting in meditation from dusk until dawn as more important than any other method in my practice. After that I gradually eased off, as I came to see the body as a tool that could wear out if I used it without any sense of moderation. Still, I found that accelerating my efforts by means of sitting all night until dawn gave more energy to the heart than any other method.
While I was sitting from dusk until dawn, I gained a clear comprehension of the feelings of pain that arise from sitting in meditation for long periods of time, because the pain that arose at that time was strange and exceptional in many ways. The wisdom that I used to investigate so as to contend with the pain kept at its work without flagging, until it was able to understand the nature of every sort of pain in the body – which, after many hours of sitting, became a solid mass of pain. At the same time, wisdom was able to penetrate deeply to know the feelings of the heart. This practice did a great deal to strengthen my mindfulness, my discernment and my courage in meditation. At the same time, it made me bold and confident with regard to the future, in that the pains that would appear at the approach of death would be no different from the pains I was experiencing and investigating in the present. Nothing about the pain of death would be so different or exceptional as to deceive or confuse me at the time of death. This was a further realization. As soon as wisdom had fully com- prehended the pain, the pain disappeared instantly, and the mind settled down into total stillness.
When the mind settles down into total stillness, you could say that the mind is empty, but it’s only empty in samadhi. When the mind withdraws from samadhi, the emptiness disappears. From there, the mind resumes its investiga- tions and continues with them until it gains expertise in the proper use of sa- madhi. Once samadhi is strong, wisdom steps up its investigation of the various aspects of the body until it sees them all clearly and can remove its attachments concerning the body once and for all. At that point, the mind begins to be pro- gressively more empty, but it doesn’t yet display a complete emptiness. As long as it hasn’t gained total proficiency, images will still appear within it as mental pictures. The images within the heart then begin to fade day by day, until finally they are gone. No mental images appear either inside or outside the heart. This is called an empty mind.
This kind of emptiness is the inherent emptiness of the mind that has reached its own level. It’s not the same as the emptiness of samadhi. The empti- ness of samadhi lasts only as long as we sit in samadhi. But, when the mind lets go of the body, because of the power of its mindfulness and wisdom that are fully alert to the internal images, this is called the emptiness of the mind on its own level. This emptiness, gained through wisdom, is lasting.
When this stage is reached, the mind is truly empty. Even though the body appears, there’s simply a sense that the body is there. No image of the body ap- pears in the mind at all. Emptiness of this sort is said to be empty on the level of the mind – and it’s constantly empty like this at all times. If this emptiness is Nibbana, it’s the Nibbana of that particular meditator or of that stage of the mind, but it’s not yet the Nibbana of the Buddha. If someone were to take the emptiness of samadhi for Nibbana, it would simply be the Nibbana of that par- ticular meditator’s samadhi. Why is it that these two sorts of emptiness aren’t the emptiness of the Buddha’s Nibbana? Because the mind empty in samadhi is unavoidably satisfied with and attached to its samadhi. The mind empty in line with its own level is likewise unavoidably absorbed in and attached to that sort of emptiness. The mind must then take that level of emptiness as its object until it passes beyond it. Anyone who calls this emptiness Nibbana is actually attached to this emptiness without realizing it. When attachment is involved, how can this sort of emptiness be Nibbana?
If we don’t want to settle for this level of Nibbana, we must take a thorough look at feel- ing, memory, thought and consciousness until we see them clearly and in full detail – because the emptiness we’re referring to is the emptiness of feeling, in that a feeling of pleasure fills this emp- tiness. Memory recognizes it as empty. Thoughts take this emptiness as their preoccupation. Con- sciousness is aware of an internal emptiness. So this level of emptiness becomes the emptiness of the mind’s preoccupation.
If we investigate this emptiness, seeing it clearly as a mental fabrication, we will open the way by which we are sure of transcending it someday. Investi- gating in this way, the truth of the mind will gradually reveal itself. The mind is then sure to find a way to shake itself free. Even the underlying basis for these fabricated things will not be able to withstand mindfulness and wisdom. Mind- fulness and wisdom of a radical sort will slash their way in – just like a fire that burns without stopping when it meets with fuel – until they have dug up the roots of all conditioned things. Only then will they stop their advance.
On this level, the adversaries to the Nibbana of the Buddha are the things to which the mind is attached: the sense that, “My heart is empty,” “My heart is at ease,” “My heart is clean and clear.” Although we may see the heart as empty, it’s paired with a non-emptiness. The heart may seem to be satisfied, but it’s merely the other side of dissatisfaction. The heart may seem clean and clear, but it dwells with defilement – without our being aware of it. Thus empti- ness, ease and clarity are the qualities that obscure the heart because they are the signs of becoming and birth. Whoever wants to cut off becoming and birth should thus investigate these things with wisdom so as to let them go. Don’t be possessive of them, or they will turn into a fire that burns you. When your wisdom digs down into these three lords of becoming as they appear, you will come to the central hub of becoming and birth, and it will disintegrate from the heart the moment wisdom reaches the foundation on which it is based.
The ultimate form of emptiness arises when those factors are ended through the power of wisdom. No signs of any conventional reality will appear in that emptiness at all. It is an emptiness different from the other forms of emptiness we have passed through. Whether that emptiness can be called the emptiness of the Buddha, or whose emptiness it is, I’m afraid I can’t say, other than that it’s an emptiness that each meditator can know directly only for him or herself alone.
The ultimate emptiness has no time or season. It’s absolutely timeless. The emptiness of samadhi can fluctuate and change. The emptiness of the formless or imageless level, which serves as our path, can change or be transcended. But this emptiness exclusively within oneself doesn’t change – because there is no self within this emptiness, and no sense that this emptiness is oneself. There is simply the knowledge and vision of things as they are – seeing this emptiness in line with its natural principles as they actually are, and seeing all phenomena as they actually are. Even moral virtue, samadhi and wisdom – the qualities we use to straighten out the heart – are realized for what they are and let go in line with their true nature. Nothing at all remains lurking in the nature of this final stage of emptiness.
Please reflect on these three kinds of emptiness and try to attain them in your practice. Especially the last form of emptiness, which is emptiness in the principles of nature, beyond the range where any other person or any conven- tional reality can become involved with it ever again. Our doubts, ranging from the beginning levels of the Dhamma to this ultimate emptiness, will finally be resolved, with our own knowledge and vision acting as judge.


Birth and Death | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Birth and Death | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

When people come to me with questions, most are eager to ask this one: Is there a next world after death? This sort of question is not any one person’s issue. It’s an issue for all of us who are carrying a burden. When people ask a question like that, I ask them in return, “Was there a yesterday? Was there a morning today? Is there a present at this moment?” They admit that there was and is. “Then will there be a tomorrow? A day after tomorrow? A this month? A next month? A this year? A next year, and years after that?”

Ajahn Maha Boowa

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled Birth and Death. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Ajahn Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna.

Birth and Death by Ajahn Maha Boowa is a Forest Dhamma Publication / March 2011.

All commercial rights reserved. © 2011 Bhikkhu Dick Silaratano.

Dhamma should not be sold like goods in the market place. Permission to reproduce this publication in any way for free distribution, as a gift of Dhamma, is hereby granted and no further permission need be obtained. Reproduction in any way for commercial gain is strictly prohibited.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Luangta Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.


Birth and Death
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
When people come to me with questions, most are eager to ask this one: Is there a next world after death? This sort of question is not any one person’s issue. It’s an issue for all of us who are carrying a burden. When people ask a question like that, I ask them in return, “Was there a yesterday? Was there a morning today? Is there a present at this moment?” They admit that there was and is. “Then will there be a tomorrow? A day after tomorrow? A this month? A next month? A this year? A next year, and years after that?”
Things from the past that we remember can be used to make guesses about the future. Even for things that have yet to happen, we can make comparisons with things that have already occurred. The future has to follow the way things have been in the past. For example, yesterday has already occurred, today is occurring. These things follow one after the other. We know this, we remember, we haven’t forgotten. This afternoon, this evening, tonight, tomor- row morning: We’ve already seen that time moves in this sequence. This is definitely the way things have happened, so we accept that this is the way they will continue to be.
Doubts about this world and the next, or about other things concerning us, are forms of self-delusion, which is why these things become big issues, causing endless fuss about rebirth all over the world. “Is there a next world? When people die, are they reborn?” These questions go together, for who is it that takes birth and dies? We ourselves are always dying and being reborn. What comes to this world and then goes to the next world is us. Who else would it be? If it weren’t for us wanderers in the round of rebirth, no one would be burdened with these questions.
This is the harm of delusion: we’ve been through birth so many times before but we fail to remember. It shows in our lives, but we can’t catch hold of its causes, of why it has come about. We can’t remember what happened. Our daily affairs spin us around in circles, getting us so tangled up that we don’t know which way to go. This is why self-delusion causes endless complications. Being deluded about other things is not so bad, but being deluded about ourselves blocks all the exits. We can’t find any way out. The results come right back at us and bring us suffering, because these sorts of doubts are questions which bind us, not questions which set us free. We can have no hope of resolv- ing these doubts unless we seek the answers by practicing meditation.
This is why the Lord Buddha taught us to solve our own problems. But it’s essential to do this in the right way. If we do it by guessing or speculating about what’s right, we won’t succeed. The only way to succeed is to steadily develop goodness as a support for our meditation practice, so that we can begin to un- ravel our own affairs, which lie in the sphere of meditation. This is what will lead us to a clear understanding that cuts through our doubts, bringing us satis- factory results. We will be able to stop wondering about whether there is death and rebirth, or death and annihilation.
What are our own affairs? The affairs of the heart. The heart is what acts, creating causes and results for itself all the time: pleasure, pain, complications and turmoil. For the most part, it ties itself down more than it helps itself. When we don’t force it to go in good ways, the heart reaps trouble as a result. Suf- fering comes from being agitated and anxious, thinking restlessly from various angles for no worthwhile reason. The results we receive are an important factor in making us pained and unsettled. This is a very difficult matter for those who are deluded about the world and about themselves, who are agitated without being interested in confirming the truth about themselves using the principles of the Dhamma, principles that guarantee the truth. For example, once we die, we must be reborn; as long as the seeds of rebirth are in the heart, we have to continue being reborn repeatedly. It can’t be otherwise; we cannot be annihi- lated at death.
The Buddha teaches us to keep a watch on the instigator. In other words, we should observe our own heart, which causes birth and death. Since we don’t understand it, he explains various ways to observe the heart until we can understand the situation and deal with it properly. In particular, he teaches us to meditate, so that the heart – which has no solid footing – will gain enough of a footing to stand on its feet. In that way, it will gain quiet and calm, free from the distraction and unsteadiness that destroys our peace of mind.
For example, he teaches us to repeat “Buddho, Dhammo, Sangho” or “bones”, “hair of the head”, “hair of the body” or whatever phrase suits our temperament, being mindful to keep watch over our meditation theme so as not to become forgetful and send the mind elsewhere. Then the mind, which we used to send out to various objects, can stay firmly with its Dhamma- theme: its meditation-word. Our awareness, which used to be scattered among various preoccupations, will now gather into that point – the heart – which is the gathering place of awareness. All the currents of our awareness will con- verge at the Dhamma-theme we are repeating with interest. This is because the meditation-word becomes more and more an object of clear and conspicuous awareness. Thus at the beginning stages of meditation, the meditation-word is very important.
Once we have seen the intrinsic value of the peace that appears this way, we also see clearly the harm that comes from the agitation of a mind that has no footing to hold to. We know from our own experience the benefits of a peace- ful mind and the harm of an agitated mind. The Buddha teaches this as the first step on the path to understanding the affairs of the mind.
We then try to make the mind progressively more settled and calm by repeating the meditation-word, as already mentioned. We keep at it, again and again, until we become adept, until the mind can become still the way we want it. The sense of well-being that arises from a calm mind becomes even more prominent and clear all the time. As soon as the mind becomes still, giving rise to clear and prominent awareness, it at the same time gathers the defilements into a single spot so that we can see them more clearly and more easily observe their behavior – so that we can more easily remove them with the levels of wisdom suited to dealing with crude, intermediate and subtle defilements step by step. Now, concerning defilements, the things that force the mind to be agi- tated in countless, inconceivable ways: We can’t catch sight of what defilement is, what the mind is or what the Dhamma is, until we first have a firm basis of mental stillness. When the mind gathers in and is still, the defilements gather in and are still as well. When the mind draws into itself, becoming a point on which we can focus, the defilements also enter a restricted range in that same point. They gather in the mind and rarely ever run loose to stir up trouble as they used to before the mind became still.
Once the mind is still so that it can stand on its feet, we are then taught to use our wisdom to investigate, contemplating the various parts of the body in which the defilements hide out. What is the mind interested in? When it isn’t quiet, with what does it like to involve itself? While the mind is quiet, it doesn’t stir up trouble for itself, but a common habit with us human beings is that once we have gained peace and relaxation, we get lazy. We simply want to lie down and rest. We don’t want to probe into the body or the mind with our mindfulness and wisdom for the sake of seeing the truth and removing the various defilements from the heart. We don’t like to reflect on the fact that those who have removed the various kinds of defilement that hide out in the body and the mind have done so by using mindfulness and wisdom. As for mental stillness, or samadhi, that’s simply a gathering together of the defilements into a restricted range. It doesn’t effect a removal of the defilements. Please remember this and take it to heart.
When the mind isn’t still, it tends to get entangled with sights, sounds, smells, tastes and tactile sensations, and to take them as issues for stirring it- self up. We can know with our mindfulness and wisdom which of the various sights, sounds, etc., the mind tends to favor most strongly. While we are inves- tigating, we can know with mindfulness and wisdom which objects the mind likes to get involved with. We can observe the affairs of the mind because of its stillness. As soon as it begins to head out toward its various preoccupations, we know. This is why we are taught to investigate things with our wisdom so as to know what the mind tends to involve itself with. Try to observe so as to know, so as to see clearly with mindfulness and wisdom while you are investigating. Only when you are stilling the mind in samadhi is there no need for you to investigate, because samadhi and wisdom take turns working at different times, each in their own way.
When you are investigating visual objects, with which visual object is your mind most involved? What is the reason? Look at the object. Dissect it. Analyze it into its parts so as to see it clearly for what it truly is. Once you have dissected the object – whatever it is – so as to see it with wisdom in line with its truth, you will see the absurdity and the deceptiveness of the mind that misconstrues things in all kinds of ways without any real reason, without any basis in fact.
Once you have investigated carefully, you’ll see that the object has none of the worth assigned to it by the mind. The mind’s assumptions have simply fallen for the object, that’s all. Once you have investigated, separating the various parts of the body so as to see them in detail, you won’t see anything worthwhile or sub- stantial at all. The heart of its own accord will see the harmfulness of its assump- tions and attachments. The more it investigates, the more clearly it sees – not only the various sights, sounds, smells, tastes and tactile sensations, but also the acts of the mind involved with those objects – until it fully knows and clearly sees with wisdom, because it has been constantly unraveling things both within and without. You fully know and clearly see the mind’s actions, knowing that they come about for this reason and that, all of which are thoroughly absurd.
Before, you didn’t know why the mind was so involved. But now you know clearly that it is involved because of delusion and mistaken assumptions. When you investigate in line with the truth and see the true nature of external things, you know clearly within yourself that the mind has construed phenom- ena to be like this and like that, which is why it has continually developed more and more attachment and clinging, more and more of the defilements of love and hatred. The mind then realizes its own absurdity.
When the heart realizes that it has been deluded, it withdraws inward, because if it were to continue to think of becoming attached to those things, it would get cut right through by wisdom – so what would it gain from becoming attached? To investigate so as to know clearly that this is this, and that is that, in line with the truth of every individual thing of every sort: This is the way to unravel the great mass of problems that, taken together, are the mass of suffer- ing inside the heart.
As wisdom constantly keeps unraveling things without letup until it under- stands clearly and distinctly, we don’t have to tell the mind to let go. Once the mind knows, it is bound to let go of its own accord. The clinging mind is the mind that doesn’t yet know, doesn’t yet understand with wisdom. Once it does know, it fully lets go, with no concern or regrets. All the concerns that used to disturb the mind vanish of their own accord because the mind sees right through them. Once it sees everything clearly and distinctly, what is there left to grope for?
The next step is to investigate the mind, the gathering point of subtle de- filements, so as to see what it is looking for when it flows out. Where does it flow from? What pressures the mind into forming thoughts? When mindfulness and wisdom can keep up with thoughts, these thoughts vanish immediately without amounting to anything, without forming issues to entangle us as they did before. This is because mindfulness and wisdom are wise to them, and al- ways ready to herd them in and wipe them out as they keep following the tracks of the origin of defilement to see exactly where it is. Where do its children and grandchildren – the defilements – come from? Animals have their parents, what are the parents of these defilements? Where are they? Why do they keep forming again and again, thinking again and again? Why do they give rise to assumptions and interpretations, increasing pain and suffering without end?
Actually, thoughts are formed at the mind. They don’t form anywhere else. So investigate, following them in, step by step, without losing the trail that will lead you to the truth. This is genuine exploration, observing the affairs of all the defilements, using the power of genuine mindfulness and wisdom. Ultimately you will know what the mind is lacking, what it is still connected with, what it is interested in, what it wants to know and to see.
So we follow the connections on in. Day by day, the defilements become more and more restricted. This is because the bridges that connect them to sights, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile sensations and the various things of the world in general have been cut away from the mind by using continuous mind- fulness and wisdom to the point where we have no more doubts. It’s as though the outside world doesn’t exist. There remain only the preoccupations that form
– blip, blip, blip – in the mind. This is where the rebellious monarch lies. The one who concocts and creates, the one who struggles and writhes restlessly, lies right here.
Before, we didn’t know in what ways the mind was writhing. All we knew were the unsatisfactory results that appeared, giving us nothing but pain and suffering, which no one in the world wants. Our heart was so burdened with suffering that it couldn’t find a way out, because it had no inkling of how to remedy things. But now that we know, we see more and more clearly into the heart where delusion is the major player. Delusion can’t find anything to latch onto outside, so it simply acts inside. Why doesn’t it latch on? Because mind- fulness and wisdom understand and have it surrounded. So how could it latch onto anything? We now see it more clearly and focus our investigation on it, scratch away at it, dig away at it with mindfulness and wisdom until we have it surrounded every time the heart makes a move. There are no longer any lapses in alertness as there were in the first stages when mindfulness and wisdom were still stumbling and crawling along.
Our persistence at this level is no longer a matter of every activity. It be- comes a matter of every mental moment in which the mind ripples. Mindful- ness and wisdom have to know both when the rippling comes out and when it vanishes – so no issues can arise in the moment the mind is fashioning a thought, an assumption or an interpretation. This is possible because our super- fast mindfulness and wisdom can keep up with everything. As soon as a rippling occurs, we know. When we know, it vanishes. No issues arise in between. They vanish the moment they appear. They can’t branch out anywhere because the bridges to outside matters have been cut by mindfulness and wisdom.
When mindfulness and wisdom are exploring earnestly, relentlessly, un- flaggingly, they want to know and to destroy whatever is hazardous. “What causes us to take birth? What leads us to wander in the round of rebirth? What are the causes and conditions that connect things?” This is called scratching away with mindfulness and wisdom, digging away at the heart of delusion. There is no way we can escape knowing and severing the important cause that creates pain and suffering for all living beings: namely, the defilement of delu- sion that has infiltrated the heart in an insidious way. Such is the power of mind- fulness, wisdom, conviction and persistence at the advanced level; something we never imagined could be possible.
The defilements begin to reveal themselves now because they have no place to hide. Since the bridges have been cut, they no longer have the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and tactile sensations in which they used to hole up. Their only hideout is in the heart: The heart is delusion’s hideout. When wis- dom ransacks through the heart until everything is completely smashed so that nothing remains, ultimately the supreme defilement of delusion – the emperor of the round of rebirth – is completely obliterated from the heart. At this point, how can we help but know what it is that causes birth on this or that level? As for where we will or won’t be reborn, that’s not important. What’s important is seeing clearly that this is what causes birth and death to occur.
This is how we prove whether death is followed by rebirth or by annihila- tion. We have to prove it in the heart by practicing in line with the principles of mental development, in the same way the Buddha and his Noble Disciples practiced and knew so that it was clear to their hearts. There is no other way to know. Don’t go groping and guessing, like scratching at fleas. You’ll end up all mangy and dirty, without gaining anything at all. When we reach this point, it’s called eliminating birth – whose primary seeds lie within – completely from the heart. From this moment onward, there is nothing that can ever again connect and branch out. Mindfulness and wisdom on the level of Dhamma-realization know this completely.
Delusion is the culprit who asks, “Is there a next world?” This is the one who reserves a place in the next world, the one who reserved our place in past worlds, the one who has been born and has died over and over and over again, unceasingly and relentlessly to the point where it can’t remember the births, the deaths, the pleasures, the pains, the sufferings large and small in its various lives. This is the one.
So please remember its face well. Probe and slash at it until it’s destroyed. Don’t show it any mercy: You’ll simply be feeding and fattening it for it to come back and destroy you.
When we gather the defilements, they converge into the heart. They gather here, and we destroy them right here. Once we have finished destroying them so that nothing is left, the questions about birth, death and the pain and suffer- ing that result from birth and death no longer exist. We can know this clearly for ourselves in a way that is immediately apparent.
There is no more problem about whether or not there is a next world. Our past worlds, we have already abandoned. As for the next world, the bridges have all collapsed. And as for the present, we’re wise to it. There are no conven- tions, no matter how refined, left in the mind. This is truly a mind with no more problems. Once they are all solved here, there will never be any problems again.
The Lord Buddha solved the problem right here. His Arahant disciples solved it right here – knew it right here, severed it completely right here. The proclamation that the Teacher was completely free of pain and suffering, that he was the foremost teacher of the world, came from this knowledge and this free- dom from issues. Our study of the world is completed right here at the heart. Our study of the Dhamma reaches full completion right here.
The “world” means the world of living beings. “Living beings” means those who are caught up at the heart. This is where we cut through the problem. This is where we study and know. The Arahant disciples studied and knew right here with their full hearts – and that was the end of the problem. They solved the problem, and it fell away with nothing remaining.
But as for us, we take on the whole thing: the entire heap of pain and suf- fering. We take on all problems, but we aren’t willing to solve them. We simply hoard them to weigh ourselves down all the time. Our heart is thus filled with a heap of suffering that nothing else can equal, because nothing else is as heavy as a heart heaped with pain. Carrying this heap of problems is heavy on the heart because we haven’t completed our studies. We carry nothing but this heap because of our delusion.
When true knowledge appears and eradicates all the hazards from the heart, this is what it means to “graduate” in line with natural principles, with no conferring of degrees or titles that would cause us to become even more de- luded. Completing our study of the Dhamma means that we have totally erased all delusion from the heart, with no traces remaining.
At that moment, the three levels of existence – the levels of sensuality, form and formlessness – are no longer a problem, because they all lie in the heart. The level of sensuality is a heart composed of sensuality. The levels of form and formlessness are the conventions of those realms buried in the heart. When the heart removes them, that’s the end of the problem. When we solve the problem, this is where we solve it. This world and the next world lie right here, because that which steps into any world lies right here. This heart is what steps out to receive suffering. The motor, the propeller, lies here in the heart and nowhere else.
The Lord Buddha thus taught at the right point, the most appropriate point: the heart, which is the primary culprit. Where do the things I have mentioned here lie if not with each of us? And if we don’t solve them right here, where will we solve them?
Living beings are reborn in various realms of existence through the power of the good and bad kamma within the heart. The heart itself is what’s reborn  into those realms. If we don’t solve the problem right in the heart, we’ll never be able to escape the bonfires of suffering and anxiety. If we solve the problem right there, it doesn’t matter where the fires are, because we can keep ourselves protected. That’s all there is to it!
 Whatever problems arise, they arise right here. “Is death followed by rebirth? By annihi- lation? Is there a next world? Does hell exist? Does heaven? Does evil exist? Does merit?” Ev- erywhere I go, there’s the same question: “Do heaven and hell exist?” I never feel like answer- ing. I don’t see any reason to answer it, because that which is burdened with heaven and hell is the heart, which everyone already has. So why waste time answering? After all, I’m not a record-keeper for heaven and hell!
 Straighten things out right here at the cause that will lead to heaven and hell. Straighten out the bad causes and foster the good ones. When we straighten things out correctly, suffering will not bother us. And how can we miss? The well-taught Dhamma teaches us to solve things right on target, not off-target. Where will we solve things if we don’t solve them at the heart? The big problems lie solely at the heart, at this awareness. Crudeness is a matter of this aware- ness. Refinement is a matter of this awareness. That which makes people crude or refined is this awareness, with defilements as the rein- forcement. If the heart becomes refined, it’s because goodness is the reinforcement, making it refined until it goes beyond the final point of refinement, beyond the final point of conventions, and ends up gaining release from all suffering, with no seeds for any further connections.
Another question that people are always asking is how to overcome lazi- ness. If we were to tell them to use laziness to overcome laziness, it would be tantamount to telling them to become an enemy of beds, blankets and pillows by sleeping without ever waking up. It would be as if they were already dead, because laziness makes you weak and listless like a person ready to die. How can you use laziness to cure laziness? Once you get a nice resting place as a means of lulling you to drown in sleep, it’s as if you were already dead – dead right there on the pillow! Even when you wake up, you don’t want to get up, because laziness stomps all over you, forcing you to stay prone. This is how it goes when you use laziness to cure laziness.
If you use energy and persistence to cure laziness, then you get right up, ready to fight. If there’s a fight, you have hope of winning. But if you simply lie prostrate, all you can do is lose – although whether we should call it losing or something else is hard to say, because you don’t even put up a fight at all, so how can you say that you lose? If there’s a fight and you can’t win, then you can say that this person wins and that person loses. But here there’s no fight at all! You simply lie there wallowing. If you don’t call this being a servant in the house of defilements what would you call it? Because that’s what it is: being a servant in their house. If you use laziness to cure the defilements, you end up piling on even more defilements. Or what would you say? As things stand, the defilements already fill the heart, so if you foster them even more, where are you going to put them? You’ve got only one heart! The only way is to remove the defilements so that you can begin to breathe, and not let them sit on top of your nose so that you can never gasp a breath at all.
Persistence. Diligence. Exertion in the way of reason that can accomplish our purposes: This is the path that sages have followed. Even though it may be difficult, we’re up to the fight. It’s like removing a thorn from your foot: Even though it hurts to remove it, you have to bear it. If you let it stay there, your whole foot will become infected. You won’t be able to walk at all, and you may even lose your foot. So there’s only one reasonable course: Pull it out. No matter how much it hurts, you have to bear it, because you have to get the thing out! This is a line of reasoning you have to accept. Once the thorn is out, it holds no more poison. Put medicine on the wound, and the foot will heal without flaring up as it would if the thorn were still embedded there.
Defilement is just like a thorn. We let it lie buried forever in the heart. As long as it remains, the heart is constantly infected. Is this what you want? To be a putrid person? Ask yourself. Don’t ask the defilements. They’ll simply do you more harm. If you don’t want this, you have to fight them. Once you fight them, you are sure of somehow finding a way to win. No matter how many times you lose, there will have to come a time when you win. Once you’ve won, then you can keep on winning and winning until there is nothing left for you to fight because the defilements are completely destroyed.
When you win, what do you defeat? You defeat laziness with diligence. You defeat defilements with energy and persistence. This way you gain release from all suffering. This is how you solve the problem of birth and death, right at the heart. There is only this spot that most needs solving. It’s the most appro- priate spot, the most correct spot to solve. There is no way you can solve them anywhere else. Keep on making assumptions and interpretations for eons and eons, and you’ll simply continue to be burdened with the problem as it leads you to more birth, death, pain and suffering.
“Does suffering exist, or not? Do merit and evil exist, or not?” Actually, all of us without exception experience these things. “Evil” is mental darkness and suffering. “Merit” is well-being and ease. These things exist in the body and mind of every person, so how can you deny them? “Merit” is a name for well-being. The Buddha calls it merit. Suffering he calls evil. We are touched by good and evil all the time. Whether we live in this world or the next, we can’t help but meet with good and evil.
Hell or not-hell, if there’s pain filling the body and the mind, who wants it? Who wants to meet with it? This is something we all know, so why ask about hell when it’s already with us like this? Wherever pain is burning us, it’s as hot as being branded with fire. No matter where you’re branded, it is hot in the same way. You can call it hell or not-hell as you like, but nobody wants it, be- cause pain is something we have all known for ourselves.
And where are you going to look for heaven? When you meet with the well-being that comes from practicing the Dhamma – and especially with well- being in the heart, beginning with stillness and calm in ascending stages to the point where the heart develops a firm and solid footing within, so that it is sure of itself; and then further, to the point where you gain release – then where are you going to ask about heaven and Nibbana? There’s no need to ask. You know them directly with your heart. You are the owner, in charge of the heart that is clearly the instigator, so where else are you going to look for the names “heaven” and “hell”? What is there to grope for?
You’ve got the real thing within you. That’s all that matters. The Dhamma of the Lord Buddha doesn’t delude people into groping for this or that. So take hold of the real thing right here.


Right Here In The Heart | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Right Here In The Heart | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

“The Dhamma lies with the heart. The Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha lie in the heart. All dhammas lie in the heart.” I didn’t believe this. All 84,000 sections of the Dhamma lie in the texts – that’s how I felt at first. But as I kept listening to my teachers explain things, none of them ever deviated from this point: “The Dhamma lies in the heart. The Dhamma lies with the heart.” As I kept listening to this, my mind gradually settled down and grew still.

Ajahn Maha Boowa

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled Right Here In The Heart. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Ajahn Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna.

The Forest Path Podcast is part of the Everyday Dhamma Network.

Medicine For The Mind by Ajahn Maha Boowa is a Forest Dhamma Publication / March 2011.

All commercial rights reserved. © 2011 Bhikkhu Dick Silaratano.

Dhamma should not be sold like goods in the market place. Permission to reproduce this publication in any way for free distribution, as a gift of Dhamma, is hereby granted and no further permission need be obtained. Reproduction in any way for commercial gain is strictly prohibited. Cover and interior design by Mae Chee Melita Halim.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Luangta Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.


Right Here In The Heart
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
When you listen to a Dhamma talk, pay close attention to your heart, for that’s where the Dhamma lies – in the heart. At first, before I had practiced meditation, I didn’t believe that the Dhamma lay with the heart. “How could that be?” I thought. “The Dhamma comes with making an effort in the heart. That sounds better than saying the Dhamma lies with the heart.”
“The Dhamma lies with the heart. The Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha lie in the heart. All dhammas lie in the heart.” I didn’t believe this. All 84,000 sections of the Dhamma lie in the texts – that’s how I felt at first. But as I kept listening to my teachers explain things, none of them ever deviated from this point: “The Dhamma lies in the heart. The Dhamma lies with the heart.” As I kept listening to this, my mind gradually settled down and grew still.
At first, when I listened to a Dhamma talk, I’d focus my attention on the speaker, instead of keeping it focused on myself. “Don’t focus your attention outside,” they’d say. “Keep conscious of what’s going on inside yourself. The Dhamma being explained will come in and make contact with you on its own.” I wouldn’t listen to this. I kept focusing my attention on the speaker. In fact, I’d even want to watch his face as he talked. It got to the point where if I didn’t watch his face, didn’t watch his mouth as he talked, I didn’t feel right. That’s how I was at the beginning.
But as time passed, I came to find that stillness would appear in my heart while I was listening to the Dhamma. That’s when I began to believe: “The Dhamma of concentration does lie right here in the heart.” I began to have a witness – myself. So from that point on, I wouldn’t send my attention anywhere outside while listening to a Dhamma talk. I wouldn’t even send it to the speak- er, because I was absorbed in the stillness in my heart. My heart would grow still as I listened – cool, calm and absorbed. This made me believe: “They’re right. The Dhamma does lie with the heart!”
That’s when I began to believe this – when the Dhamma of concentration, mental stillness and calm appeared in my heart as I listened to the Dhamma. This made me want to keep on listening as a means of stilling and calming the heart.
As time passed and I continued my meditation, the results of my practice always appeared in the heart. They didn’t appear anywhere else. When the mind wasn’t still, then whatever was disturbing it could be found in the heart. I’d know: “Today my heart doesn’t feel right.” It would be distracted and restless according to its moods. “Eh? Why doesn’t my heart feel right today?” This made me interested from another angle. I’d try my best to calm the heart down. As soon as it got back into place with its meditation, it settled down and became still. This made the point very clear – Dhamma does lie in the heart.
The world lies in the heart. The Dhamma lies in the heart. For this reason, when you listen to a Dhamma talk you should keep your attention focused right inside yourself. There’s no need to send it outside – to have anything to do with the person speaking, for instance. When you keep your awareness focused inside yourself this way, the Dhamma being explained will come in and make contact with your awareness.
The heart is what is aware. When the current of sound dealing with the Dhamma comes in and makes continual contact with the heart, the heart won’t have a chance to slip outside, because the Dhamma is something calming and absorbing. This moment, that moment, it keeps you absorbed from moment to moment with the current of sound coming from the speaker. Step after step, it keeps making contact. The heart gradually becomes more and more quiet, more and more still. This way you already start seeing the rewards that come from listening.
This is why, if you want to listen to the Dhamma in the right way for get- ting clear results, you have to keep your attention focused firmly inside yourself. There’s no need to send it outside, and no need to engage in a lot of thinking while you’re listening. Simply let the mind follow along with the current of
Dhamma being explained, and the Dhamma will seep into your heart. When the mind doesn’t get itself worked up with thoughts about various things, it becomes still; that’s all there is to it. But to grow still, it needs something to counteract its thoughts. It won’t settle down on its own simply because you want it to. You have to use one Dhamma theme or another, or the sound of Dhamma while a Dhamma talk is going on. Only then can it grow still.
Where is the greatest turmoil in the world? There’s no greater turmoil than the one in the heart. If we talk about things murky and turbid, there’s nothing more murky and turbid than the heart. Nothing at all can compare with the heart in being troubled and pained. Even the heat of fire isn’t nearly as hot as a heart aflame with mental defilements.
Defilements do nothing but make us suffer, step after step. This is why we’re taught to see their harm. We must be intent on keeping mindfulness es- tablished and investigate things from various angles. When mindfulness and awareness keep in touch with each other, then our practice of concentration and our investigation of things from the various angles of wisdom keep getting results step by step.
For example, the Buddha teaches us: “Birth is suffering. Death is suffering. These are Noble Truths.” Birth is suffering, but we’re pleased by birth. When a child is born, we’re happy. When a grandchild is born, when our friends and relatives have children, we’re happy. We don’t think of the pain and suffering the child goes through, surviving almost certain death in that narrow passage before being born.
If we don’t look at both the beginning point – birth – and the endpoint
– death – so as to see them clearly, both these points will cause us unending joy and sorrow. Actually, the child has to survive almost certain death before it can become a human being. If it doesn’t survive, it dies right then – either in the womb or at the moment of birth – because it’s pained to the point of death. That’s how we human beings die. Once we’re born, then no matter what our age, we have to be pained to the point of death before we can die.
Pain is something we’ve experienced from the moment of birth, but we don’t see it as a Noble Truth. Actually, it’s something we should see as harmful, dangerous and threatening, so that we can find a way to transcend it through our own efforts – and especially through the efforts of our mindfulness and wis- dom. When we enjoy the beginning but dislike the end – when we like birth but dislike death – we’re contradicting the truth all the time. And where can we get any happiness with these contradictions in the heart? They have to make us suffer. There are no two ways about it.
In order to put the beginning and end in line with each other, we must contemplate the entire course of events – to see that birth is suffering, ageing is suffering, death is suffering – for these three are all bound up with pain and suffering. They’re the path leading to suffering and discontent, not the path leading to Nibbana, so we cannot progress along the right path until we have thoroughly understood them through skillful investigation. The Buddha teach- es: “There is no suffering for those without birth.” When there’s no birth, where will there be any suffering? When there are no seeds for birth, there are simply no seeds for suffering, so suffering does not exist in the heart. This is why En- lightened Ones have no feelings of discontent or pain in their hearts. They have no moods in their hearts at all. No happy, sad or indifferent moods exist in the heart of an Arahant.
Arahants have all three kinds of feelings in their bodies: they feel physical pain just like we do, but their hearts have no moods. Physical feelings have no effect on their hearts. Their hearts aren’t swayed by such influences the way ordinary hearts are. They know pleasure, pain and neutral feeling in their bod- ies, but there are no corresponding moods in their hearts – because they have gone beyond all moods. Their hearts are pure, unadulterated Dhamma, which no defilement can infiltrate. Feelings of pleasure and pain are all impermanent, unsatisfactory and not-self, so they can’t possibly get involved with the nature of a pure heart.
If you want your heart to prosper and grow toward purity, strive to develop inner goodness. Don’t let the qualities of generosity and moral virtue lapse.
 They are good qualities for nourishing your heart and connecting it up with good states of rebirth. If you have a good foundation of inner worth as your sustenance, then no matter where you’re reborn, that goodness will stick close to you so that you can look forward to a good destination.
 As long as we have yet to gain release from suf- fering, we are taught to exert ourselves fully without being lazy or complacent. Polish the heart every day. When the heart is polished every day, it’s bound to shine. And when the heart is shining, you’re bound to see your reflection, just as when water is clear you can see clearly whatever plants or animals there are in the water.
Once the heart is still, you’ll be able to see what- ever poisons or dangers it contains much more eas- ily than when it’s murky and turbulent with defiling preoccupations. This is why we’re taught to purify the heart. In the teachings gathered in the Patimokkha ex- hortation, we’re taught:
Never do any evil,
Develop skillfulness fully,
Cleanse the heart until it is pure:
These are the Buddhas’ teachings.
 
This is what all the Buddhas teach, without excep- tion. Whatever is evil or debasing they teach us not to do, telling us instead to do only things that are skilful, through the power of our own wisdom. Developing skillfulness fully means developing wisdom fully.
Cleansing the heart until it is pure is hard to do, but it lies within our capacity as human beings to do it. The Buddha went through hardships, his disciples went through hardships, all those who have reached purity have had to go through hardships, but these were hardships for the sake of gaining purity and release, which is what makes them worth going through.
When the heart is overcome with dirt and defilement, it does not seem to have any value at all. Even we can see the fault in ourselves. We may decide that we’d rather put an end to it all. We’re so disgusted and fed up with life that we’re ashamed to show our face to the world. And all of this happens when the heart is very murky and dark, to the point where it becomes a smoldering fire.
Life doesn’t seem worth living when the heart is overwhelmed by things that are so hopelessly dark. The heart seems worthless, which is why we think it would be better to die. But where will we get anything ‘better’ after we die? Even in the present, nothing is good. The world has had people dying a long time now; if things got better with death, why isn’t the world any better than it is? There’s no good in us – that’s why we want to die. Once the heart is good, however, it has no problem with life or death, because it’s filled with good- ness.
A heart overcome by worthless things seems thoroughly worthless. But when we wash these things away, step by step, the heart gradually starts show- ing some of its inner radiance. It starts growing peaceful and calm. The entire heart becomes radiant. Happy. Relaxed. Whatever we do – sitting, standing, walking, lying down or whatever work we do – we’re happy with the pleasure that has appeared in the heart.
When the heart is peaceful and calm, then wherever we are, we’re con- tent. The important point lies with the heart. If the heart lacks goodness, then nothing is good, no matter where we are. We keep fooling ourselves: “Over here might be good. Over there might be good. This lifetime is no good. The next lifetime will be better. Living is no good. Dying would be better.” We keep fooling ourselves. The troubled part of the mind – that’s what fools us. The part
that’s stirred up by various issues – that’s what fools us. “This will be good… That will be good,” but it’s not good at all. No matter where we go, we end up the same as where we started – because the essential part is no good. We must straighten that out and make it good through our own efforts.
Begin by practicing concentration so that the heart can be still. You must constrain the heart when you are practicing for concentration. The time when you’re constraining the heart and training it to meditate is not the time to let it go wandering as it likes. We call this making an effort, being persistent – mak- ing a persistent effort to straighten out the heart and uproot its enemies, until the heart can grow still. The heart grows still because our efforts force it to, not because we let it go wandering as it likes. This is when we see the rewards of our efforts, because the heart has been brought to stillness and remains there through those efforts. When the goodness of the heart increases as the result of our effort, the value of effort becomes more and more apparent.
When the time comes to investigate in terms of wisdom, focus on seeing things clearly. Contemplate everything in the world so as to see it in line with the truth. The world may be infinitely wide, but when the heart is obscured by defilements, you’re caught in a very narrow and confining state of mind. When the heart feels confined it weighs heavily on itself, so you experience no com- fort at all. You must open it up right where it’s confining and give it space to blossom and be bright. It’ll then feel free, calm and at ease.
This is the point in meditation where you can investigate pain, because the mind now has the strength to probe into it. It’s ready and willing to inves- tigate because pain is a whetstone for sharpening wisdom. Concentration and wisdom are what we use to eliminate mental defilements. Wisdom is what uproots them, but concentration is what first catches them and ties them down. Concentration stills the heart and gathers it into one place so that it doesn’t get scattered around to the point where you can’t catch hold of it. Once the heart is gathered into one, wisdom opens it up and unravels it to see clearly where its concerns and attachments lie – with sights, sounds, smells, tastes and tactile sensations, or with form, feeling, memory, thought and consciousness. Wisdom  takes these things apart to see them in thorough detail, in line with the truth as it actually is.
Wisdom contemplates these things and investigates them, over and over again. These are the points where it travels. These are its whetstones. The more it investigates them, the more it branches out, step by step, understanding things for what they are and letting them go. Letting them go means putting down the burdens that weigh on the heart under the sway of attachment.
What is the mind thinking about? What good does it get from its thoughts? The moment a thought forms, it ceases. A good thought? It forms and ceases. A bad thought? It forms and ceases. Whatever the thought, it forms and ceases. These are called thought-formations. They form. They arise. They cease. Their forming and ceasing happen together. They arise and cease in the same instant. So how can we attach a sense of self to these things – to this arising-ceasing, arising-ceasing?
Investigate pain, which is something we all fear. Everyone fears the word “pain”, so how can we hold onto it as ours? Are you going to persist in holding to this mass of pain as you? To hold to pain as your ‘self’ is to hold onto fire to burn the heart. Know pain simply as pain. What knows the pain isn’t the pain. It’s the heart. The heart is what knows all about the pain. When pain arises, the heart knows. When pain remains, the heart knows. When the pain ceases, the heart knows. It knows through its wisdom. Wisdom sees clearly and distinctly that pain is pain, and what knows is what knows. The two are separate reali- ties.
The function of memory recognizes and gives meaning to things we ex- perience through the senses. When sense objects arise, the mind establishes a meaning for them that then ceases in the same instant. Can this be our ‘self’? We recognize the meaning, and then it ceases, arises and ceases, arises and ceases like everything else. Can this sort of thing be our ‘self’? Can this sort of thing be ours? If it’s us, if it’s ours, then we’re wriggling all the time because of memory and pain. Memory arises and ceases. Pain arises and ceases, arises and ceases, giving us trouble and turmoil without letup, without stop. This is why we have to investigate so as to see those conditions – the factors of body and mind – that arise and cease all around us, all around the heart.
Consciousness: How long have we been conscious of sights and sounds? Since birth. And what lasting worth have we ever gained from these things?
As soon as we’re conscious of anything by way of the eye, ear, nose, tongue or body – Blip! – it ceases in the same instant, the very same instant. So what lasting worth can you get from it? Nothing at all. Can sights be our ‘self’? Can sounds? Can smells, tastes, tactile sensations be our ‘self’? Consciousness – ac- knowledging whatever makes contact – can this be our ‘self’? It acknowledges
– Blip! Blip! Blip! – and immediately ceases. Can this be our ‘self’? There’s no way it can be.
How can we hold to this arising and immediate ceasing as our ‘self’? How can we put our trust in these things? They merely arise and cease, continuously. Are we going to persist in holding to this arising and ceasing as our ‘self’? If so, we’re in turmoil all day long because these things are arising and ceasing all the time! No matter whether they are form, feeling, memory, thought or conscious- ness, they’re constantly arising and ceasing, each and every one of them. So how can we grab onto them as ours even though we know full well that they arise and cease? This is why we have to use wisdom to investigate them so as to see clearly what they really are and then let them go accordingly.
What knows does not cease. The true heart – what knows – never ceases. It knows whatever ceases, but “that which knows” doesn’t cease. Form, feeling, memory, thought and consciousness arise and cease in their own natural way. They’re all natural phenomena that are subject to the three characteristics. The three characteristics are impermanence, dissatisfaction and not-self. How can we believe things of this sort really belong to us? If we investigate into their causes and effects using mindfulness and wisdom, there is no way we can hold onto them. We are deluded into becoming attached to them only because our defilements are so thick that the heart doesn’t see things clearly. Once we’ve investigated so as to see these things for what they really are, the heart lets go of its own.
When the time to go into battle arrives – at the time of death – take these things as your battlefield. In particular, feelings of pain will stand out more than anything else when things start to break apart. Take pain and the heart as your battlefield. Investigate them so as to see their truth. No matter how great the pain may be, it doesn’t go past death. Pain goes only as far as death. The body goes only as far as death, but the heart doesn’t cease at death. It goes past death, because the heart has never died. It transcends all these things. Pain is pain only as far as death. It doesn’t go past it. No matter what feelings arise, they go only as far as their ceasing, and that’s all. Whether they’re very painful or only a little painful, the heart knows them as they are at all times.
When mindfulness is present, the heart knows each stage of painful feeling that appears. That which knows the pain doesn’t cease, so why should we be worried and concerned about pains, which are just conditions that arise. They depend on the heart for their arising, but they aren’t the heart. They depend on the body for their arising, but they aren’t the body. They’re merely feelings. Pain, for instance, is something different, something separate from the body and heart. That’s the actual truth.
When we don’t try to contradict the truth, the heart reaches peace through its investigation of pain, especially in the last stage of life when the body is breaking up. You can see what ceases first and what ceases after because what knows will keep on knowing. Even when everything else has ceased, what knows still won’t cease. All it takes is for you to see causes and effects in this way just once, and your courage in the face of death will spring right into ac- tion. When death comes, you’ll immediately take the fighting stance of a war- rior going into battle. You’ll take mindfulness and wisdom as your weapons as you slash your way through to the truth. And when you’ve destroyed everything in your path, where will you end up? Right there with the truth.
Use your mindfulness and wisdom to slash down to the truth of everything of every sort. When you reach the truth, everything will be leveled. Everything will be still. Nothing will be left to disturb the heart. If anything is still disturb- ing the heart, that means you haven’t investigated fully down to its truth. Once you’ve reached the full truth in every way, nothing can disturb or provoke the heart at all. There’s nothing but a state of truth permeating throughout. This is called being leveled and made still by the truth, which comes through the power of mindfulness and wisdom investigating to see things clearly.
The Buddha and his Arahant disciples transcended pain and suffering right here – right where pain and suffering exist. They exist in the body, in the mind and in the heart. When we take things apart, we take them apart right here. When we know, we know right here – right where we are deluded. Wherever we don’t yet know, mindfulness and wisdom – our tools for slashing our way into the truth – will make us know. There’s nothing to equal mindfulness and wisdom in breaking through to the endpoint of all phenomena, in washing away all defilements and absolutely eliminating them from the heart. They are thus the most up-to-date tools for dealing with mental defilements of every sort.
So put mindfulness and wisdom to use when you need them, and espe- cially when you’re about to die. There’s no one else who can help you then. Even if your entire family is thronged all around you, none of them can really help. Everything depends on you. As the Buddha says: “The self is its own main- stay.” Realize this in full measure! What can you do to be your own mainstay and not your own adversary? If you bring up only weakness, confusion and lack of wisdom, you’ll be your own worst enemy. If you use mindfulness, wisdom, conviction, persistence and courage in line with the principles taught by the Buddha, investigating down to the causes and effects and the facts of all the conditions of nature, that’s when you’re truly your own mainstay.
So find yourself a mainstay. Where can you find it? “I go to the Buddha for refuge.” This reverberates throughout the heart and nowhere else. “I go to the Dhamma for refuge” reverberates through the heart. “I go to the Sangha for refuge” reverberates through one and the same heart. The heart is their vessel. The Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha are all gathered into this one heart because the heart is the most appropriate vessel for all dhammas. Get so that you see this – and especially so that you see that the whole heart is Dhamma in full.
So cleanse your heart. If you can make it gain release at that point, so much the better. You won’t have to ask the whereabouts of the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha – for you’ll have no more doubts. You’ll simply look at the knowingness showing its absolute fullness inside you and know that they are all the same.
 The Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha are all one Dhamma – one single, solid Dhamma.
At the beginning of our practice the heart had no worth, since it was filled with nothing but the excrement of greed, hatred and delusion. By totally washing away that excrement using the principles of the Dhamma, the heart itself becomes pure Dhamma. Once that happens, it’s infinitely at ease. Wherever you go, you’re at ease. “Nibbana is the ultimate void.” What-
ever is annihilated in that void, this you’ll know. Whatever remains there, this also you’ll know. Who can know this better than one without defilements? The Buddha, in saying that Nibbana is the ultimate void, was speaking from his absolute freedom from defilement. He said this from having seen Nibbana. But we haven’t seen it yet. No matter how much we repeat his words, we just stay where we are. Investigate so that you truly see it. The saying “Nibbana is the ultimate void” will no longer be a problem, because what is annihilated and what’s not will be fully clear to the heart.
“Nibbana is the ultimate happiness.” Listen! The ultimate happiness here isn’t a feeling of pleasure or happiness. Instead, it’s the happiness that comes with the absolute purity of the heart, with no arising or ceasing like our feel- ings of pleasure and pain. This has nothing to do with the three characteristics of existence. The ultimate happiness as a constant feature of the pure heart has absolutely nothing to do with the three characteristics, nothing at all to do with impermanence, dissatisfaction and not-self – it doesn’t change, it always stays just as it is.
The Buddha says Nibbana is constant. What’s constant? The pure heart and nothing else; that’s what’s constant. Get so that you see it, get so that you know.


Medicine For The Mind | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Medicine For The Mind | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

This world of ours – no matter how hot and feverish it may get – still has the teachings of the Buddha to cure its ailments. At the very least, it has the religion as a medicine to relieve its suffering to some extent. Suffering resembles a disease in that no matter how serious it may get, we can gain at least some relief if we have medicine to treat it.

Ajahn Maha Boowa

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled Medicine For The Mind. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Ajahn Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna.

Medicine For The Mind by Ajahn Maha Boowa is a Forest Dhamma Publication / March 2011.

All commercial rights reserved. © 2011 Bhikkhu Dick Silaratano.

Dhamma should not be sold like goods in the market place. Permission to reproduce this publication in any way for free distribution, as a gift of Dhamma, is hereby granted and no further permission need be obtained. Reproduction in any way for commercial gain is strictly prohibited. Cover and interior design by Mae Chee Melita Halim.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Luangta Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.


Medicine For The Mind
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
This world of ours – no matter how hot and feverish it may get – still has the teachings of the Buddha to cure its ailments. At the very least, it has the religion as a medicine to relieve its suffering to some extent. Suffering resembles a disease in that no matter how serious it may get, we can gain at least some relief if we have medicine to treat it.
If the hearts of the world – our hearts – take their orders only from defilements and suffering, then no matter what our race, class or nationality we won’t be able to find happiness and peace in the world at all, because our hearts have no Buddhist teachings to give them relief.
Buddhist teachings are teachings that adhere to the principles of cause and effect. In its most basic sense, the Buddhist religion means cause and effect combined. To believe in the religion means to believe in the correct principles of cause and effect, and not to resist them. If we practice in line with these principles, there will be a way to reduce the pain and suffering of the world, both within and without.
People who don’t have any religious principles inside – no matter where they live, no matter how well-educated or how wealthy they may be – cannot find any happiness. They cannot set down the burdens of their hearts for even a moment because they have no place to set them down. Where could they pos- sibly set them down? All they have is a flaming mass of defilements, made up of their insatiable desires. Each of their desires creates pain and suffering, which then turns around to burn them. But for the most part, they fail to meet with the things they want, and instead keep meeting with things they don’t want. This is the direction in which the defilements lead the beings of the world.
But when we let the power of cause and effect – the power of the Dhamma – take the lead, then even though we meet with some pain and difficulties by going against the defilements when following the way of reason, the even- tual results will give us enough happiness and pleasure to relax and unwind our sufferings. This is why the religion is an extremely essential teaching for people’s hearts. We human beings – who are more intelligent than the other beings of the world – should have the teachings of the religion as a treasure to adorn and protect our thoughts, words and deeds, making the various aspects of our behavior beautiful to the eye and cooling to the heart.
The religion is an offshoot of pure Dhamma. It branches off from the superlative Dhamma – the marvelous Dhamma discovered by the Buddha – and takes the form of a prescription that says, “Do this… Don’t do that,” and so forth, so that we can follow it and not be at odds with the path of Dhamma. Once we trust the principle of cause and effect, then no matter how difficult the path may be we give it our best, even when it goes against the grain. Actually, going against the grain means going against the defilements, which are the enemies of the Dhamma. In other words, doing those things that are in keep- ing with the Dhamma goes against the grain of the defilements. So happiness, peace and calm are bound to follow.
I’ll give you an example: Suppose you think about something today that gets you all worked up and upset. Your entire heart becomes a mass of flame. This is especially true if it is something that has really annoyed you and made you indignant. The mind gets wrapped up in the things that annoy it and make it upset. Day and night, sitting, standing, walking and lying down, you won’t let them go. You take them, instead of your meditation object, as your preoccupa- tion, so how can the result be happiness? It has to be fire, burning continuously – because the matter itself is fire, and your thoughts about it are fire, so how can you expect them to result in any ‘water’ at all? They’ll have to result in more fire; there are no two ways about it. The more you persist in dwelling on them, the more you damage your own heart. The final result is that you can’t eat or sleep and hardly have enough presence of mind to put a stop to your thoughts. There are many cases where people go crazy in this way, destroyed by the things they think about.
What causes this destruction? Affairs of the defilements, not the affairs of Dhamma. For this reason, when you resist thinking about bad things, when you block bad trains of thought with mindfulness and break them off with wisdom – even though it’s difficult and goes against the grain – the result you can expect is mental peace, or at least enough mindfulness to contemplate the proper path to follow. You can then evaluate what’s right and what’s wrong concerning the topic you’ve been thinking about and see why you felt compelled to think about it in the first place. “You know it’s no good, so why think about it? Can’t you straighten yourself out for your own good?”
This is how reason – the principle of cause and effect – deals with the matter. All its deliberations are for the sake of seeing the harm of those preoc- cupations, since pain and suffering are already clearly obvious in the thoughts of your hot and troubled heart. “If you persist in dwelling on it any further, what’s going to happen to you? As it is, the suffering is already blatant. If you keep thinking in that way, won’t it grow until it overflows your heart? How will you be able to hold up under the strain? If you keep thinking in that way, the suffering will just keep growing. Where will you find the strength to withstand the suffering your thoughts keep churning out about the things that have you so upset? Are you still going to keep thinking about them? Are you still going to keep piling more and more suffering on yourself?”
Just thinking in this way is enough to bring the mind to its senses. And as soon as the mind comes to its senses, it can begin to calm down and rein itself in. It can try to let go of that preoccupation by using reason to push itself away and bring its thought processes under control. The suffering that resulted from those thoughts will also be brought under control, because the causes – those hot, burning thoughts – have been curbed. And you’re able to curb them be- cause mindfulness has reined them in. This is enough to show that your ability to resist those thoughts with mindfulness and evaluate them with wisdom gives calm and peace to the heart. And at that point, the suffering is curbed and dis- appears.
Although the heart can be hard to restrain, hard to control, we should try to think up strategies for unburdening it in this way. Admittedly this is difficult, but it’s a difficulty of the right path, for it results in well-being and happiness.
The affair is no longer troubling and upsetting, so our sufferings stop piling on. We have a chance to relax and unburden ourselves of those burning embers – pain and suffering in the heart. This is one principle we can use in evaluating all the bad things that come our way.
For example, suppose that people curse you or spread gossip about you. You don’t know how many days, how many months ago that curse or that gossip passed through their lips and out of their memory, but you find out about it to- day and immediately get upset. Actually, you don’t know how many months or years ago the breath with which they cursed you or gossiped about you passed through their lips, but now a new breath passes through somebody else’s lips and into your ears: “They said this about you… Mr. X and Ms. Y said these aw- ful things about you.” This second breath is the one you grab onto for no good reason and end up burning yourself with it. This is because of your own wrong assumptions. If that second person hadn’t told you, your heart would have been perfectly fine, even though those other people actually said those things about you. At the time it happened, you didn’t feel anything at all, because your heart hadn’t stirred itself up to be aware of those things. Your mind was in its normal state, unaffected by pain or distress.
If we’re mindful when people say these sorts of things, we immediately realize that nothing good can come of it, so why should we grab hold of it to defile the mind? We’ve already had experience with dirty things, haven’t we?
When we walk along a road and come across something dirty, we give it a wide berth. We don’t want to touch it, not even with the soles of our feet, because we know that there’s nothing good about it. If we touch it, we’re sure to get dirty too. So why do we like to let the mind roll around in things we know are dirty? Why do we like to mess with them and think about them? It’s stupid to let ourselves get worked up over such things to the point where the entire mind is defiled and burning hot.
When we think in this way, we can put a stop to those thoughts and con- cerns. The moment we start thinking about them again, mindfulness is there – quick and alert – so that we can let them go, instead of holding onto them to burn the heart again and again.
If you use this principle of Dhamma as a medicine to protect yourself in all your activities, your mind can keep its equilibrium and will rarely ever harm itself with the things that make contact through your senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. Even if the thoughts that arise exclusively in the mind disturb you with unpleasant memories from the past, you’ll be able to shake them off immediately because mindfulness and wisdom are right there with the heart. You get immediate results as soon as you put them to use. Problems arise only when we completely forget our protectors – mindfulness and wisdom – and let bad things come in and trample our hearts so that we must endure the resulting pain. If we could admit the fact that suffering comes from our own stupidity and heedlessness, there would be no reason to complain about it.
In fact, people all over the world do complain. Why? Because they don’t want to suffer. If they don’t want to suffer, then why do they keep thinking in ways that lead to suffering? Because they aren’t alert to what’s happening inside themselves. When this is the case, what can they use to be alert to these things? They have to use mindfulness and wisdom to keep up with what’s happening inside the mind. In that way, they can hold on to at least something for them- selves in the beginning stages of the practice. With constant practice, they’ll eventually be able to keep up with everything that happens inside the mind.
This is how we use Buddhist principles to deal with our minds. If all of us in the world used reason as our guide, in both our internal and external affairs, we would all understand and avoid anything that posed a danger to us indi- vidually or to the common good. We wouldn’t persist in destroying ourselves and others by flirting recklessly with dangerous mental states. At the same time, we’d reflect in ways that produce benefit to ourselves and the common good. The whole world would prosper and flourish, and we’d all be happy and at peace. When we take Buddhist principles as our guide, they lead us in the di- rection of peace through correct practice in line with the principle of cause and effect, which is a universal principle leading to the prosperity of the world.
This is why the religion is something essential for enabling us to live to- gether. In the present, we can be happy and secure, free from trouble and tur- moil in body and mind. If the religion spreads out through society so that each person feels this way, the world will be at peace. When we turn to consider the future state of the mind – what trouble can the mind come to when it holds to reason as its basic principle, when it has Dhamma within? After all, the mind itself produces its own troubles. So if it doesn’t produce trouble for itself, and if it has the Dhamma as its protection, then no matter what world the mind goes to after death, it won’t be oppressed by pain and suffering.
The principles of Dhamma teach that a mind possessing inner quality is unlikely to be reborn in a place where it will meet with suffering and pain, be- cause it hasn’t made the type of kamma that could force it to go there. All it has is the goodness – the inner worth – that will support it and convey it to good destinations, one after another. That’s what its future holds in store.
A person who practices Dhamma, who has Dhamma in the heart, is far different from a person without any Dhamma. Even though they both may live in the same world and have the same sort of appearance, the differences in their knowledge, thoughts, views and actions are enormous, so there is no way they can expect to receive similar results. The results must differ just like the causes. This has been true from time immemorial.
This is why the Buddha said: “Kamma is what differentiates beings, from the basest to the most refined.” These differences do not arise from anything outside of kamma, which is why kamma is the biggest issue facing living be- ings. Why is it big? Because each of us is constantly creating kamma. Even if we don’t realize that we’re creating kamma, the good and bad results that come from our actions cannot be avoided.
What is kamma? The word kamma means action. Our thoughts are called mental kamma; our words, verbal kamma; our deeds, bodily kamma. In each case, we are the ones who constantly perform such actions, so how can we expect to prevent the consequences of those actions from arising in the future? And as we are constantly producing good and evil actions, the moral conse- quences of those actions have the power to determine where we will be reborn in the future. In this respect, there’s no power acting over and above the results of the kamma we ourselves have made. There’s no power greater than the re- sults of our own actions. These results are what support us or oppress us after the kamma has been done. This is what the principles of the religion teach. They don’t have us believe in the power of anything outside of the good and bad activity of our thoughts, words and deeds. This is where our insurance and our guarantee lie. So this, and only this, is what can either destroy or help us. Nothing else can destroy or help us at all.
Our bad thoughts, words and deeds are the means by which we destroy ourselves. Our good thoughts, words and deeds are the means by which we help and foster ourselves. The way which we can ensure that we won’t fall into undesirable situations lies here, and only here – in the principle of kamma. There’s no power higher than this, which is why we shouldn’t harbor unreason- able fears about this or that.
The things we should fear most are any thoughts, words and deeds which create dangers for us. We should realize that the true danger is what’s coming out in our thoughts, words and deeds right now. If we aren’t willing to come to our senses and straighten ourselves out, these acts will constitute the most seri- ous danger we face, not only now but on into the future, until the kamma we’ve done reaches the end of its power and effectiveness. That’s when the danger and suffering will end.
If we believe in the religion, we have to believe in the principle of kamma and the results that spring from it. Is there anyone among us who has gone be- yond creating kamma? No one at all. Each of us has to create kamma. Whether or not we believe in Buddhism, we’re all creating kamma. It is a principle of the nature of action inherent within us, a principle of cause and effect cor- rectly taught by the Buddha when he said that all of us have our kamma. We can believe this or not as we like, but that has no power to erase the truth of kamma. There is no way that either kamma or its results can be erased. Kamma has to remain as kamma and give good or bad results throughout each lifetime. There’s no power above kamma and its results, which come from our own good and bad actions. So we shouldn’t harbor blind and unreasonable fears. If you’re afraid of hell, you should be afraid of the pit you’re digging right now in your heart. That’s the important one, the real pit of hell!
 The factor that causes the fires of hell to burn you is right there in your heart. So come to your senses and use mindfulness and wisdom to investigate the fac- tors of your mind that are think- ing wrongly and creating danger, or thinking rightly and creating inner quality within your heart. Make your choices here and follow them through carefully so that there will be no more dangers for you or any other beings in the world.
So then. Is the religion really necessary? Right here is where we should decide. The person who taught us the religion – the Buddha – fully knew the ways of kamma and its results. There’s no way you can dispute with him. He knew everything of every sort concerning his own kamma and that of other living beings, as well as the results of his own kamma and that of all living be- ings throughout the three levels of existence. No one else can even try to reach the full extent of his knowledge of kamma. He proclaimed these truths so that we could conduct ourselves without error – unless of course we go against his teachings by doing things that are bad, so that the results end up going against our wishes and lead to disappointment and suffering. Right here is where the basic principle lies.
Which is why I said: If we in the world have the teachings of the religion in our hearts, then no matter how much suffering we meet, we’ll have a place to put it down. It’s comparable to a disease. If we can treat it with medicine, instead of simply letting it follow the full course of its strength, there’s a chance for us to recover.




Human Values and Human Worth | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Human Values and Human Worth | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

Dhamma is something very profound. If the world did not have Dhamma as water to put out its fires, it would be a very difficult place – an impossible place – to live. Dhamma is something that the heart can hold to, something that nourishes the heart, enabling people to be good and to find peace. The religion, the aspect of Dhamma we can describe to one another, is simply the good and right teaching of the Buddha, which can guide societies and nations as well as individuals, like our families and ourselves. It’s unequalled in producing good and noble qualities in the hearts of people everywhere. Any home, any family, any individual without the religion, without moral virtue to protect and train the heart, is sure to be constantly troubled and restless, lacking any sense of well-being and equilibrium. Quarrels tend to flare up in families like this and then spread out into society – to the neighborhood and the workplace. Our inability to get along with one another comes, for the most part, from going against the principles of morality, which are correct, noble and good.

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled Visions of a Samana. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Ajahn Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.

This audio version is narrated by Sol Hanna.

Human Values and Human Worth by Ajahn Maha Boowa is a Forest Dhamma Publication / March 2011.

All commercial rights reserved. © 2011 Bhikkhu Dick Silaratano.

Dhamma should not be sold like goods in the market place. Permission to reproduce this publication in any way for free distribution, as a gift of Dhamma, is hereby granted and no further permission need be obtained. Reproduction in any way for commercial gain is strictly prohibited. Cover and interior design by Mae Chee Melita Halim.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Luangta Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.


Human Values And Human Worth
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
Dhamma is something very profound. If the world did not have Dhamma as water to put out its fires, it would be a very difficult place – an impossible place – to live. Dhamma is something that the heart can hold to, something that nourishes the heart, enabling people to be good and to find peace. The religion, the aspect of Dhamma we can describe to one another, is simply the good and right teaching of the Buddha, which can guide societies and nations as well as individuals, like our families and ourselves. It’s unequalled in producing good and noble qualities in the hearts of people everywhere. Any home, any family, any individual without the religion, without moral virtue to protect and train the heart, is sure to be constantly troubled and restless, lacking any sense of well-being and equilibrium. Quarrels tend to flare up in families like this and then spread out into society – to the neighborhood and the workplace. Our inability to get along with one another comes, for the most part, from going against the principles of morality, which are correct, noble and good.
In particular, when a husband and wife have trouble getting along with each other, it’s because one or the other has gone beyond the bounds of two principles taught by the Buddha: contentment with one’s possessions while not infringing on those of others, and fewness of wants. In other words, if you have one spouse, don’t try to have two, because once you have two, they’re bound to become archrivals.
What sort of “fewness of wants” do we mean here? I remember several years back, on the front pages of the newspapers – and it was really disturbing to see – a top government official made an announcement telling monks that the two principles of contentment and fewness of wants shouldn’t be taught to people because both of these principles were acting as a deadweight on the nation’s economy, which the government was trying to develop at the time. According to him, these two principles were at odds with economic prosperity. This was many years back, but I haven’t forgotten it – because it was something disturbing that was hard to forget. Actually, these two principles don’t mean
at all what he thought they did. They’re principles that people in general, lay as well as ordained, should put into practice in line with their position in life. There’s no word, no phrase of the Dhamma at odds with the progress of the world. In fact, the Dhamma gives the world nothing but support and protec- tion.
For a monk – a son of the Buddha – these two principles mean that he shouldn’t be greedy for the four necessities of life: 1) Clothing, which comes from the generosity of lay people; 2) Food. No matter what kind of food it is, a monk can’t acquire it on his own. He has to depend on others to look after his needs in this area, from the day of his ordination to his last day as a monk;
3) Shelter; and 4) Medicine.
 
All of these requisites are provided in good faith by people in general. A monk shouldn’t be greedy for them, because that would go against the basic principles of the Dhamma taught by the Buddha. A monk should be modest in his needs. This is the proper way for him to act – in keeping with the fact that he depends on other people to look after his needs – so that he won’t be too great a burden on people of good faith. A monk shouldn’t clutter his mind with concern for material necessities, which are simply means to keep the body go- ing so that he can comfortably perform his duties as a contemplative.
As for lay people, the principle of fewness of wants means being content with one’s family life. One husband should have one wife. One wife should have one husband. One husband should have only one wife – not two or three, which would act like a fire spreading to consume himself and his family. This is what it means to have fewness of wants – not being greedy for thrills that would stoke fire in the home and not dabbling in the many desires that added together wage war with one another.
A husband and wife should be honest with each other. Loyal and commit- ted. Faithful to each other at all times and in all places, they should keep no se- crets from each other but be open and above-board with pure and loyal hearts. If one of them has to work outside the home or be away for the night, he or
she should go with a clean heart and clean hands, and come back without the blemish of any stains. If one of them has to go away on business, no matter how far, it should be done in such a way that the one at home needn’t worry or be troubled that the one going away is doing anything wrong and neglecting the principle of fewness of wants by sleeping with someone outside the legitimate account. Worries like these are worse than a hundred spirits returning from the dead to grab a person’s entrails and squeeze them to bits. If a husband or wife must go away for a long time, it should be for reasons that aim at maintaining the family in happiness and joy.
When a husband and wife are faithful to each other in this way, then no matter where they go, neither suffers from worry or distrust. They live together smoothly and happily to the end of their lives because their hearts are honest and loyal to each other. Even if there are times when they have barely enough to scrape by, that isn’t important. The important point lies in their being honest, faithful and committed to each other. Such a family may be rich or poor, but the happiness, security and trust its members feel for one another give them the stability and cohesion that everyone hopes for. This is called fewness of wants in a marriage relationship. One husband. One wife. No outside involvements. Even though other men and women fill the world, they don’t become involved. This is fewness of wants for lay people.
If this principle of fewness of wants were to be erased from the world, human beings would know no bounds, and we wouldn’t be any different from dogs in heat. Have you ever seen them? Here in the northeast of Thailand, they get going in August and September, barking and howling like crazy. There’s no telling which one is which one’s husband and which one is which one’s wife. They bite one another to shreds. Have you ever seen them, every August and September? When they really get going they run all over the place with no sense of day or night, home or away, no concern for whether or not they get fed. They go after each other worse than when they’re rabid. If we human beings were to let ourselves run loose like that, we’d cause even worse damage than they do because we have guns and weapons to shoot and kill one another, thanks to the
fact that we’re smarter than they are. The world would be a shambles, and there wouldn’t be enough room for us all in the prisons. This is the harm that comes from letting oneself go under the unruly power of sexual lust. There’d be no such word as “enough”, and certainly dogs in heat would be no match for us.
Dogs have no limits when lust takes over. They can go anywhere with no fear of death, no concern for hunger or thirst. They run wild, without a thought for their owners. At most, they may stop by their homes for a moment. If anyone feeds them in time, they eat. If not, they’re off and running. And look at them. What do they look like at times like this? Ears torn, mouths torn, legs torn, stom- achs ripped open in some cases, all from the fights they get into. Some of them die, some of them go crazy, some of them never return home.
This is the sort of harm that occurs when animals fall under the power of lust. Because it’s so different from their normal nature, when they behave like that, it’s not pretty to look at. When the season comes, males and females go running wild after one another. The fires of lust and anger burn together and consume everything. This is what happens when animals know no bounds; that is, when their lust knows no limits. They suffer so much pain, so much distress when the disease of lust flares up – to the extent that some of them die or are crippled for life.
If we human beings didn’t have the Dhamma of fewness of wants as a brake to safeguard our own safety, we’d know no limits in following our in- stincts either. Because of our intelligence, we’d cause much more harm and destruction to one another than animals do. When we’re intelligent in the right way, it’s an honor and a benefit to ourselves, our family and nation. But human intelligence is something that lends itself to all sorts of uses; and for the most part, if our minds are low, it becomes a tool for doing a great deal of evil. It’s because of our intelligence that we human beings can do one another so much harm.
This is why we need moral virtue as a guide and protection, so that we can live together happily and in peace. Between husbands and wives, this means
being faithful to each other. Don’t go looking for scraps and leftovers like our friends in August and September. That’s not a course of action that human be- ings – who know enough to have a sense of right and wrong, good and bad
– should put into practice. Otherwise we’ll destroy, or at the very least reduce, the honor of our human status. Worse than that, we’ll ruin ourselves to the point of having absolutely no worth.
To give in to the moods of our inner fires, looking for scraps and leftovers in bars, night clubs, massage parlors and other places catering to this sort of thing, is to destroy our inner virtue as human beings, because it’s nothing more than the way of animals who know no bounds of propriety but know only how to get carried away with their passion and bite one another to shreds. For this reason, it’s not a course we human beings should follow – and especially when we’re married – because it contradicts the family bounds we’ve established in line with the universally recognized moral principles of human beings.
 To act without restraint in this way would do such damage to a spouse’s heart that no treatment could cure the sorrow and bring the heart back to nor- mal. So husbands and wives who cherish each other’s worth should never do this sort of thing. Love can quickly turn to hatred, and spouses turn to enemies, when we disobey the principle of fewness of wants. To lack this principle is to lack an important guarantee for the family’s well-being.
The principle of fewness of wants is not an insignifi- cant one. It’s one that allows a husband and wife to keep a firm and stable hold on each other’s hearts throughout time, one by which they can be loyal to each other in a way that will never fade. The money the family earns will all flow together into one place, and not go leaking out to feed the vultures and crows of sensual desire. No matter how much is spent, every penny goes toward the family’s well-being.
The wealth gained by the family thus becomes a source of joy for them. Its expenditure is reasonable, benefiting both parents and children, so that its true value is realized.
This is why the Buddha teaches us to train our hearts in the way of the Dhamma. The heart is very important. A stable heart means stable wealth. If the heart is unstable, our wealth is unstable as well. It will leak away day and night, because the heart creates the leak and can’t keep hold of anything at all. When a water jar is still intact, it can serve its full purpose. The minute it begins to crack, its usefulness is reduced; and when it breaks, there’s no further use for it. The same holds true with a marriage. One’s spouse is very important. There is no greater foundation for the wealth, security and happiness of the family than a relationship where both sides are honest, loyal and faithful to each other. So I ask that you put these principles into practice in yourself, your family and your work so that they lead you to lasting happiness and peace. Don’t let yourself stray from the principles of moral virtue that protect and maintain your own inner worth, together with your family’s peace and contentment.
The defilement of sexual craving, if left to itself, knows virtually no limits or sense of reason. As the Buddha said: “There is no river equal to craving.” Rivers, seas and oceans, no matter how vast and deep, still have their banks, their shores, their islands and sandbars, but sensual craving has no limits, no islands or banks, no means for keeping itself within the bounds of moderation and propriety. It flows day and night, flooding its banks in the heart at all times. If we didn’t have the teachings of moral virtue as a levee to keep it in check, the world would be in total chaos due to the pull of craving and jealousy. If we were to let sexual desire run wild, we’d be much more fierce than our friends in August and September, wiping one another out under the influence of sexual desire. On top of that, we would make such a display of our stupidity that we’d be the laughingstock of the animal kingdom. So for the sake of maintaining our honor as human beings and so that we won’t be seen as fools in the eyes of our fellow animals, we must hold to moral virtue as our guide in knowing the proper bounds for our conduct as it affects both us and our families.
Moral virtue means behavior that is noble and good. It’s a quality that gives security and stability to the world, a quality that the world has wanted all along. It’s one of the highest forms of nourishment for the heart. Moral virtue is the aspect of reason that guarantees the correctness of our behavior; a quality which the beings of the world trust and never criticize – for it lies beyond criti- cism. Suppose we earn five dollars. However many dollars we spend, we spend them reasonably, not wastefully. If we earn one dollar, a hundred, a thousand, a million, we use reason in deciding how to spend or save our earnings so that we can benefit from them in line with their worth, in line with the fact that they have value in meeting our needs and providing for our happiness.
But if the heart leaks, if it lacks principles, our earnings will vanish like water from a leaky pot. No matter how much we earn, all will be wasted. Here I’m not talking about spending our wealth in ways that are useful and good. That’s not called being wasteful. I’m talking about spending it in ways that serve no real purpose, in ways that can actually harm us. Wealth spent in those ways becomes a poison, a means for ruining its foolish owner in a way that is really shameful. People like this can’t get any real use out of their wealth, simply because they lack the moral virtue that would ensure their security and that of their belongings. As a result, they bring disaster on themselves, their posses- sions and everything else that should give them happiness.
This is why it is so crucial to have moral virtue. A family with moral virtue as its guide and protection is secure. Its members can talk to one another. In- stead of being stubborn and willful, they are willing to listen to one another’s reasons, ensuring the smooth and proper course of their work and the other aspects of their life together. Just observing the five precepts faithfully is enough to bring peace in the family. The five precepts are like an overcoat to protect us from the cold, an umbrella to protect us from the rain or a safe to protect our valuables. Maintaining them protects the hearts of family members, especially the husband and wife, and keeps them from being damaged or destroyed by the unbounded force of craving.
 The first precept speaks against killing living beings: The lives of all living beings – ours or any- one else’s – are of equal worth. Each animal’s life is of equal worth with the life of a human being, for if life is taken away from an animal, it can no longer remain an animal. If life is taken away from a person, he or she can no longer be a person. In
other words, the continuity of the animal’s being or of the person’s being is bro- ken right then in just the same way. We are taught not to destroy one another’s lives because to do so is to destroy completely the value of one another’s being. Death is a fear striking deeper than any other fear into the heart of each animal and every person. This is why the Buddha teaches us to keep our hands off the lives of our fellow living beings.
The second precept speaks against stealing: To steal, to take things that haven’t been given by their owner, is to mistreat not only the owners’ belong- ings, but also his or her heart. This is a very great evil, and one that we should never commit.
When talking of other people’s belongings, even a single needle counts as a belonging. Personal belongings and their owner’s heart are both things of value. Every person cherishes his or her belongings. If the belonging is stolen, the owner is bound to feel hurt. The heart is the important factor here, more important than the item stolen. Losing a possession through theft feels very differ- ent from willingly giving it away. Feelings of regret, combined with the desire for re- venge, can lead people to kill one another, even over a single needle. Because the is- sue of ownership is taken very seriously by people, we are taught not to steal. Theft has a devastating effect on the owner’s heart – and that’s a serious matter.
The act of stealing and the act of voluntary giving are two very different matters. When it’s a question of voluntary
giving, any amount is easy to part with. To say nothing of a single needle, we can be happy even when giving things away by the hundreds or thousands or millions. The person giving is happy and cheerful, the person receiving is pleased to no end, and both sides are blessed, as has always been the case when the people of the world aid and assist one another.
The Dhamma treats all hearts as equals. It holds that each being’s heart is of value to that being, which is why it teaches us not to mistreat the hearts of others by taking their lives, stealing their belongings or having illicit sex with their spouses or children. All of these things have the heart of a living being as their owner. No good is accomplished by stealing the goods and provoking the hearts of others, because once the heart is provoked, it can be more violent than anything else. The murders that are committed everywhere usually have a sense of indignation, of having been wronged, as their motivating force. This is why the Buddha teaches us to follow moral virtue as a way of showing respect for one another’s hearts and belongings.
This means that we should not abuse one another’s hearts by doing im- moral actions. For example, to kill a person is to devastate that person’s heart and body, which also has a devastating effect on others close to that person who will want to seek revenge. That person dies, but his friends and family still live, which ends up causing them to seek revenge, in turn causing further re- venge going back and forth in an endless cycle for eons and eons.
The third precept speaks against illicit sex: All parents love their children; all husbands love their wives; all wives love their husbands. In any family, there is no greater love than that between the husband and wife. The husband and wife stake their lives on each other as if they were parts of the same body. There is no greater love in the family than his for her or hers for him. Their love is great and so is their sense of attachment and possessiveness. There is no other be- longing that either of them cherishes nearly as much. If either of them is unfaith- ful or untrue to the other, looking outside for scraps and leftovers like a hungry mongrel, the other will feel more sorrow and disappointment than words can describe. It’s like having one’s chest slashed open and one’s heart ripped out and scattered all over the place – even though one hasn’t yet died. That’s how much the wronged spouse will suffer.
If any of you are thinking of mistreating your spouse in this way, I ask that you first take a good long look at the teachings of the religion – the foremost Dhamma of the foremost Teacher – to see what kind of teachings they are, what kind of teacher he was, and why great sages honor and revere him so highly. As for the defilement of sexual craving, are there any sages who honor and revere it as anything special? So why is it that we honor and revere it so much? When you start considering in this way, you’ll be able to resist and avoid these defilements at least to some extent. At the very least, you’ll be one of the more civilized members of the circle of those who still have defilements in their hearts. Your spouse will be able to sleep peacefully, secure and proud, instead of swallowing tears of misery – which is the direction the world is heedlessly rushing everywhere you look. You are people in society. You have sharper eyes than the old monk sitting before you here saying this with his eyes and ears closed, so surely you’ve seen what I’m talking about.
For the sake of mutual honor and smooth relations between husband and wife, there are some duties in the family where he should be in charge, and
which she shouldn’t interfere with unless he asks for her help. There are other duties where she should be in charge, and which he shouldn’t interfere with unless she asks for his help. Each should let the other be in charge of whatever the other is best at. Each should honor and show deference to the other and not curse the other. Always show respect when you speak of your spouse’s family. Never speak of them with contempt. Even though there may be times when your opinions conflict, keep the issue between just the two of you. Don’t go dragging in each other’s family background, for that would be to show con- tempt for your spouse’s heart in a way that can’t be forgotten, and can lead to a split in the family – something neither of you wants.
When differences of opinion come between you, don’t be quick to feel anger or hatred. Think of the past, before you were married, and of how much you suffered from fear that your engagement would fall through. On top of that, think of all the trouble your families were put to as well. Now that you are mar- ried, in line with your hopes, you should care for your union to see that it lasts as long as you both are alive.
By becoming husband and wife, you willingly gave your lives to each other. If any issue arises between the two of you, think of it as teeth biting the tongue – they lie close together, so it’s only normal that they should get in the way of each other now and then. Both of you share responsibility for each other, so you should regard your stability together as more important than the small issues between you that might hurt your relationship.
Always remember that both of you have left your parents and now each of you holds to the other as parent, friend and life-mate. Whatever you do, think of the heart of your owner – that is, the wife is the owner of the husband, and the husband the owner of the wife – and don’t do anything that would hurt your owner’s feelings. Anything without an owner to look after it, no matter what, tends to be unsafe, so always think of your owner. Don’t be heedless or lax in your behavior, and your family will then be stable and secure.
All of this is part of the principle of fewness of wants. If you take this prin- ciple to heart, you can go wherever you like with a clear heart – whether your work keeps you at home or takes you away – for each of you can trust the other. The earnings you gain can provide for the family’s happiness because you go in all honesty and work in all honesty for the sake of the family’s well-being, contentment and peace.
Even if the family is lacking in some things – in line with the principle of impermanence – it’s not nearly as serious as when a husband or wife starts looking outside. That’s something very destructive. When a family has this sort of problem lurking inside it, then even if it has millions in the bank, it won’t be able to find any happiness. But a family that lives by the principle of fewness of wants – keeping your husband in mind, keeping your wife in mind, keeping in mind what belongs to you and what belongs to others, without overstepping your bounds – is sure to be happy and at peace. Even if things may be lacking at times, the family can live in contentment.
The family relationship between husband and wife is the important factor in our lives as human beings. If this is sound, then when children are born they won’t bear the emotional scars of having their parents fight over the issues that arise when one of them goes out of bounds. When parents argue over other things – a lack of this or that or whatever – it’s not too serious and can be taken as normal. But quarrelling over infidelity is very serious and embarrasses ev- eryone in the family. So for this reason, you should always be very strict with yourself in this matter. Don’t let yourself be heedless or lax in your behavior. As for quarrelling about other matters, you should be careful about that too. When parents quarrel for any reason, the children can’t look one another in the face. When they go to school or out with their friends, they can’t look their friends in the face, because of their embarrassment.
The fourth precept speaks against lying: Why did the Buddha teach us not to lie? Let’s think about it. Is there anything good about lying? Suppose every- one in the country, everyone in the world, lied to one another whenever they met. Wherever you’d go, there’d be nothing but lies. You wouldn’t be able to get the truth out of anyone at all. If this were the case, how could we human beings live with one another? It would be impossible. If we couldn’t get any truth or honesty from one another, we wouldn’t be able to live together. So in order that friends, husbands, wives, parents, children and people throughout society can live together and trust one another, we need to be honest and hold to truthfulness as a basic principle in all our dealings. Society will then have a strong foundation.
Here I’m giving just a short explanation of the fourth precept so that you will see how great the value of truthfulness is. People live together in harmony because of truthfulness, not because of lies and dishonesty. Lies are very de- structive to the world. People who hope for one another’s well-being should be entirely honest and truthful in their dealings. Lies are like disembodied spirits that deceive people and eat away at social values. This is why a society of good people despises those who tell lies and does its best to keep them out of its midst. The only people who like lying are those who harvest their crops from the hearts and livers of others; in other words, those who make their living by fraud and deceit. Thus, lying is a means of livelihood only for evil people, but is of absolutely no use to good people. The Buddha taught us not to lie because lies are like executioners waiting to torture people and bring them to a bad end.
The fifth precept speaks against drinking alcohol: What is alcohol? Alcohol here refers to any intoxicant. It changes the person who takes it from a full hu- man being to one with something lacking. The more we take it, the more we’re lacking, to the point where we become raving lunatics. When we were newly born, our parents never gave us alcohol to drink. They gave us only healthy, nu- tritious things like food and mother’s milk. We were able to grow to adulthood because of our mothers’ milk and the other good nutritious foods our parents gave us. But after having grown up on good nutritious food, we then take alco- hol and other intoxicants to poison and drug ourselves. Exactly where this adds to the value of our status as human beings is something I have yet to see.
Think about this for a minute: Suppose that all of us sitting here were drunk, from old Grandfather Boowa on down. Suppose we were all roaring drunk, sprawled all over the roadsides. Everywhere you went, there’d be people defecating and urinating in their pants all over the place, with no ordinary hu- man sense of shame or embarrassment. Could you stand to look at it? If alcohol were really good, as people like to pretend it is, wouldn’t then good people ex- press their admiration for drunkards sprawled all over the roadsides, their urine and excrement covering themselves and their surroundings? “These drunkards are really outstanding, aren’t they? They don’t have to look for a place to def- ecate. They can do it right in their pants. Ordinary people can’t do that. These drunkards are really extraordinary, aren’t they?” Would they ever say anything like this?
This is why the Buddha cautioned us against drinking alcohol. He didn’t want people all over the nation to be crazy, ruining their good human manners and ruining their work. A drunk person is no different from a dead person. He can’t do any work – aside from boasting. He damages his intelligence and finds it easy to do anything at all with no sense of conscience or deference, no fear of evil or the results of kamma, no respect for people or places at all. He can go anywhere and say anything with no sense of shame or embarrassment. A drunk
arise when one of them goes out of bounds. When parents argue over other things – a lack of this or that or whatever – it’s not too serious and can be taken as normal. But quarrelling over infidelity is very serious and embarrasses ev- eryone in the family. So for this reason, you should always be very strict with yourself in this matter. Don’t let yourself be heedless or lax in your behavior. As for quarrelling about other matters, you should be careful about that too. When parents quarrel for any reason, the children can’t look one another in the face. When they go to school or out with their friends, they can’t look their friends in the face, because of their embarrassment.
The fourth precept speaks against lying: Why did the Buddha teach us not to lie? Let’s think about it. Is there anything good about lying? Suppose every- one in the country, everyone in the world, lied to one another whenever they met. Wherever you’d go, there’d be nothing but lies. You wouldn’t be able to get the truth out of anyone at all. If this were the case, how could we human beings live with one another? It would be impossible. If we couldn’t get any truth or honesty from one another, we wouldn’t be able to live together. So in order that friends, husbands, wives, parents, children and people throughout society can live together and trust one another, we need to be honest and hold to truthfulness as a basic principle in all our dealings. Society will then have a strong foundation.
Here I’m giving just a short explanation of the fourth precept so that you will see how great the value of truthfulness is. People live together in harmony because of truthfulness, not because of lies and dishonesty. Lies are very de- structive to the world. People who hope for one another’s well-being should be entirely honest and truthful in their dealings. Lies are like disembodied spirits that deceive people and eat away at social values. This is why a society of good people despises those who tell lies and does its best to keep them out of its midst. The only people who like lying are those who harvest their crops from the hearts and livers of others; in other words, those who make their living by fraud and deceit. Thus, lying is a means of livelihood only for evil people, but is of absolutely no use to good people. The Buddha taught us not to lie because
lies are like executioners waiting to torture people and bring them to a bad end.
The fifth precept speaks against drinking alcohol: What is alcohol? Alcohol here refers to any intoxicant. It changes the person who takes it from a full hu- man being to one with something lacking. The more we take it, the more we’re lacking, to the point where we become raving lunatics. When we were newly born, our parents never gave us alcohol to drink. They gave us only healthy, nu- tritious things like food and mother’s milk. We were able to grow to adulthood because of our mothers’ milk and the other good nutritious foods our parents gave us. But after having grown up on good nutritious food, we then take alco- hol and other intoxicants to poison and drug ourselves. Exactly where this adds to the value of our status as human beings is something I have yet to see.
Think about this for a minute: Suppose that all of us sitting here were drunk, from old Grandfather Boowa on down. Suppose we were all roaring drunk, sprawled all over the roadsides. Everywhere you went, there’d be people defecating and urinating in their pants all over the place, with no ordinary hu- man sense of shame or embarrassment. Could you stand to look at it? If alcohol were really good, as people like to pretend it is, wouldn’t then good people ex- press their admiration for drunkards sprawled all over the roadsides, their urine and excrement covering themselves and their surroundings? “These drunkards are really outstanding, aren’t they? They don’t have to look for a place to def- ecate. They can do it right in their pants. Ordinary people can’t do that. These drunkards are really extraordinary, aren’t they?” Would they ever say anything like this?
This is why the Buddha cautioned us against drinking alcohol. He didn’t want people all over the nation to be crazy, ruining their good human manners and ruining their work. A drunk person is no different from a dead person. He can’t do any work – aside from boasting. He damages his intelligence and finds it easy to do anything at all with no sense of conscience or deference, no fear of evil or the results of kamma, no respect for people or places at all. He can go anywhere and say anything with no sense of shame or embarrassment. A drunk
arise when one of them goes out of bounds. When parents argue over other things – a lack of this or that or whatever – it’s not too serious and can be taken as normal. But quarrelling over infidelity is very serious and embarrasses ev- eryone in the family. So for this reason, you should always be very strict with yourself in this matter. Don’t let yourself be heedless or lax in your behavior. As for quarrelling about other matters, you should be careful about that too. When parents quarrel for any reason, the children can’t look one another in the face. When they go to school or out with their friends, they can’t look their friends in the face, because of their embarrassment.
The fourth precept speaks against lying: Why did the Buddha teach us not to lie? Let’s think about it. Is there anything good about lying? Suppose every- one in the country, everyone in the world, lied to one another whenever they met. Wherever you’d go, there’d be nothing but lies. You wouldn’t be able to get the truth out of anyone at all. If this were the case, how could we human beings live with one another? It would be impossible. If we couldn’t get any truth or honesty from one another, we wouldn’t be able to live together. So in order that friends, husbands, wives, parents, children and people throughout society can live together and trust one another, we need to be honest and hold to truthfulness as a basic principle in all our dealings. Society will then have a strong foundation.
Here I’m giving just a short explanation of the fourth precept so that you will see how great the value of truthfulness is. People live together in harmony because of truthfulness, not because of lies and dishonesty. Lies are very de- structive to the world. People who hope for one another’s well-being should be entirely honest and truthful in their dealings. Lies are like disembodied spirits that deceive people and eat away at social values. This is why a society of good people despises those who tell lies and does its best to keep them out of its midst. The only people who like lying are those who harvest their crops from the hearts and livers of others; in other words, those who make their living by fraud and deceit. Thus, lying is a means of livelihood only for evil people, but is of absolutely no use to good people. The Buddha taught us not to lie because
lies are like executioners waiting to torture people and bring them to a bad end.
The fifth precept speaks against drinking alcohol: What is alcohol? Alcohol here refers to any intoxicant. It changes the person who takes it from a full hu- man being to one with something lacking. The more we take it, the more we’re lacking, to the point where we become raving lunatics. When we were newly born, our parents never gave us alcohol to drink. They gave us only healthy, nu- tritious things like food and mother’s milk. We were able to grow to adulthood because of our mothers’ milk and the other good nutritious foods our parents gave us. But after having grown up on good nutritious food, we then take alco- hol and other intoxicants to poison and drug ourselves. Exactly where this adds to the value of our status as human beings is something I have yet to see.
Think about this for a minute: Suppose that all of us sitting here were drunk, from old Grandfather Boowa on down. Suppose we were all roaring drunk, sprawled all over the roadsides. Everywhere you went, there’d be people defecating and urinating in their pants all over the place, with no ordinary hu- man sense of shame or embarrassment. Could you stand to look at it? If alcohol were really good, as people like to pretend it is, wouldn’t then good people ex- press their admiration for drunkards sprawled all over the roadsides, their urine and excrement covering themselves and their surroundings? “These drunkards are really outstanding, aren’t they? They don’t have to look for a place to def- ecate. They can do it right in their pants. Ordinary people can’t do that. These drunkards are really extraordinary, aren’t they?” Would they ever say anything like this?
This is why the Buddha cautioned us against drinking alcohol. He didn’t want people all over the nation to be crazy, ruining their good human manners and ruining their work. A drunk person is no different from a dead person. He can’t do any work – aside from boasting. He damages his intelligence and finds it easy to do anything at all with no sense of conscience or deference, no fear of evil or the results of kamma, no respect for people or places at all. He can go anywhere and say anything with no sense of shame or embarrassment. A drunk arise when one of them goes out of bounds. When parents argue over other things – a lack of this or that or whatever – it’s not too serious and can be taken as normal. But quarrelling over infidelity is very serious and embarrasses ev- eryone in the family. So for this reason, you should always be very strict with yourself in this matter. Don’t let yourself be heedless or lax in your behavior. As for quarrelling about other matters, you should be careful about that too. When parents quarrel for any reason, the children can’t look one another in the face. When they go to school or out with their friends, they can’t look their friends in the face, because of their embarrassment.
The fourth precept speaks against lying: Why did the Buddha teach us not to lie? Let’s think about it. Is there anything good about lying? Suppose every- one in the country, everyone in the world, lied to one another whenever they met. Wherever you’d go, there’d be nothing but lies. You wouldn’t be able to get the truth out of anyone at all. If this were the case, how could we human beings live with one another? It would be impossible. If we couldn’t get any truth or honesty from one another, we wouldn’t be able to live together. So in order that friends, husbands, wives, parents, children and people throughout society can live together and trust one another, we need to be honest and hold to truthfulness as a basic principle in all our dealings. Society will then have a strong foundation.
Here I’m giving just a short explanation of the fourth precept so that you will see how great the value of truthfulness is. People live together in harmony because of truthfulness, not because of lies and dishonesty. Lies are very de- structive to the world. People who hope for one another’s well-being should be entirely honest and truthful in their dealings. Lies are like disembodied spirits that deceive people and eat away at social values. This is why a society of good people despises those who tell lies and does its best to keep them out of its midst. The only people who like lying are those who harvest their crops from the hearts and livers of others; in other words, those who make their living by fraud and deceit. Thus, lying is a means of livelihood only for evil people, but is of absolutely no use to good people. The Buddha taught us not to lie because lies are like executioners waiting to torture people and bring them to a bad end.
The fifth precept speaks against drinking alcohol: What is alcohol? Alcohol here refers to any intoxicant. It changes the person who takes it from a full hu- man being to one with something lacking. The more we take it, the more we’re lacking, to the point where we become raving lunatics. When we were newly born, our parents never gave us alcohol to drink. They gave us only healthy, nu- tritious things like food and mother’s milk. We were able to grow to adulthood because of our mothers’ milk and the other good nutritious foods our parents gave us. But after having grown up on good nutritious food, we then take alco- hol and other intoxicants to poison and drug ourselves. Exactly where this adds to the value of our status as human beings is something I have yet to see.
Think about this for a minute: Suppose that all of us sitting here were drunk, from old Grandfather Boowa on down. Suppose we were all roaring drunk, sprawled all over the roadsides. Everywhere you went, there’d be people defecating and urinating in their pants all over the place, with no ordinary hu- man sense of shame or embarrassment. Could you stand to look at it? If alcohol were really good, as people like to pretend it is, wouldn’t then good people ex- press their admiration for drunkards sprawled all over the roadsides, their urine and excrement covering themselves and their surroundings? “These drunkards are really outstanding, aren’t they? They don’t have to look for a place to def- ecate. They can do it right in their pants. Ordinary people can’t do that. These drunkards are really extraordinary, aren’t they?” Would they ever say anything like this?
intelligent human being means being clever in maintaining one’s moral virtue, not clever in taking intoxicants, creating animosity or abusing other people. People of that sort aren’t called intelligent. They’re called foolish.
The teachings of the Buddha are correct, and appropriate for human be- ings to put into practice according to their position in life. There’s nothing in the principles of the Dhamma to act as deadweight on the progress of the world. In fact, the world acts as deadweight on the Dhamma, destroying it without any real sense of conscience. When we act like that, all we lack is tails; otherwise we might be called dogs. Even without tails, we might be called dogs if we act in such a depraved manner. When we go out trying to snatch tails from dogs, we should watch out – they might bite us.
People have gotten way out of bounds. We say we’ve progressed, that we’re advanced and civilized, but if we get so carried away with the world that we don’t give a thought to what’s reasonable, noble or right, then the material progress of the world will simply become a fire consuming the world and ev- eryone in it, until eventually there’s no world left to live in. We can’t pretend that we’re dogs, because we don’t have tails. But if we try to snatch their tails, they’ll bite us. This is what it means to be a fake human being. We can’t pretend to be genuine human beings because we don’t have any moral virtue to our name. We lack good enough manners to fit in with our status as human beings. On the other hand, we can’t pretend we’re animals because we don’t have any
tails. These are the sorts of difficulties we get ourselves into, the damage we do to ourselves and the common good if we go against the teachings of the reli- gion. And this is why the practice of the Dhamma is fitting for our true status as human beings – because the Buddha taught the religion to the human race.
Before you do anything, reflect on whether it’s right or wrong. Don’t act simply on your moods or desires. Moods and desires have no true standards. You can desire everything. Even when you’ve eaten your fill, you can still want more. Your desires are hungry – hungry all the time. That’s desire. It has no stan- dards or limits at all. The Buddha calls this the lower side of the mind.
This is why you need to use Dhamma to contemplate desire and take it apart to see what it wants. If, on reflection, you see that what it wants is reason- able, only then should you go ahead and act on it. But if it wants to eat and, after you’ve eaten, it still wants more, then ask it: “What more do you want to eat? The sky? Nobody in the world eats sky. Whatever people eat, you’ve already eaten. You’ve had enough already, so what more do you want?” When your desires are stubborn, you really have to come down hard on them like this if you want to be a good person of moderate wants.
If left to themselves, our desires and moods know no limits; so we must teach ourselves, even force ourselves, to stay within proper limits. If we act merely in line with our desires, the human race will degenerate. So we need to take the principles of moral virtue as our guide. The teachings of the religion are an important means to ensure that we are good people living in happiness and peace. If we lack moral virtue, then even if we search for happiness until the day we die, we’ll never find it. Instead, we’ll find nothing but suffering and discontent. What’s right and appropriate, no matter who you are, is putting the teachings of the religion into practice. To lack Dhamma – in other words, to lack goodness and virtue – is to lack the tools you need to find happiness.
The world is becoming more and more troubled each day because we lack moral virtue in our hearts and actions. All we see is the world acting as dead- weight on moral virtue, trampling it to bits. Don’t go thinking that moral virtue
is deadweight on the world. Moral virtue has never harmed the world in any way. Actually, the world tramples all over moral virtue and destroys it, leaving us empty-handed, without any guiding principles. We end up destroying one another in a way that’s really appalling. So I ask that you see both the harm that comes from a lack of moral virtue and the value of putting moral virtue into practice. You yourself will prosper, your family will prosper and society will prosper because you have the Dhamma as a shield for your protection.
Our worth as human beings comes from our moral behavior, you know. It doesn’t come from our skin and flesh the way it does with animals. When ani- mals such as fish and crabs die, you can take their flesh to the market and come back with money in your pockets; but try taking the flesh of a dead person to the market and see what happens. Everyone in the market will scatter in an up- roar. Since when has our human worth lain with our skin and flesh? It lies with a heart that is adorned with moral virtue. People with moral virtue are people of value. Wherever they live, everything is at peace and at ease.
When we have moral virtue as our adornment, we’re attractive in a way that never loses its appeal, no matter how old we get. We have value precisely because of our virtue. If moral virtue is lacking in a family, that family will tend to become more and more troubled. If virtue is very much lacking, the family will be very much troubled; if it’s completely lacking, the whole family will be destroyed.
I ask that you contemplate what I’ve said and put it into practice so as to rid yourselves of the dangers that have been threatening you and your family, allowing you instead to meet with nothing but happiness and peace. In particu- lar, husbands and wives should be determined to treat one another well. I ask that you treat your spouse as having equal worth with yourself. Don’t try to de- base your spouse’s value and exalt your own through the power of your moods. Treat each other as having equal value, both in moral terms and in terms of the family. Your family will then prosper and be happy.




Visions of a Samana | Ajahn Maha Boowa

The Forest Path Podcast
The Forest Path Podcast
Visions of a Samana | Ajahn Maha Boowa
/

This episode is based on a talk given by esteemed forest meditation master Ajahn Maha Boowa and is titled Visions of a Samana. It was first publish as a A Forest Dhamma Publication in March 2011. The original text can be found on Dhammatalks.net.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Ajahn Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.

A Forest Dhamma Publication / March 2011

All commercial rights reserved. © 2011 Bhikkhu Dick Silaratano

Dhamma should not be sold like goods in the market place. Permission to reproduce this publication in any way for free distribution, as a gift of Dhamma, is hereby granted and no further permission need be obtained. Reproduction in any way for commercial gain is strictly prohibited. Cover and interior design by Mae Chee Melita Halim.

The translations in this book were compiled from the spoken discourses of Luangta Maha Boowa. For the most part, they have been adapted for this book from Ajaan Thanissaro’s English translations published in the books A Life of Inner Quality, Straight From the Heart and Things As They Are.


Visions Of A Samana
by Ajahn Maha Boowa
My mother was a wonderfully patient and devoted woman. She told me that of all the 16 children she carried to birth, I was by far the most troublesome in the womb. I was either so still in her stomach that she thought I must have already died, or I was thrashing around so violently that she thought I must have been on the verge of death. The closer I came to birth, the worse those extremes became.
Just before I was born, my mother and my father each had an auspicious dream. My father dreamed that he had received a very sharp knife, pointed at the tip with an elephant tusk handle and encased in a silver sheath. My father felt very pleased.
My mother, on the other hand, dreamed that she had received a pair of gold earrings which were so lovely that she couldn’t resist the temptation to put them on and admire herself in the mirror. The more she looked, the more they impressed her.
My grandfather interpreted these two dreams to mean that the course of my life would follow one of two extremes. If I chose the way of evil, I would be the most feared criminal of my time. My character would be so fearsome that I was bound to end up being a crime boss of unprecedented daring and ferocity who’d never allow himself to be captured alive and imprisoned, but would hide out in the jungle and fight the authorities to the death.
At the other extreme, if I chose the way of virtue, my goodness would be unequalled. I’d be bound to ordain as a Buddhist monk and become a field of merit for the world.
When I grew up I noticed that all the older boys were getting married, so I thought that’s what I wanted too. One day, an old fortune teller came to visit the house of my friend. In the course of conversation, my friend blurted out that he wanted to ordain as a monk. The old man looked a bit annoyed and then asked to see the boy’s hand.
“Let’s take a look at the lines in your palm to see if you’re really going to be a monk. Oh! Look at this! There’s no way you’ll ordain.”
“But I really want to ordain!” “No way! You’ll get married first.”
I suddenly got an itch to ask the old man about my fortune, since I was hoping to marry at that time. I had no intention to ordain. When I stuck my hand out, the old man grabbed it and exclaimed: “This is the guy that’s going to ordain!”
“But I want to get married.”
 
“No way! Your ordination line is full. Before long you’ll be a monk.”
 
My face went flush because I wasn’t intending to be a monk at all. I want- ed to have a wife.
It was strange really. After that, whenever I thought of marrying a girl, some obstacle would arise to prevent it. I even had a narrow escape after I ordained,  when a girl I previously had a crush on came looking for me at the monastery, only to find that I had just moved to another place. If she’d caught me in time, who knows…
While I was growing up, I had no particular desire to become a monk. It took me awhile to focus my attention on it. When I was 20 I fell seriously ill, so ill that my parents were constantly sitting at my bedside. My physical symptoms were severe. At the same time, a decision on whether or not to ordain weighed heavily on my mind. I felt the Lord of Death closing in on me. My whole life seemed to be in the balance.
My parents sat anxiously beside me not daring to speak. My mother, who was usually very talkative, just sat there crying. Eventually my father couldn’t hold back his tears. They both thought I was going to die that night. Seeing my parents crying in despair, I made the solemn vow that should I recover from that illness, I would ordain as a Buddhist monk for their sake. As though in response to my intense resolve, my symptoms began to slowly fade away; by dawn they had disappeared completely. Instead of dying that night as expected, I made a full recovery.
But following my recovery, the intensity of my resolve waned. My inner virtue kept reminding me that I had made a solemn promise to ordain, so why was I procrastinating? Several months of indecision passed, even though I kept acknowledging my failure to live up to my resolution. Why hadn’t I ordained yet? I knew I had no choice but to ordain. I had to honor the agreement I made with the Lord of Death: my life in exchange for ordination. I willingly conceded that ordination was inevitable. I wasn’t trying to avoid it, but I needed a catalyst. That catalyst came during a frank discussion with my mother. Both she and my father were pleading with me to ordain. Finally their tears forced me to make the decision that marked my path in life.
My father wanted me to ordain so badly that he began to cry. As soon as my father started crying, I was startled. My father’s tears were no small matter. I reflected on my father’s tears for three days before finalizing my decision. At the end of the third day, I approached my mother and announced my intention to ordain, adding the provision that I be allowed the freedom to give up the robes whenever I felt inclined. I made it clear that I wouldn’t ordain if I was forbidden to disrobe. But my mother was too clever. She said that if I wanted to disrobe immediately after the ordination ceremony, in front of all the people in attendance, she wouldn’t object. She’d be satisfied to see me standing there in yellow robes. That was all she asked. Of course, who would be foolish enough to immediately disrobe right there in front of the preceptor with the whole vil- lage in attendance? My mother easily outsmarted me on that one.
Soon after my ordination, I began reading the story of the Buddha’s life, which immediately awak- ened a strong sense of faith in my heart. I was so moved by the Buddha’s struggle to attain Enlight- enment that tears rolled down my cheeks as I read.
Contemplating the scope of his attainment instilled in me a fervent desire to gain release from suffering. Toward that purpose, I decided to formally study the Buddha’s teachings as a preparation for putting them into practice. With that aim in mind, I made a solemn vow to complete the third grade of Pali studies. As soon as I passed the third-level Pali exams, I planned to follow the way of practice. I had no intention to study further or take exams for the higher levels.
When I traveled to Chiang Mai to take my exams, by chance Venerable Ajaan Mun arrived at Wat Chedi Luang in Chiang Mai at the time I did. As soon as I learned that he was staying there, I was overwhelmed with joy. When I returned from my alms round next morning, I learned from another monk that Ajaan Mun left for alms on a certain path and returned by the very same path. This made me even more eager to see him. Even if I couldn’t meet him face to face, I’d be content just to have a glimpse of him before he left.
The next morning, before Ajaan Mun went on his alms round, I hurried out early for alms and then returned to my quarters. From there, I kept watch on the path by which he would return, and before long I saw him coming. With a longing that came from having wanted to see him for such a long time, I peeked out from my hiding place to catch a glimpse of him. The moment I saw him, a feeling of complete faith arose within me. I felt that because I had now seen an Arahant, I hadn’t wasted my birth as a human being. Although no one had told me that he was an Arahant, my heart became firmly convinced of it the moment I saw him. At the same time, a feeling of sudden elation hard to describe came over me, making my hair stand on end.
When I had passed my Pali exams, I returned to Bangkok with the inten- tion of heading out to the countryside to practice meditation in line with my vow. But when I reached Bangkok, the senior monk who was my teacher in- sisted that I stay on. He was keenly interested to see me further my Pali studies. I tried to find some way to slip away, because I felt that the conditions of my vow had been met the moment I had passed my Pali exams. Under no circum- stances would I study for or take the next level of Pali exams.
It’s my temperament to value truthfulness. Once I’ve made a vow, I won’t break it. Even life I don’t value as much as a vow. So now I had to find some way to go out to practice. By a fortunate turn of events, that senior monk was suddenly invited out to the provinces, which gave me a chance to leave Bang- kok while he was away. Had he been there, it would have been hard for me to get away, because I was indebted to him in many ways and probably would have felt such deference for him that I would have had difficulty leaving. But as soon as I saw my chance, I decided to make a vow that night, asking for an omen from the Dhamma to reinforce my determination to leave.
After finishing my chants, I made my vow: the gist of which was that if my going out to meditate in line with my earlier vow would go smoothly and fulfill my aspirations, I wanted an unusual vision to appear to me, either in my medi- tation or in a dream. But if I’d be denied the chance to practice, or if having gone out I’d meet with disappointment, I asked that the vision show the reason why I’d be disappointed. On the other hand, if my departure was to fulfill my aspirations, I asked that the vision be extraordinarily strange and amazing. With that, I sat down to meditate. When no visions appeared during the long period I sat meditating, I stopped to rest.
As soon as I fell asleep, however, I dreamed that I was floating effortlessly above a vast celestial metropolis. Stretching beneath me as far as the eye could see was an extremely impressive sight. All the houses looked like royal palaces, shining brightly as they glittered in the sunlight, as though made of solid gold. I floated three times around the metropolis and then returned to earth. As soon as I returned to earth, I woke up. It was four o’clock in the morning. I quickly got up with a feeling of fullness and contentment in my heart, because while I floated around the metropolis, my eyes were dazzled by many strange and amazing sights. I felt happy and very pleased with my vision. I thought that my hopes were sure to be fulfilled. I had never before seen such an amazing vision, and one that coincided so nicely with my vow. I really marveled at my vision that night. Early the next morning, I went to take leave of the senior monk in charge of the monastery, who willingly gave me permission to go.
From the very start of my practice, I was very earnest and committed – because that’s the sort of person I am. I don’t play around. When I take a stance, that’s how it has to be. When I set out to practice, I had only one book – the Patimokkha – in my shoulder bag. Now, I’d strive for the full path and the full results. I planned to give it my all – to give it my life. I wasn’t going to hope for anything short of freedom from suffering. I felt sure that I would attain that re- lease in this lifetime. All I asked was that someone show me that the paths, the fruitions and Nibbana were still attainable. I would give my life to that person and to the Dhamma, without holding anything back. If it meant death, I’d die practicing meditation. I wouldn’t die in ignoble retreat. My heart was set like a stone post.
I spent the next rains in Cakkaraad district of Nakhon Ratchasima prov- ince, because I hadn’t been able to catch up with Ajaan Mun. As soon as I got there, I began accelerating my efforts, practicing both day and night; and it wasn’t long before my heart attained the stillness of samadhi. I wasn’t willing to do any other work aside from the work of sitting and walking meditation, so I pushed myself until my samadhi was really solid.
One day, just as my mind became calm and concentrated, a vision ap- peared in my meditation. I watched as a white-robed renunciant walked up and stood about 6 feet in front of me. He was an impressive looking man of about 50 who was impeccably dressed and had an unusually fair complexion. As I gazed at him, he looked down at his hands and started to count on his fingers. He counted one finger at a time until he reached nine, then glanced up at me and said, “In nine years you’ll attain.”
Later, I contemplated the meaning of this vision. The only attainment that I truly desired was freedom from suffering. By that time, I had been ordained for seven years, and it hardly seemed likely that two more years gave me enough time to succeed. Surely it couldn’t be that easy. I decided to begin counting from the year I left to begin practicing. By that reckoning, I should attain my goal in nine years’ time, in my 16th rains retreat. If the vision was indeed pro- phetic, then that timeframe seemed quite reasonable.
When I finally reached Venerable Ajaan Mun, he taught me the Dhamma as if it came straight from his heart. He would never use the words, “It might be like that” or “It seems to be like this” because his knowledge came directly from personal experience. It was as though he kept saying, “Right here. Right here.” Where were the paths, the fruitions and Nibbana? “Right here. Right here.” My heart was convinced, really convinced. So I made a solemn vow: As long as he was still alive, I would not leave him as my teacher. No matter where I went, I’d have to return to him. With that determination, I accelerated my efforts in meditation.
Several nights later, I had another amazing vision. I dreamed that I was fully robed, carrying my bowl and umbrella-tent and following an overgrown trail through the jungle. Both sides of the trail were a mass of thorns and bram- bles. My only option was to continue following the trail, which was just barely a path, just enough to give a hint of where to go.
Shortly I reached a point where a thick clump of bamboo had fallen across the trail. I couldn’t see which way to continue. There was no way around it on either side. How was I going to get past it? I peered here and there until I finally saw an opening, a tiny opening right along the