This book is an
introduction to the Buddhist practice of training the heart.
It is taken from the talks of Phra Ajaan Lee Dhammadharo, a
teacher in the Thai forest tradition of meditation, and is
called Food for Thought because it invites the reader
to fill in the spaces suggested by the talks to reflect on
how the images and teachings they contain relate to one
another and to one's own situation in life.
Two of the
talks included here, "Quiet Breathing" and "Centered
Within," briefly describe a technique of breath meditation
aimed at giving rise to a centered and discerning state of
mind. The rest of the talks deal with how to use such a
state of mind in dealing with the problems of life: the
day-to-day problems of anger, anxiety, disappointment, etc.,
and the larger problems of aging, illness, and death.
In other words,
this is a book concerned less with the techniques of
meditation than with its meaning and worth: the questions of
why should one train the heart to begin with, what personal
qualities are involved in its training, and how to make the
best use of it as it becomes trained. Readers interested in
more detailed instructions in the techniques of formal
meditation can find them in Ajaan Lee's other books
especially Keeping the Breath in Mind and Inner
Strength although it is wise to reflect on the sorts
of questions raised by this book before actually sitting
down to the practice.
The talks
translated here are actually reconstructions of Ajaan Lee's
talks made by two of his followers a nun, Arun Abhivanna,
and a monk, Phra Bunkuu Anuvaddhano based on notes they
made while listening to him teach. Some of the
reconstructions are fairly fragmentary and disjointed, and
in presenting them here I have had to edit them somewhat,
cutting extraneous passages, expanding on shorthand
references to points of formal doctrine, and filling in gaps
by collating passages from different talks dealing with the
same topic. Aside from changes of this sort, though, I have
tried my best to convey both the letter and spirit of Ajaan
Lee's message.
I have also
tried to keep the use of Pali words in the translation to a
minimum. In all cases where English equivalents have been
substituted for Pali terms, I have chosen to convey the
meanings Ajaan Lee gives to these terms in his writings,
even when this has meant departing from the interpretations
given to these terms by scholars. A few Pali terms, though,
have no adequate English equivalents, so here is a brief
glossary of the ones left untranslated or unexplained in
this book:
Arahant:
A person who has gained liberation from mental defilement
and the cycle of death and rebirth.
Brahma:
An inhabitant of the heavens of form and formlessness
corresponding to the levels of meditative absorption in
physical and non-physical objects.
Buddho:
Awake; enlightened. An epithet of the Buddha.
Dhamma
(Dharma): The truth in and of itself; the right
natural order of things. Also, the Buddha's teachings on
these topics and the practice of those teachings aimed at
realizing the true nature of the mind in and of itself.
Kamma
(Karma): Intentional acts, which create good or bad
results in accordance with the quality of the intention.
Kamma debts are the moral debts one owes to others for
having caused them hardships or difficulties.
Nibbana
(Nirvana): Liberation; the unbinding of the mind from
mental defilement and the cycle of death and rebirth. As
this term refers also to the extinguishing of fire, it
carries connotations of stilling, cooling, and peace.
(According to the physics taught at the time of the
Buddha, a burning fire seizes or adheres to its fuel; when
extinguished, it is unbound.)
Sangha:
The followers of the Buddha who have practiced his
teachings at least to the point of gaining entry to the
stream to Liberation. To take refuge in the Buddha,
Dhamma, and Sangha means to take them as the guide in
one's search for happiness and to make the effort to give
rise to their qualities within oneself.
My hope is that
the teachings in this book will serve as more than just food
for thought, and that they will inspire you to search for
the inner worth and happiness that come with the practice of
training the heart.
Thanissaro Bhikkhu
(Geoffrey DeGraff)
January, 1989
August 4, 1957
Most of us tend
to concern ourselves only with short, small, and narrow
things. For instance, we think that there isn't much to
human life we're born and then we die so we pay
attention only to our stomachs and appetites. There's hardly
anyone who thinks further than that, who thinks out past
death. This is why we're short-sighted and don't think of
developing any goodness or virtues within ourselves, because
we don't see the truth and the extremely important benefits
we'll gain from these things in the future.
Actually, the
affairs of each person are really long and drawn out, and
not at all short. If they were short, we'd all know where we
came from and how we got where we are. The same would hold
true for the future: If our affairs were really a short
story, we'd know where we're going and what we'll be after
death.
But the truth
of the matter is that almost no one knows these things about
themselves. The only ones who do know are those whose minds
are strong in goodness and virtue, and who have developed
purity to the point where they gain the intuitive
understanding that enables them to see where they've come
from and where they're going. These people have the inner
eye, which is why they are able to see things past and
future. Sometimes they can see not only their own, but also
other people's affairs. This is what makes them realize the
hardships and difficulties suffered by human beings and
other living beings born into this world. They see the cycle
of birth, aging, illness, and death. They see their past
lives, both good and bad, and this makes them feel a sense
of dismay and dispassion, disenchanted with the idea of ever
being born again. As a result, they try to develop their
goodness and virtues even further so that they can reduce
the number of times they'll have to be reborn. For example,
stream-winners those who have entered the stream to
Liberation (nibbana) will be reborn at most only seven
more times and then will never have to be reborn again.
Once-returners will be reborn in the human world only once
more, while nonreturners will be reborn in the Brahma worlds
and gain Liberation there.
As for
stream-winners, even though they have to be reborn, they're
reborn in secure places. They aren't reborn in states of
deprivation, such as the realms of hungry shades, angry
demons, or common animals. They're reborn as human beings,
but as special human beings, not like the rest of us. How
are they special? They have few defilements in their hearts,
not thick defilements like ordinary people. They have a
built-in sense of conscience and scrupulousness. Even though
they may do wrong from time to time, they see the damage it
does and feel a sense of shame, so that they won't want
their various defilements to lead them into doing wrong ever
again.
People
disenchanted with rebirth make an extra effort to build up
their virtues so that they won't have to come back and be
reborn. If you want to cut down the number of times you'll
take rebirth, you should steadily increase your inner
quality and worth. In other words, make your heart clean and
bright with generosity, moral virtue, and meditation. Keep
your thoughts, words, and deeds at equilibrium, secluded
from evil both inside and out. If you have no vices in word
and deed, that's called being secluded from outside evil. If
your mind is firmly centered in concentration and free from
obstructing distractions, that's called being secluded from
inside evil. This way you can be at peace and at ease both
within and without. As the Buddha said, "Happy is the person
content in seclusion."
When this kind
of seclusion arises in the mind, all sorts of worthwhile
qualities will come flowing in without stop. The heart will
keep growing higher and higher, until it no longer wants
anything at all. If you used to eat a lot, you won't want to
eat a lot. If you used to eat in moderation, there'll be
times when you won't want to eat at all. If you used to talk
a lot, you won't want to talk a lot. If you used to sleep a
lot, you'll want to sleep only a little. However you live,
the heart will be entirely happy, with no more danger to
fear from anyone. This is how you cut down the number of
times you'll take rebirth.
* * *
If you see any
areas in which you're still lacking in inner worth, you
should try to fill in the lack right away. Be steady in your
practice of meditation and make your mind clear, free from
the distractions that will drag it down into the dirt. Dirt
is where animals live pigs, dogs, ducks, chickens, and
cows. It's no place for human beings. If you're really a
human being, you have to like living in clean places, free
from danger and germs. This is why the Buddha praised
seclusion as the well-spring of happiness. So try to find a
secluded spot for yourself to stay within the mind, secluded
from hindering distractions. Make your mind as bright as a
jewel, and don't let temptation come along and try to trade
garbage for the good things you've got. You have to be
mindful at all times, so don't let yourself be absent-minded
or forgetful.
* * *
If your mind
doesn't stay with your body in the present, all sorts of
evil things all sorts of distractions will come flowing
in to overwhelm it, making it fall away from its inner
worth, just as a vacant house is sure to become a nest of
spiders, termites, and all sorts of animals. If you keep
your mind firmly with the body in the present, you'll be
safe. Like a person on a big ship in the middle of a smooth
sea free from wind and waves: Everywhere you look is clear
and wide open. You can see far. Your eyes are quiet with
regard to sights, your ears quiet with regard to sounds, and
so on with your other senses. Your mind is quiet with regard
to thoughts of sensuality, ill will, and harm. The mind is
in a state of seclusion, calm and at peace. This is where
we'll let go of our sense of "me" and "mine," and reach the
further shore, free from constraints and bonds.
August 28,
1957
Normally, our
hearts can hardly ever sit still. They have to think about
all kinds of thoughts and ideas, both good and bad. When
good things happen, we keep them to think about. When bad
things happen, we keep them to think about. When we succeed
or fail at anything, we keep it to think about. This shows
how impoverished the mind is. When it thinks about things it
likes, it develops sensual craving. When it thinks about
things that are possible, it develops craving for
possibilities. When it thinks about things that are
impossible, it develops craving for impossibilities, all
without our realizing it. This is called unawareness. It's
because of this unawareness that we have thoughts,
judgments, and worries that form the well-spring for likes,
dislikes, and attachments.
Sometimes the
things we think about can come true in line with our
thoughts; sometimes they can't. While there's at least
some use in thinking about things that are possible, we
like to go to the effort of thinking about things that are
out of the question. I.e., when certain things are no longer
possible, we still hold onto them to the point where we feel
mistreated or depressed. We keep trying to get results out
of things that can no longer be. When our hopes aren't
satisfied, we latch onto our dissatisfaction; when they
are satisfied, we latch onto our satisfaction. This
gives rise to likes and dislikes. We latch onto thoughts of
the future and thoughts of the past. Most of us, when we
succeed at something, latch onto our happiness. When we
don't succeed, we latch onto our disappointment. Sometimes
we latch onto things that are good although latching onto
goodness leaves us some way to crawl along. Sometimes
we actually latch onto things that are clearly bad.
This is what
made the Buddha feel such pity for us human beings. In what
way? He pitied our stupidity in not understanding what
suffering is. We know that red ants can really hurt when
they bite us, yet we go stick our heads in a red ant nest
and then sit around in pain and torment. What good do we get
out of it?
When we see
good or bad sights with our eyes, we latch onto them. When
we hear good or bad sounds with our ears, we latch onto
them. When we smell good or bad odors, taste good or bad
flavors, feel good or bad sensations, or think good or bad
thoughts, we latch onto them so we end up all encumbered
with sights dangling from our eyes, sounds dangling from
both of our ears, odors dangling from the tip of our nose,
flavors dangling from the tip of our tongue, tactile
sensations dangling all over our body, and thoughts dangling
from our mind. This way, sights are sure to close off our
eyes, sounds close off our ears, odors close off our
nostrils, flavors close off our tongue, tactile sensations
close off our body, and thoughts close off our mind. When
our senses are completely closed off in this way, we're in
the dark the darkness of unawareness groping around
without finding the right way, unable to go any way at all.
Our body is weighed down and our mind is dark. This is
called harming yourself, killing yourself, destroying your
own chances for progress.
Thoughts are
addictive, and especially when they're about things that are
bad. We remember them long and think of them often. This is
delusion, one of the camp-followers of unawareness. For this
reason, we have to drive this kind of delusion from our
hearts by making ourselves mindful and alert, fully
conscious with each in-and-out breath. This is what
awareness comes from. When awareness arises, discernment
arises as well. If awareness doesn't arise, how will we be
able to get rid of craving? When awareness arises, craving
for sensuality, craving for possibilities, and craving for
impossibilities will all stop, and attachment won't exist.
This is the way of the Noble Path.
Most of us tend
to flow along in the direction of what's bad more than in
the direction of what's good. When people try to convince us
to do good, they have to give us lots of reasons, and even
then we hardly budge. But if they try to talk us into doing
bad, all they have to do is say one or two words and we're
already running with them. This is why the Buddha said,
"People are foolish. They like to feed on bad
preoccupations." And that's not all. We even feed on things
that have no truth to them at all. We can't be bothered with
thinking about good things, but we like to keep clambering
after bad things, trying to remember them and keep them in
mind. We don't get to eat any meat or sit on any skin, and
yet we choke on the bones.
"We don't get
to eat any meat:" This means that we gather up imaginary
things to think about, but they don't bring us any
happiness. A person who opens his mouth to put food in it at
least gets something to fill up his stomach, but a person
who clambers around with his mouth open, craning his neck to
swallow nothing but air: That's really ridiculous. His
stomach is empty, without the least little thing to give it
weight. This stands for thoughts that have no truth to them.
We keep searching them out, gathering them up, and
elaborating on them in various ways without getting any
results out of them at all, aside from making ourselves
restless and distracted. We never have any time to sit still
in one place, and instead keep running and jumping around
until the skin on our rears has no chance to make contact
anywhere with a place to sit down. This is what is meant by,
"We don't get to sit on any skin." We can't lie down, we
can't stay seated even though our bodies may be seated,
our minds aren't seated there with them. We don't get to eat
any meat and instead we choke on the bones. We try to
swallow them, but they won't go down; we try to cough them
up, but they won't come out.
When we say,
"We choke on the bones," this refers to the various bad
preoccupations that get stuck in the heart. The "bones" here
are the five Hindrances.
(1) Sensual
desire: The mind gets carried away with things it likes.
(2) Ill will:
Things that displease us are like bones stuck in the
heart. The mind fastens on things that are bad, on things
we dislike, until we start feeling animosity, anger, and
hatred. Sometimes we even gather up old tasteless bones
that were thrown away long ago like chicken bones that
have been boiled to make stock: The meat has fallen off,
the flavor has been boiled away, and all that's left are
the hard, brittle bones they throw to dogs. This stands
for old thoughts stretching back 20 to 30 years that we
bring out to gnaw on. Look at yourself: Your mind is so
impoverished that it has to suck on old bones. It's really
pitiful.
(3) Torpor &
lethargy: When the mind has been feeding on trash like
this, with nothing to nourish it, its strength is bound to
wane away. It becomes sleepy and depressed, oblivious to
other people's words, not hearing their questions or
understanding what they're trying to say.
(4)
Restlessness & anxiety: The mind then gets irritable and
distracted, which is followed by
(5)
Uncertainty: We may decide that good things are bad, or
bad things are good, wrong things are right, or right
things are wrong. We may do things in line with the Dhamma
and not realize it, or contrary to the Dhamma but in
line with our own preconceptions and not know it.
Everything gets stuck in our throat, and we can't decide
which way to go, so our thoughts keep running around in
circles, like a person who rows his boat around in a lake
for hours and hours without getting anywhere.
This is called
harming yourself, hurting yourself, killing yourself. And
when we can do this sort of thing to ourselves, what's to
keep us from doing it to others? This is why we shouldn't
let ourselves harbor thoughts of envy, jealousy, or anger.
If any of these five Hindrances arise in the heart, then
trouble and suffering will come flooding in like a
torrential downpour, and we won't be able to hold our own
against them. All of this is because of the unawareness that
keeps us from having any inner quality as a mainstay. Even
though we may live in a seven- or nine-storey mansion and
eat food at $40 a plate, we won't be able to find any
happiness.
People without
any inner quality are like vagrants with no home to live in.
They have to be exposed to sun, rain, and wind by day and by
night, so how can they find any relief from the heat or the
cold? With nothing to shelter them, they have to lie curled
up until their backs get all crooked and bent. When a storm
comes, they need to scurry to find shelter: They can't stay
under trees because they're afraid the trees will be blown
down on top of them. They can't stay in open fields because
they're afraid lightning will strike. At midday the sun is
so hot that they can't sit for long like an old barefooted
woman walking on an asphalt road when the sun is blazing:
She can't put her feet down because she's afraid they'll
blister, so she dances around in place on her tiptoes, not
knowing where she can rest her feet.
This is why the
Buddha felt such pity for us, and taught us to find shelter
for ourselves by doing good and developing concentration as
a principle in our hearts, so that we can have an inner
home. This way we won't have to suffer, and other people
will benefit as well. This is called having a mainstay.
People with no
mainstay are bound to busy themselves with things that have
no real meaning or worth i.e., with things that can't
protect them from suffering when the necessity arises. A
person without the wisdom to search for a mainstay is sure
to suffer hardships. I'll illustrate this point with a
story. Once there was a band of monkeys living in the upper
branches of a forest, each one carrying its young wherever
it went. One day a heavy wind storm came. As soon as the
monkeys heard the sound of the approaching wind, they broke
off branches and twigs to make themselves a nest on one of
the bigger branches. After they had piled on the twigs, they
went down under the nest and looked up to see if there were
still any holes. Wherever they saw a hole, they piled on
more twigs and branches until the whole thing was piled
thick and high. Then when the wind and rain came, they got
up on top of the nest, sitting there with their mouths open,
shivering from the cold, exposed to the wind and rain. Their
nest hadn't offered them any protection at all, simply
because of their own stupidity. Eventually a gust of wind
blew the nest apart. The monkeys were scattered every which
way and ended up dangling here and there, their babies
falling from their grasp, all of them thoroughly miserable
from their hardship and pain.
People who
don't search for inner worth as their mainstay are no
different from these monkeys. They work at amassing
money and property, thinking that these things will give
them security, but when death comes, none of these things
can offer any safety at all. This is why the Buddha felt
such pity for all the deluded people in the world, and went
to great lengths to teach us to search for inner quality as
a mainstay for ourselves.
People who have
inner quality as their mainstay are said to be kind not only
to themselves but also to others as well, in the same way
that when we have a house of our own, we can build a hut for
other people to live in, too. If we see that another
person's hut is going to cave in, we help find thatch to
roof it; make walls for the left side, right side, the
front, and the back, to protect it from storm winds; and
raise the floor to get it above flood level. What this means
is that we teach the other person how to escape from his or
her own defilements in the same way that we've been able, to
whatever extent, to escape from ours. When we tell others to
practice concentration, it's like helping them roof their
house so that they won't have to be exposed to the sun and
rain. Making walls for the front and back means that we tell
them to shut off thoughts of past and future; and walls for
the left and right means that we tell them to shut off
thoughts of likes and dislikes. Raising the floor above
flood level means we get them to stay firmly centered in
concentration, keeping their minds still with their object
of meditation.
Once people
have a house with good walls, a sound roof, and a solid
floor, then even if they don't have any other external
belongings just a single rag to their name they can be
happy, secure, and at peace. But if your house is sunk in
the mud, what hope is there for your belongings? You'll
have to end up playing with crabs, worms, and other creepy
things. Your walls are nothing but holes, so that people can
see straight through your house, in one side and out the
other. Even from four to five miles away they can see
everything you've got. When this is the case, thieves are
going to gang up and rob you i.e., all sorts of bad
thoughts and preoccupations are going to come in and ransack
your heart.
As for your
roof, it's nothing but holes. You look up and can see the
stars. Termite dust is going to sift into your ears and
eyes, and birds flying past will plaster you with their
droppings. So in the end, all you can do is sit scratching
your head in misery because you haven't any shelter.
When this is
the case, you should take pity on yourself and develop your
own inner worth. Keep practicing concentration until your
heart matures, step by step. When you do this, you'll
develop the light of discernment that can chase the darkness
of unawareness out of your heart. When there's no more
unawareness, you'll be free from craving and attachment, and
ultimately gain Liberation.
For this
reason, we should all keep practicing meditation and set our
hearts on developing nothing but inner goodness, without
retreating or getting discouraged. Whatever is a form of
goodness, roll up your sleeves and pitch right in. Don't
feel any regrets even if you ram your head into a wall and
die on the spot. If you're brave in your proper efforts this
way, all your affairs are sure to succeed in line with your
hopes and aspirations. But if evil comes and asks to move
into your home your heart chase it away. Don't let it
stay even for a single night.
* * *
People who like
to gather up thoughts, worries, etc., to hold onto are no
different from prisoners tied down with a ball and chain. To
fasten onto thoughts of the past is like having a rope
around your waist tied to a post behind you. To fasten onto
thoughts of the future is like having a rope around your
neck tied to a door in front. To fasten onto thoughts you
like is like having a rope around your right wrist tied to a
post on your right. To fasten onto thoughts you don't like
is like having a rope around your left wrist tied to a wall
on your left. Whichever way you try to step, you're pulled
back by the rope on the opposite side, so how can you hope
to get anywhere at all?
As for people
who have unshackled themselves from their thoughts, they
stand tall and free like soldiers or warriors with weapons
in both hands and no need to fear enemies from any
direction. Any opponents who see them won't dare come near,
so they're always sure to come out winning.
But if we're
the type tied up with ropes on all sides, nobody's going to
fear us, because there's no way we can take any kind of
stance to fight them off. If enemies approach us, all we can
do is dance around in one spot.
So I ask that
we all take a good look at ourselves and try to unshackle
ourselves from all outside thoughts and preoccupations.
Don't let them get stuck in your heart. Your meditation will
then give you results, your mind will advance to the
transcendent, and you're sure to come out winning someday.
July 1, 1958
Inner wealth,
according to the texts, means seven things conviction,
virtue, a sense of conscience, scrupulousness, breadth of
learning, generosity, and discernment but to put it
simply, inner wealth refers to the inner quality we build
within ourselves. Outer wealth money and material goods
doesn't have any hard and fast owners. Today it may be ours,
tomorrow someone else may take it away. There are times when
it belongs to us, and times when it belongs to others. Even
with things that are fixed in the ground, like farms or
orchards, you can't keep them from changing hands.
So when you
develop yourself so as to gain the discernment that sees how
worldly things are undependable and unsure, don't let your
property your worldly possessions sit idle. The Buddha
teaches us to plant crops on our land so that we can benefit
from it. If you don't make use of your land, it's sure to
fall into other people's hands. In other words, when we
stake out a claim to a piece of property, we should plant it
full of crops. Otherwise the government won't recognize our
claim, and we'll lose our rights to it. Even if we take the
case to court, we won't have a chance to win. So once you
see the weakness of an idle claim, you should hurry up and
plant crops on it so that the government will recognize your
claim and issue you a title to the land.
What this means
is that we should make use of our material possessions by
being generous with them, using them in a way that develops
the inner wealth of generosity within us. This way they
become the kind of wealth over which we have full rights and
that will benefit us even into future lifetimes.
September 29,
1958
This body of
ours: Actually there's not the least bit of it that's really
ours at all. We've gotten it from animals and plants the
pigs, prawns, chickens, fish, crabs, cows, etc., and all the
various vegetables, fruits, and grains that have been made
into the food we've eaten, which the body has chewed and
digested and turned into the blood that nourishes its
various parts. In other words, we've taken cooked things and
turned them back into raw things: ears, eyes, hands, arms,
body, etc. These then become male or female, they're given
ranks and titles, and so we end up falling for all of these
conventions. Actually these heads of ours are lettuce heads,
our hair is pigs' hair, our bones are chicken bones and duck
bones, our muscles are cows' muscles, etc. There's not one
part that's really ours, but we lay claim to the whole thing
and say it's this and that. We forget the original owners
from whom we got it all and so become possessive of it. When
the time comes for them to come and take it back, we're not
willing to give it back, which is where things get messy and
complicated and cause us to suffer when death comes near.
If all the
various animals we've eaten were to come walking out of each
of us right now (here I'm not talking about the really big
ones, like cows and steers; say that just all the little
ones the shrimps, fish, oysters, crabs, chickens, ducks,
and pigs came walking out) there wouldn't be enough room
for them all in this meditation hall. None of us would be
able to live here in this monastery any more. How many pigs,
ducks, chickens, and shrimp have each of us eaten? How many
bushels of fish? If we were to calculate it all, who knows
what the figures would be all the animals we ourselves
have killed for food or that we've gotten from others who've
killed them. How do you think these animals won't come and
demand repayment? If we don't have anything to give them,
they're sure to repossess everything we've got. Right when
we're at death's door: That's when they're going to crowd
around and demand that we repay our debts. If we don't have
anything to give them, they're going to knock us flat. But
if we have enough to give them, we'll come out unscathed.
In other words,
if we develop a lot of inner goodness, we'll be able to
contend with whatever pains we suffer, by giving back the
body with good grace in other words, by letting go of our
attachment to it. That's when we'll be at peace. We
should realize that the body leaves us and lets us go, bit
by bit, every day. But we've never left it, never let it
go at all. We're attached to it in every way, just as when
we eat food: We're attached to the food, but the food isn't
attached to us. If we don't eat it, it'll never cry even
once. All the attachment comes from our side alone.
The pleasure we
get from the body is a worldly pleasure: good for a moment
and then it changes. It's not at all lasting or permanent.
Notice the food you eat: At what point is it good and
delicious? It looks good and inviting only when it's
arranged nicely on a plate. It's delicious only for the
brief moment it's in your mouth. After it goes down your
throat, what is it like then? And when it gets down to your
intestines and comes out the other end, what is it like
then? It keeps changing all the time. When you think about
this sort of thing, it's enough to make you disillusioned
with everything in the world.
Worldly
pleasure is good only when it's hot and fresh, like
fresh-cooked rice piled on a plate when it's still hot and
steaming. If you leave it until it's cold, there's no taste
to it. If you let it go until it hardens, you can't swallow
it; and if you let it sit overnight, it spoils and you have
to throw it away.
As for the
pleasure of the Dhamma, it's like the brightness of stars or
the color of gold. The brightness of stars is clear and
glittering. Whoever sees it feels calmed and refreshed. When
depressed people look at the stars, no matter when, their
depression disappears. As for the color of gold, it's always
gleaming and golden. No matter what the gold is made into,
its color doesn't change. It's always gleaming and golden as
it always was.
In the same
way, the pleasure of the Dhamma is lasting and gives delight
throughout time to those who practice it. For this reason,
intelligent people search for pleasure in the Dhamma by
giving up their worthless, meaningless worldly pleasures, to
trade them in for lasting pleasure by practicing meditation
until their minds and actions reach the level of goodness,
beauty, and purity that goes beyond all action, all
suffering and stress.
July 6, 1959
Beautiful
things come from things that are dirty, and not at all from
things that are pleasant and clean. Crops and trees, for
instance, grow to be healthy and beautiful because of the
rotten and smelly compost and nightsoil with which they're
fertilized. In the same way, a beautiful mind comes from
meeting with things that aren't pleasant. When we meet with
bad things, the mind has a chance to grow.
"Bad things"
here refers to loss of wealth, loss of status, criticism,
and pain. When these things happen to a person whose mind is
rightly centered in concentration, they turn into good
things. Before, they were our enemies, but eventually they
become our friends. What this means is that when these four
bad things occur to us, we can come to our senses: "Oh. This
is how loss of wealth is bad. This is how loss of status,
how pain and criticism are bad. This is how the ways of the
world can change and turn on you, so that you shouldn't get
carried away with their good side."
When meditators
meet with these four kinds of bad things, their minds
develop. They become more and more dispassionate, more and
more disenchanted, more and more detached from the four
opposites of these bad things wealth, status, pleasure,
and praise so that when these good things happen, they
won't be fooled into getting attached or carried away with
them and can instead push their minds on to a higher level.
When they hear someone criticize or gossip about them, it's
as if that person were taking a knife to sharpen them. The
more they get sharpened, the more they grow to a finer and
finer point.
Loss of wealth
is actually good for you, you know. It can teach you not to
be attached or carried away with the money or material
benefits other people may offer you. Otherwise, the more you
have, the deeper you sink to the point where you drown
because you get stuck on being possessive.
Loss of status
is also good for you. For instance, you may be a person, but
they erase your good name and call you a dog which makes
things even easier for you, because dogs have no laws. They
can do what they like without any constraints, without
anyone to fine them or put them in jail. If people make you
a prince or a duke, you're really in bad straits. All of a
sudden you're big: Your arms, hands, feet, and legs grow all
out of size and get in your way wherever you try to go or
whatever you do.
As for wealth,
status, pleasure, and praise, there's nothing the least bit
constant or dependable about them. The more you really think
about them, the more disaffected and disenchanted you
become, to the point where you find that you're indifferent,
neither pleased nor displeased with them. This is where your
mind develops equanimity and can become firm in
concentration so that it can grow higher and higher in the
practice like the lettuce and cauliflower that Chinese
farmers plant in rows: The more they get fertilized with
nightsoil, the faster, more beautiful, and more healthy they
grow. If they were fed nothing but clean, clear water,
they'd end up all sickly and stunted.
This is why we
say that when people have developed mindfulness and
concentration, they're even better off when the ways of the
world turn ugly and bad. If the world shows you only its
good side, you're sure to get infatuated and stuck, like a
seed that stays buried in its shell and will never grow. But
once the seed comes out with its shoot, then the more sun,
wind, rain, and fertilizer it gets, the more it will grow
and develop i.e., the more your discernment will branch
out into knowledge and wisdom, leading you to intuitive
insight and on into the transcendent, like the old Chinese
vegetable farmer who becomes a millionaire by building a
fortune out of plain old excrement.
June 23, 1958;
August 23, 1958
When we first
meet with the fires of greed, aversion, and delusion, we
find them comforting and warm. We're like a person sitting
by a fire in the cold season: As he sits soaking up the
warmth, he gets more and more sleepy and careless until he
burns his hands and feet without realizing it, and
eventually falls head-first into the flames.
* * *
The pleasures
felt by people in the world come from looking at things only
on the surface. Take a plateful of rice, for instance. If
you ask people what's good about rice, they'll say, "It
tastes good and fills you up, too." But the Buddha wouldn't
answer like that. He'd answer by talking about rice both
when it goes in your mouth and when it comes out the other
end. This is why his view of things covered both cause and
effect. He didn't look at things from one side only.
The Buddha saw
that the ease and happiness of ordinary pleasures is nothing
lasting. He wanted an ease and happiness that didn't follow
the way of the worldly pleasures that most people want. This
was why he left his family and friends, and went off to live
in seclusion. He said to himself, "I came alone when I was
born and I'll go alone when I die. No one hired me to be
born and no one will hire me to die, so I'm beholden to no
one. There's no one I have to fear. In all of my actions, if
there's anything that's right from the standpoint of the
world, but wrong from the standpoint of the truth and
wrong from the standpoint of my heart there's no way I'll
be willing to do it."
So he posed
himself a question: "Now that you've been born as a human
being, what is the highest thing you want in this world?" He
then placed the following conditions on his answer: "In
answering, you have to be really honest and truthful with
yourself. And once you've answered, you have to hold to your
answer as an unalterable law on which you've affixed your
seal, without ever letting a second seal be affixed on top.
So what do you want, and how do you want it? You have to
give an honest answer, understand? I won't accept anything
false. And once you've answered, you have to keep to your
answer. Don't be a traitor to yourself."
When he was
sure of his answer, he said to himself, "I want only the
highest and most certain happiness and ease: the happiness
that won't change into anything else. Other than that, I
don't want anything else in the world."
Once he had
given this answer, he kept to it firmly. He didn't allow
anything that would have caused the least bit of pain or
distraction to his heart to get stuck there as a stain on
it. He kept making a persistent effort with all his might to
discover the truth, without retreat, until he finally
awakened to that truth: the reality of Liberation.
If we search
for the truth like the Buddha if we're true in our intent
and true in what we do there's no way the truth can escape
us. But if we aren't true to ourselves, we won't find the
true happiness the Buddha found. We tell ourselves that we
want to be happy but we go jumping into fires. We know what
things are poison, yet we go ahead and drink them anyway.
This is called being a traitor to yourself.
* * *
Every person
alive wants happiness even common animals struggle to find
happiness but our actions for the most part aren't in line
with our intentions. This is why we don't get to realize the
happiness we want, simply because there's no truth to us.
For example, when people come to the monastery: If they come
to make offerings, observe the precepts, and sit in
meditation for the sake of praise or a good reputation,
there's no real merit to what they're doing. They don't gain
any real happiness from it, so they end up disappointed and
dissatisfied. Then they start saying that offerings,
precepts, and meditation don't give any good results.
Instead of reflecting on the fact that they weren't right
and honest in doing these things, they say that there's no
real good to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, that the
Buddha's teachings are a lot of nonsense and lies. But
actually the Buddha's teachings are an affair of the truth.
If a person isn't true to the Buddha's teachings, the
Buddha's teachings won't be true to that person and
that person won't be able to know what the Buddha's true
teachings are.
* * *
When we
practice virtue, concentration, and discernment, it's as if
we were taking the jewels and robes of royalty and the Noble
Ones to dress up our heart and make it beautiful. But if we
aren't true in our practice, it's like taking robes and
jewels and giving them to a monkey. The monkey is bound to
get them dirty and tear them to shreds because it has no
sense of beauty at all. Whoever sees this kind of thing
happening is sure to see right through it, that it's a
monkey show. Even though the costumes are genuine, the
monkey inside isn't genuine like the costumes. For instance,
if you take a soldier's cap and uniform to dress it up as a
soldier, it's a soldier only as far as the cap and uniform,
but the monkey inside is still a monkey and not a soldier at
all.
For this
reason, the Buddha teaches us to be true in whatever we do
true in being generous, true in being virtuous, true in
developing concentration and discernment. Don't play around
at these things. If you're true, then these activities are
sure to bear you the fruits of your own truthfulness without
a doubt.
May 22, 1959
In Christianity
they teach that if you've done wrong or committed a sin, you
can ask to wash it away by confessing the sin and asking for
God's forgiveness. God will then have the kindness to hold
back punishment, and you'll be pure. But Buddhism doesn't
teach this sort of thing at all. If you do wrong, you
are the one who has to correct the error so as to do away
with the punishment on your own behalf. What this means is
that when a defilement greed, anger, or delusion arises
in your heart, you have to undo the defilement right there
so as to escape from it. Only then will you escape from the
suffering that would otherwise come as its natural
consequence.
We can compare
this to a man who drinks poison and comes down with violent
stomach cramps. If he then runs to a doctor and says,
"Doctor, doctor, I've drunk poison and my stomach really
hurts. Please take some medicine for me so that the pain
will go away," there's no way that this is going to cure the
pain. If the doctor, instead of the sick man, is the one who
takes the medicine, the sick man can expect to die for sure.
So I ask that
we all understand this point: that we have to wash away our
own defilements by practicing the Dhamma the medicine of
the Buddha in order to gain release from any evil and
suffering in our hearts; not that we can ask the Buddha to
help wash away our mistakes and sufferings for us. The
Buddha is simply the doctor who has discovered the formula
for the medicine and prepared it for us. Whatever disease we
have, we need to take the medicine and treat the disease
ourselves if we want to recover.
July 28, 1959
If the heart
doesn't have any inner nourishment, it won't have any
strength, because it's hungry and thin. When it doesn't have
any nourishment, it goes out eating whatever it can find
bones and old dry skins without finding any decent food to
eat or water to drink at all. This is why it ends up
shriveled and dry, because the heart, if it doesn't have any
inner goodness, is thin and gaunt, and goes running around
all sorts of back alleys, scraping together whatever it can
find just for the sake of having something to stick in its
mouth. It doesn't get to eat anything good at all, though.
It can't find a single thing to give it any flavor or
nourishment. But if the heart is strong and well-fed, then
whatever it thinks of doing is sure to succeed.
The Buddha saw
that we human beings are thin and malnourished in this way,
which is why he felt compassion for us. He taught us, "The
mind that goes around swallowing sights, sounds, smells,
tastes, and tactile sensations is eating a ball of fire, you
know. Not any kind of food." In other words, "The eye is
burning." Everything we see with the eye is a form, and each
of these forms contains a ball of fire, even though on the
outside it's coated to look pretty and attractive. "The ear
is burning." All the pleasing sounds we search for, and that
come passing in through our ears from the day we're born to
the day we die, are burning sounds, are flames of fire. The
heat of the sun can't burn you to death, but sounds can
burn you to death, which is why we say they're hotter than
the sun. "The nose is burning." We've been smelling smells
ever since the doctor cleaned out our nose right after
birth, and the nature of smells is that there's no such
thing as a neutral smell. There are only two kinds: good
smelling and foul-smelling. If our strength is down and
we're not alert, we swallow these smells right into the mind
and that means we've swallowed a time bomb. We're safe
only as long as nothing ignites the fuse. "The tongue is
burning." Countless tastes come passing over our tongue. If
we get attached to them, it's as if we've eaten a ball of
fire: As soon as it explodes, our intestines will come
splattering out. If we human beings let ourselves get tied
up in this sort of thing, it's as if we've eaten the fire
bombs of the King of Death. As soon as they explode, we're
finished. But if we know enough to spit them out, we'll be
safe. If we swallow them, we're loading ourselves down. We
won't be able to find any peace whether we're sitting,
standing, walking, or lying down, because we're on fire
inside. Only when we breathe our last will the fires go out.
"The body is burning." Tactile sensations are also a fire
that wipes human beings out. If you don't have any inner
worth or goodness in your mind, these things can really do
you a lot of damage.
* * *
Greed, anger,
and delusion are like three enormous balls of red-hot iron
that the King of Death heats until they're glowing hot and
then pokes into our heads. When greed doesn't get what it
wants, it turns into anger. Once we're angry, we get
overcome and lose control, so that it turns into delusion.
We forget everything good, bad, our husbands, wives,
parents, children to the point where we can even kill our
husbands, wives, parents, and children. This is all an
affair of delusion. When these three defilements get mixed
up in our minds, they can take us to hell with no trouble at
all. This is why they're called fire bombs in the human
heart.
But if, when
greed arises, we have the sense to take only what should be
taken and not what shouldn't, it won't wipe us out even
though it's burning us, because we have fire insurance.
People without fire insurance are those with really strong
greed to the point where they're willing to cheat and get
involved in corruption or crime. When this happens, their
inner fires wipe them out. To have fire insurance means that
even though we feel greed, we can hold it in check and be
generous with our belongings by giving donations, for
instance, to the religion. Then even though we may die from
our greed, we've still gained inner worth from making
donations as an act of homage to the Buddha, Dhamma, and
Sangha which is like keeping our insurance payments up.
This way, even though our house may burn down, we'll still
have some property left.
Anger. When
this defilement really gets strong, it has no sense of good
or evil, right or wrong, husband, wives, or children. It can
drink human blood. An example we often see is when people
get quarreling and one of them ends up in prison or even on
death row, convicted for murder. This is even worse than
your house burning down, because you have nothing left at
all. For this reason, we have to get ourselves some life
insurance by observing the five or eight precepts so that we
can treat and bandage our open sores i.e., so that we can
wash away the evil and unwise things in our thoughts, words,
and deeds. Even if we can't wash them all away, we should
try at least to relieve them somewhat. Although you may
still have some fire left, let there just be enough to cook
your food or light your home. Don't let there be so much
that it burns your house down.
The only way
to put out these fires is to meditate and develop thoughts
of good will. The mind won't feel any anger, hatred, or
ill will, and instead will feel nothing but thoughts of
sympathy, seeing that everyone in the world aims at
goodness, but that our goodness isn't equal. You have to use
really careful discernment to consider cause and effect, and
then be forgiving, with the thought that we human beings
aren't equal or identical in our goodness and evil. If
everyone were equal, the world would fall apart. If we were
equally good or equally bad, the world would have to fall
apart for sure. Suppose that all the people in the world
were farmers, with no merchants or government officials. Or
suppose there were only government officials, with no
farmers at all: We'd all starve to death with our mouths
gaping and dry. If everyone were equal and identical, the
end of the world would come in only a few days' time.
Consider your body: Even the different parts of your own
body aren't equal. Some of your fingers are short, some are
long, some small, some large. If all ten of your fingers
were equal, you'd have a monster's hands. So when even your
own fingers aren't equal, how can you expect people to be
equal in terms of their thoughts, words, and deeds? You have
to think this way and be forgiving.
* * *
When you can
think in this way, your good will can spread to all people
everywhere, and you'll feel sympathy for people on high
levels, low levels, and in between. The big ball of fire
inside you will go out through the power of your good will
and loving kindness.
This comes from
getting life insurance: practicing tranquillity meditation
so as to chase the defilements away from the mind. Thoughts
of sensual desire, ill will, lethargy, restlessness, and
uncertainty will vanish, and the mind will be firmly
centered in concentration, using its powers of directed
thought to stay with its meditation word buddho
and its powers of evaluation to create a sense of inner
lightness and ease. When the mind fills itself with rapture
the flavor arising from concentration it will have its
own inner food and nourishment, so that whatever you do in
thought, word, or deed is sure to succeed.
July, 1958;
August 10, 1957
There are two
kinds of food for the mind: the kind that gives it strength
and the kind that saps its strength. What this refers to is
(1) the food of sensory contact the contact that takes
place at the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and intellect.
There are six mouthfuls of this kind of food. (2) The food
of consciousness, i.e., the consciousness of contact that
takes place at each of the six senses. There are six
mouthfuls of this kind, too. (3) The food of intention or
mental concomitants, i.e., the thoughts that are formed in
the heart, leading it to think of the past or future and to
know if things are good or bad, pleasant or painful. Once we
know that our body and mind depend on these kinds of food,
we should use our discernment to reflect on them and
evaluate them carefully.
Discernment is
what forms the teeth of the mind. When children are small,
they need to depend on others to mince or strain their food;
but when they grow up, they have their own teeth and don't
need to depend on anyone else. If people are really
discerning, they don't need to chew coarse food at all. For
example, an intelligent hunter, once he's killed an animal,
will remove the feathers and wings or cut off the antlers
and hooves and take home just the useful part. Then he cuts
the meat off in pieces so that it can serve as food. In
other words, if he's intelligent, he throws away the
inedible parts piece by piece.
In the same
way, intelligent people who want the inner quality of
dispassion have to take the discernment that comes from
concentration and use it to evaluate sights, sounds, smells,
tastes, etc., so that these things can serve a purpose and
not do them any harm. Whoever eats an entire fish bones,
scales, fins, feces, and all is sure to choke to death on
the bones. For this reason, we have to find a knife and
chopping block in other words, use mindfulness to focus
on, say, a visual object, and discernment to consider what
kind of object it is. Is it something we should get involved
with or not? What kind of benefits or harm will it cause for
the mind? If it's a visual object that will cause harm to
the mind, you shouldn't get involved with it. If it's a
good-looking object, look for its bad side as well. Be a
person with two eyes. Sometimes an object looks good, but we
don't look for its bad side. Sometimes it looks bad, but we
don't look for its good side. If something looks beautiful,
you have to focus on its bad side as well. If it looks bad,
you have to focus on its good side, too.
If you aren't
selective in what you eat, you can ruin your health.
Pleasing objects are like sugar and honey: They're sure to
attract all sorts of ants and flies. Disagreeable objects
are like filth: In addition to carrying germs, they're sure
to attract all sorts of other bad things, too, because
they're crawling with flies and worms. If we aren't
discerning, we'll gobble down the filth together with the
worms and smelly parts, and the sugar together with the ants
and flies. Your heart is already in poor health, and yet you
go gobbling down things that are toxic. When this happens,
no one can cure you but you yourself.
For this
reason, you have to keep the heart neutral, on the middle
path. Don't be pleased by the objects you think are
pleasing; don't hate the objects you think are disagreeable.
Don't be a person with only one eye or one ear. When you can
do this, you're equipped with discernment. You can spit
visual objects, sounds, smells, tastes, etc., out of the
heart. Once you can see that "good" has "bad" hiding behind
it, and "bad" has "good" hiding behind it in the same way
that the body has both a front and a back you shouldn't
let yourself fall for sights, sounds, smells, etc. You have
to consider them carefully.
The mind has
two basic sorts of food: good mental states and bad mental
states. If you think in ways that are good, you'll give
strength to the mind. If you're discerning, you'll get to
eat fine food. If you aren't, you'll have to eat crude food
e.g., you'll get a crab and you'll eat the whole thing
raw, without knowing how to boil it and peel away the shell
and the claws. The effort of meditation is like a fire;
concentration is like a pot; mindfulness, like a chopping
block; and discernment, a knife. Intelligent people will use
these things to prepare their food so that its nourishment
the nourishment of the Dhamma will permeate into the heart
to give it five kinds of strength:
(1) The
strength of conviction.
(2) The
strength of persistence: The heart, when we're persistent,
is like the wheels of an automobile that keep turning and
propelling it toward its goal, enabling us to see the
gains that come from our persistence.
(3) The
strength of mindfulness: Having mindfulness is like
knowing when to open and when to close your windows and
doors.
(4) The
strength of concentration: Concentration will be firmly
established in the mind whether we're sitting, standing,
walking, lying down, speaking, or listening. We can listen
without getting stuck on what's said, and speak without
getting stuck on what we say.
(5) The
strength of discernment: We'll gain wisdom and
understanding with regard to all things, so that
eventually we'll attain purity of mind by letting go of
all thoughts of past and future, and not being pleased or
displeased by any sights, sounds, smells, tastes, etc., at
all.
October 6,
1958
There are three
ways in which people order their priorities: putting the
world first, putting themselves first, and putting the
Dhamma first.
Putting the
world first: There's nothing at all dependable about the
affairs of the world. Stop and think for a moment: Ever
since you were born, from your first memory up to the
present day, what is the best thing that has ever happened
in your life? What is the most enjoyable thing? What have
you liked the most? If you answer, you have to say that of
all the things in the world, only 50 percent are
satisfactory; the other 50 are unsatisfactory. But if you
asked me, I'd answer that there's nothing satisfactory about
the world at all. There's nothing but stress and misery. You
get friends and they take advantage of you. You get
possessions and you have to worry about them. You get money
and you end up suffering for it. The people you work with
aren't as good as you'd like them to be. Your family and
relatives are nothing but trouble. In short, I don't see
anything that really brings a person any real happiness. You
get money and it brings trouble. You get friends and they
make you suffer. The people you live and work with don't get
along smoothly. This is the way it is with the world. For
this reason, anyone whose mind runs along in the current of
the world is bound for nothing but pain and sorrow. The
Buddha taught, "For the mind not to be affected by the ways
of the world is to be serene and free from sorrow: This is
the highest good fortune."
The world has
eight edges, and each edge is razor sharp, capable of
slicing human beings to bits without mercy. The eight edges
of the world are, on the one side, the edge of wealth, the
edge of status, the edge of praise, and the edge of
pleasure. These four edges are especially sharp because
they're things we like. We keep polishing and sharpening
them, and the more we do this the sharper they get, until
ultimately they turn around and slit our throats.
The other side
has four edges too, but actually they're not so sharp,
because no one likes to use them. No one wants them, so no
one sharpens them, and as a result they're dull and blunt
and like dull knives, they can't kill anyone. These four
edges are loss of wealth, loss of status, criticism, and
pain. No one wants any of these things, but they have to
exist as part of the world.
How are the
sharp edges sharp? Take status for an example. As soon as
people gain status and rank, they start swelling up larger
than they really are. You don't have to look far for
examples of this sort of thing. Look at monks. When they
start out as ordinary junior monks, they can go anywhere
with no trouble at all, along highways and byways, down
narrow alleys and back streets, anywhere they like. But as
soon as they start getting a little ecclesiastical rank,
they start getting abnormally large. The roads they used to
walk along start feeling too narrow. They have trouble
walking anywhere their legs are too long and their feet
too heavy. Their rears are too large for ordinary seats. (Of
course, not all high-ranking monks are like this. You can
find ones who don't swell up.) As for lay people, once
they're hit by the edge of status, they start swelling up
too, to the point where they can hardly move. Their hands
get too heavy to raise in respect to the Buddha. Their legs
get so big they can't make it to the monastery to hear a
sermon or observe the precepts they're afraid they'd lose
their edge. This is how one of the edges of the world kills
the goodness in people.
As for the edge
of wealth, this refers to money and possessions. As soon as
we get a lot, we start getting stingy. We become wary of
making too many offerings or of being too generous with
others because we're afraid we'll run out of money. This is
why rich people tend to be stingy and drown in their wealth.
As for poor people, they can give away everything and then
work to replace it. They can give offerings and be generous,
with rarely any sense of regret. Their arms and legs aren't
too big, so they can come to the monastery with no trouble
at all.
The edge of
pleasure is very sharp, because wherever you get your
pleasure, that's where you get stuck. If your pleasure comes
from your friends, you're stuck on your friends. If your
pleasure comes from your children or grandchildren, you're
stuck on your children and grandchildren. If your pleasure
comes from eating, sleeping, or going out at night, then
that's where you're stuck. You're not willing to trade in
your pleasure for the sake of inner worth because you're
afraid of letting your pleasure fall from your grasp. You
can't observe the five or eight precepts because they make
you force and deny yourself. If you observe the eight
precepts, you can't go see a movie or show and can't sleep
on a nice soft mattress. You're afraid that if you miss one
evening meal, you'll get hungry or weak. You don't want to
sit and meditate because you're afraid your back will hurt
or your legs will go numb. So this is how the edge of
pleasure destroys your goodness.
As for the edge
of praise, this too is razor sharp. When people are praised,
they start floating and don't want to come down. They hear
praise and it's so captivating that they forget themselves
and think that they're already good enough so they won't
think of making the effort to make themselves better in
other ways.
All four of
these edges are weapons that kill our goodness. They're like
the paint people use on houses to make them pretty:
something that can last only a while and then has to fade
and peel away. If you can view these things simply as part
of the passing scenery, without getting stuck on them, they
won't do you any harm. But if you latch onto them as really
being your own, the day is sure to come when you'll have to
meet with disappointment loss of wealth, loss of status,
criticism, and pain because it's a law of nature that
however far things advance, that's how far they have to
regress. If you don't lose them while you're alive, you'll
lose them when you die. They can't stay permanent and
lasting.
Once we realize
this truth, then when we meet with any of the good edges of
the world we shouldn't get so carried away that we forget
ourselves; and when we meet with any of the bad edges we
shouldn't let ourselves get so discouraged or sad that we
lose hope. Stick to your duties as you always have. Don't
let your goodness suffer because of these eight ways of the
world.
Putting
yourself first: This means acting, speaking and thinking
whatever way you like without any thought for what's right
or wrong, good or bad. In other words, you feel you have the
right to do whatever you want. You may see, for instance,
that something isn't good, and you know that other people
don't like it, but you like it, so you go ahead and do it.
Or you may see that something is good, but you don't like
it, so you don't do it. Sometimes you may like something,
and it's good, but you don't do it it's good, but you just
can't do it.
When you're
practicing the Dhamma, though, then whether or not you like
something, you have to make yourself do it. You have to
make the Dhamma your life, and your life into Dhamma if
you want to succeed. You can't use the principle of giving
priority to your own likes at all.
Putting the
Dhamma first: This is an important principle for those
who practice. The duties of every Buddhist are (1) to
develop virtue by observing the precepts, (2) to center the
mind in concentration, and (3) to use discernment to
investigate the truth without giving rein to defilement.
The basic level
of virtue is to prevent our words and deeds from being bad
or evil. This means observing the five precepts: not killing
any living beings, not stealing, not engaging in illicit
sex, not lying, and not taking intoxicants. These are the
precepts that wash away the gross stains on our conduct.
They're precepts that turn us from common animals into human
beings and prevent us from falling into states of
deprivation and woe.
The
intermediate level of virtue turns human beings into
celestial beings. This refers to restraint of the senses:
keeping watch over the way we react to our senses of sight,
hearing, smell, taste, feeling, and ideation so that they
don't give rise to bad mental states. This can turn human
beings into celestial beings, but even then we haven't
escaped from death and rebirth, because when celestial
beings run out of merit they have to come back and be reborn
as human beings again. They still have to keep swimming
around in the cycle of rebirth.
Those who can
gain release from all forms of evil, however, won't have to
be reborn as animals, human beings, or celestial beings ever
again. This refers to people who practice concentration and
can abandon all evil in their hearts by developing the
stages of absorption (jhana) and discernment until
they reach the level of nonreturning. When they die, they go
to the Brahma worlds, and there they develop their hearts
still further, purifying them of all defilements, becoming
arahants and ultimately attaining total Liberation.
The basic level
of virtue protects our words and deeds from being evil. The
intermediate level protects our senses and keeps them clean
which means that we don't let the three defilements of
passion, aversion, and delusion be provoked into action by
what we see, hear, smell, taste, touch, or think.
As for the
highest level of virtue inner virtue this means giving
rise to Right Concentration within the mind:
(1) On this
level, "not killing" means not killing off your goodness.
For instance, if bad thoughts arise and you aren't careful
to wipe them out, their evil will come pouring in and your
goodness will have to die. This is because your mind is
still caught up on good and evil. Sometimes you use good to
kill evil. Sometimes you use evil to kill good: This is
called killing yourself.
(2) "Stealing"
on this level refers to the way the mind likes to take the
good and bad points of other people to think about. This
sort of mind is a thief because we've never once asked
other people whether they're possessive of their good and
bad points or are willing to share them with us. For the
most part, what we take is their old dried up garbage. I.e.,
we like to focus on their bad points. Even though they may
have good points, we don't let ourselves see them. We take
our own opinions as our guide and as a result we end up as
fools without realizing it.
(3) "Illicit
sensuality" on this level refers to the state of mind that
is stuck on sights, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile
sensations, and ideas, or that lies fermenting in greed,
anger, and delusion. In other words, the mind is impure and
is always involved with sensual objects and moods.
(4) "Lying" on
this level means not being true. How are we not true? We
come to the monastery but our minds are at home. We listen
to the sermon but our hearts are thinking of something else.
Our bodies may be sitting in the meditation position, just
like the Buddha, but our minds are roaming around through
all sorts of thoughts, gnawing on the past, nibbling at the
future, not finding any meat at all. This is called lying to
yourself and to others as well. How is it lying to others?
Suppose you go home and someone asks, "Where did you go
today?" and you answer, "I went to the monastery to listen
to a sermon." Actually, your body came, but you didn't come.
Your body listened, but you didn't listen. This has to be
classed as a kind of lying.
(5)
"Intoxication" on this level refers to delusion and
absentmindedness. If we're going to contemplate body,
feelings, mind, and mental qualities, our minds have to be
still and really focused on these things. But if we're
absentminded and forgetful, our minds go down the wrong
path, weaving in and out, back and forth like a drunkard.
Sometimes we end up falling down in a stupor and lying there
on the side of the road. Nothing good will come of it.
Those who are
careful to keep their minds firmly centered in concentration
and to keep the five precepts on this level pure and whole,
though, are said to be developing the highest perfection of
virtue showing respect for the Dhamma above and beyond the
world, above and beyond themselves. This is called putting
the Dhamma first in a way befitting those who practice it.
This is what it means to be a true Buddhist in a way that
will eventually lead us to release from all suffering and
stress.
Now I'd like to
explain a little about how to meditate. Sitting in
meditation is a worthwhile activity. The outer part of the
activity is to sit in a half-lotus position with your right
leg on top of your left leg; your hands palm-up in your lap,
your right hand on top of your left. Keep your body erect.
Close your eyes, but don't close them off like a person
asleep. Your optic nerves have to keep working to some
extent or else you'll get drowsy.
These
activities are the outer aspects of good meditation, but
they aren't what makes the meditation good. You also need to
have the right object for the mind to dwell on, and the
right intention: the intention to keep the in-and-out breath
in mind, to adjust it so that it's comfortable, and to keep
the breath and mind together so that they don't slip away
from each other. When you can do this properly, you'll gain
beneficial results in terms of both body and mind i.e.,
the right quality you're looking for, termed "inner worth,"
which means a soothing sense of ease, comfort, fullness, and
well-being.
When you sit
and meditate, keep noticing whether or not your mind is
staying with the in-and-out breath. You have to keep
mindfulness in charge of the mind. For example, when you
breathe in, think bud; when you breathe out, think
dho. Bud-dho. Be mindful. Don't let yourself
forget or slip away. Put aside all your outside
responsibilities and let go of all outside thoughts and
perceptions. Keep your mind with nothing but the breath. You
don't have to turn your attention to anything else.
Usually when
you sit and meditate, though, thoughts of past and future
tend to appear and get in the way of the quality of your
meditation. Thoughts of this sort whether they're about
things past or yet to come, about the world or the Dhamma
have no good to them at all. They'll simply cause you
trouble and suffering. They make the mind restless and
disturbed so that it can't gain any peace and calm because
things that are past have already passed. There's no way you
can bring them back or change them. Things in the future
haven't reached us yet, so we can't know whether or not
they'll be in line with our expectations. They're far away
and uncertain, so there's no way they'll be any help to our
thinking at all.
For this
reason, we have to keep hold on the mind to keep it in the
present by fixing it on nothing but the breath. To think
about the breath is called directed thought, as when we
think buddho together with the breath bud in,
dho out, like we're doing right now. When we start
evaluating the breath, we let go of buddho and start
observing how far the effects of each in-and-out breath can
be felt in the body. When the breath comes in, does it feel
comfortable or not? When it goes out, does it feel relaxed
or not? If it doesn't feel comfortable and relaxed, change
it. When you keep the mind preoccupied with investigating
the breath, let go of buddho. You don't have any need
for it. Mindful awareness will fill the body, and the
in-breath will start to feel as if it's permeating the body
throughout. When we let go of buddho, our evaluation
of the breath becomes more refined; the movement of the mind
will calm down and become concentration; outside perceptions
will fall silent. "Falling silent" doesn't mean that our
ears go blank or become deaf. It means that our attention
doesn't go running to outside perceptions or to thoughts of
past or future. Instead, it stays exclusively in the
present.
When we fix our
attention on the breath in this way, constantly keeping
watch and being observant of how the breath is flowing,
we'll come to know what the in-breath and out-breath are
like, whether or not they're comfortable, what way of
breathing in makes us feel good, what way of breathing out
makes us feel good, what way of breathing makes us feel
tense and uncomfortable. If the breath feels uncomfortable,
try to adjust it so that it gives rise to a sense of comfort
and ease.
When we keep
surveying and evaluating the breath in this way, mindfulness
and alertness will take charge within us. Stillness will
develop, discernment will develop, knowledge will develop
within us.
August 13,
1956
When you sit
and meditate, you should keep in mind the factors that make
it a worthwhile activity:
(1) The right
object for the mind i.e., the breath, which is the theme
of your meditation.
(2) The right
intention. This means that you focus your mind steadily on
what you're doing and nothing else, with the purpose of
making it settle down firmly in stillness.
(3) The right
quality inner worth i.e., the calm and ease you gain
from your practice of concentration.
* * *
To have the
right object while you sit and meditate, you should have
your mind set on giving your heart solely to the qualities
of the Buddha. What this means is that you focus on your
in-and-out breathing together with the word buddho,
without thinking of anything else. This is your object or
foundation for the mind. The mental side of the object is
the word buddho, but if you just think, buddho,
buddho, without joining it up with your breathing, you
won't get the results you want, because simply thinking on
its own is too weak to have a hold on the mind, and as a
result it doesn't fulfill all the factors of meditation. The
mind won't be snug enough with its object to stay firmly put
in its stillness, and so will show signs of wavering.
Since this is
the case, you have to find something to give it some
resistance, something for it to hold onto, in the same way
that a nail you drive into a board will hold it firmly to a
post and not let it move. A mind without something to hold
onto is bound not to be snug and firm with its object. This
is why we're taught to think also of the breath, which is
the physical side of our object, together with buddho,
thinking bud in with the in-breath, and dho
out with the out.
As for the
factor of intention in your meditation, you have to be
intent on your breathing. Don't leave it to the breath to
happen on its own as you normally do. You have to be intent
on synchronizing your thought of the in-breath with the
in-breath, and your thought of the out-breath with the out.
If your thinking is faster or slower than your breathing, it
won't work. You have to be intent on keeping your thinking
in tandem with the breath. If you breathe in this way, this
is the intention that forms the act (kamma) of your
meditation (kammatthana). If you simply let the
breath happen on its own, it's no longer a theme of
meditation. It's simply the breath. So you have to be
careful and intent at all times to keep the mind in place
when you breathe in, and in place when you breathe out. When
you breathe in, the mind has to think bud. When you
breathe out, it has to think dho. This is the way
your meditation has to be.
The quality of
inner worth in centering the mind comes when you make the
body and mind feel soothed and relaxed. Don't let yourself
feel tense or constricted. Let the breath have its freedom.
Don't block it or hold it, force it or squeeze it. You have
to let it flow smoothly and easily. Like washing a shirt and
hanging it out to dry: Let the sun shine and the wind blow,
and the water will drip away by itself. In no time at all
the shirt will be clean and dry. When you meditate, it's as
if you were washing your body and mind. If you want the body
to feel clean and fresh inside, you have to put it at its
ease. Put your eyes at ease, your ears at ease, your hands,
feet, arms, and legs all at their ease. Put your body at
ease in every way and at the same time don't let your mind
get involved in any outside thoughts. Let them all drop
away.
* * *
When you wash
your mind so that it's clean and pure, it's bound to become
bright within itself with knowledge and understanding.
Things you never knew or thought of before will appear to
you. The Buddha thus taught that the brightness of the mind
is discernment. When this discernment arises, it can give us
knowledge about ourselves of how the body got to be the
way it is and how the mind got to be the way it is. This is
called knowledge of form and name or of physical and mental
phenomena.
Discernment is
like a sail on a sailboat: The wider it's spread, the faster
the boat will go. If it's tattered and torn, it won't catch
the wind, and the boat will have to go slowly or might not
even reach its goal at all. But if the sail is in good
shape, it will take the boat quickly to its destination. The
same holds true with our discernment. If our knowledge is
only in bits and pieces, it won't be able to pull our minds
up to the current of the Dhamma. We may end up sinking or
giving up because we aren't true and sincere in what we do.
When this is the case, we won't be able to get any results.
Our good qualities will fall away and sink into our bad
ones. Why will they sink? Because our sails don't catch the
wind. And why is that? Because they're torn into shreds. And
why are they torn? Because we don't take care of them, so
they wear out fast and end up tattered and torn.
This is because
the mind spends all its time entangled with thoughts and
ideas. It doesn't settle down into stillness, so its
discernment is tattered and torn. When our discernment is in
bits and pieces like this, it leads us down to a low level
like a log or post that we leave lying flat on the ground,
exposed to all sorts of dangers: Termites may eat it or
people and animals may trample all over it, because it's
left in a low place. But if we stand it up on its end in a
posthole, it's free from these dangers, apart from the minor
things that can happen to the part buried in the ground.
The same holds
true with the mind. If we let it drift along in its ideas,
instead of catching hold of it and making it stand firmly in
one place i.e., if we let it make its nest all the time in
concepts and thoughts it's bound to get defiled and sink
to a low level. This is why the Buddha taught us to practice
centering the mind in concentration so that it will stand
firm in a single object. When the mind is centered, it's
free from turmoil and confusion, like a person who has
finished his work. The body is soothed and rested, the mind
is refreshed and when the mind is refreshed, it becomes
steady, still, and advances to a higher level, like a person
on a high vantage point the top of a mountain, the mast of
a boat, or a tall tree able to see all kinds of things in
every direction, near or far, better than a person in a low
place like a valley or ravine. In a low place, the sun is
visible for only a few hours of the day, and there are
corners where the daylight never reaches at all. A mind that
hasn't been trained to stand firm in its goodness is sure to
fall to a low level and not be bright. But if we train our
minds to a higher and higher level, we'll be sure to see
things both near and far, and to meet up with brightness.
These are some
of the rewards that come from centering the mind in
concentration. When we start seeing these rewards, we're
bound to develop conviction. When we feel conviction, we
become inspired to pull our minds even further in the same
way that a sail that isn't torn can take a boat to its
destination without any trouble. This is one point I want to
make.
Another point
is that discernment can also be compared to an airplane
propeller. When we sit here stilling our minds, it's as if
we were flying an airplane up into the sky. If the pilot is
sleepy, lazy, or in a blur, we're not safe. No matter how
fantastic the plane may be, it can still crash us into a
mountain or the forest wilds, because the pilot doesn't have
any mindfulness or alertness. So when we sit meditating,
it's like we're flying an airplane. If our mindfulness is
weak and our mind keeps wandering off, our airplane may end
up crashing. So we have to keep observing the body to see
where at the moment it feels painful or tense; and keep
check on the mind to see whether or not it's staying with
the body in the present. If the mind isn't with the body,
it's as if the pilot isn't staying with his airplane. The
Hindrances will have an opening to arise and destroy our
stillness. So when we sit and meditate, we have to make sure
that we don't get absentminded. We have to be mindful and
alert at all times and not let the mind slip away anywhere
else. When we can do this, we'll develop a sense of comfort
and ease, and will begin to see the benefits that come from
mental stillness.
This insight is
the beginning of discernment. This discernment is like an
airplane propeller. The more we practice, the more benefits
we'll see. We'll be able to take our plane as high as we
want, land it whenever we feel like it, or try any stunts
that occur to us. In other words, when we develop
discernment within ourselves we can have control over our
mind. If we want it to think, it'll think. If we don't
want it to think, it won't think. We know how to keep our
own mind in line. If we can't keep ourselves in line,
there's no way we can expect to keep anyone else in line. So
if we're intelligent, it's like being a pilot who can keep a
plane under his full control. We can keep the mind in line.
For example, if it thinks of something bad, we can order it
to stop and rest, and the thought will disappear. This is
called keeping the mind in line. Or if we want it to think,
it will be able to think and to know. Once it knows, that's
the end of the matter, and so it will then stop thinking.
Whatever we want it to do, it can do for us. According to
the Buddha, people like this are called sages because they
have discernment: Whatever they do, they really do. They
know what is harmful and what isn't. They know how to put a
stop to their thinking and as a result they very rarely meet
with suffering.
As for stupid
people, they simply fool around and drag their feet, pulling
themselves back when they should go forward, and forward
when they should go back, spending their days and nights
thinking about all kinds of nonsense without any substance.
Even when they sleep, they keep thinking. Their minds never
have any chance to rest at all. And when their minds are
forced to keep working like this, they're bound to run down
and wear out, and won't give any good results when they're
put to use. When this happens, they suffer.
But if we have
the discernment to be alert to events, we can let go of what
should be let go, stop what should be stopped, and think
about what needs to be thought about. We can speak when we
should speak, act when we should act or simply stay still
if that's what's called for. People who work day and night
without sleeping, without giving their bodies a chance to
rest, are killing themselves. In the same way, thoughts and
concepts are things that bring on the end of our life and
destroy our mind because they keep the mind working
whether we're sitting, standing, walking, or lying down.
Sometimes, even when we're just sitting alone, we keep
thinking which means we're killing ourselves, because the
mind never gets a chance to rest. Its strength keeps eroding
away; and eventually, when its strength is all gone, its
good qualities will have to die.
So when we sit
here centering our minds, it's like eating our fill, bathing
ourselves till we're thoroughly clean, and then taking a
good nap. When we wake up, we feel bright, refreshed, and
strong enough to take on any job at all.
This is why the
Buddha was able to develop such strength of mind that he was
able to do without food, for example, for seven full days
and yet not feel tired or weak. This was because his mind
was able to rest and be still in the four levels of
absorption. His concentration was strong and gave great
strength to his body, his speech, and his mind. The strength
it gave to his body is what enabled him to wander about,
teaching people in every city and town throughout Northern
India. Sometimes he had to walk over rough roads through
desolate places, but he was never tired in any way.
As for the
strength of his speech, he was able to keep teaching,
without respite, from the day of his Awakening to the day of
his final passing away a total of 45 years.
And as for the
strength of his mind, he was very astute, capable of
teaching his disciples so that thousands of them were able
to become arahants. He was able to convince large numbers of
people who were stubborn, proud, and entrenched in wrong
views, to abandon their views and become his disciples. His
heart was full of kindness, compassion, and sincerity, with
no feelings of anger, hatred, or malice toward anyone at
all. It was a pure heart, without blemish.
All of these
qualities came from the Dhamma he had practiced not from
anything strange or mysterious the same Dhamma we're
practicing right now. The important thing is that we have to
be intent on really doing it if we want to get results. If,
when we center the mind, we really do it, we'll get real
results. If we don't really do it, we'll get nothing but
playthings and dolls. That's how it is with the practice.
September 28,
1958
The four
properties of the body the way it feels from the inside,
i.e., earth (solidity), water (liquidity), wind (motion),
and fire (heat) are like four people. If you keep trying
to acquaint yourself with them, after a while they'll become
your friends.
At first they
aren't too familiar with you, so they don't trust you and
will probably want to test your mettle. For instance, when
you start sitting in meditation, they'll take a stick and
poke you in your legs so that your legs hurt or grow numb.
If you lie down, they'll poke you in the back. If you lie on
your side, they'll poke you in the waist. If you get up and
sit again, they'll test you again. Or they may whisper to
you to give up. If you give in to them, the King of Death
will grin until his cheeks hurt.
What you have
to do is smile against the odds and see things through. Keep
talking with all four properties. Even though they don't
respond at first, you have to keep talking with them, asking
them this and that. After a while they'll give you a
one-word answer. So you keep talking and then their answers
will start getting longer until you eventually become
acquaintances and can have real conversations. From that
point they become your friends. They'll love you and help
you and tell you their secrets. You'll be a person with
friends and won't have to be lonely. You'll eat together,
sleep together, and wherever you go, you'll go together.
You'll feel secure. No matter how long you sit, you won't
ache. No matter how long you walk, you won't feel tired
because you have friends to talk with as you walk along, so
that you enjoy yourself and reach your destination before
you realize it.
This is why
we're taught to practice meditation by keeping mindfulness
immersed firmly in the body. Contemplate your meditation
themes body, feelings, mind, and mental qualities
without letting your mind wander astray in outside thoughts
and preoccupations. Contemplate the body so as to know how
its properties are getting along, where it feels pleasant,
painful, or neutral. Notice how the mind moves around in the
various things you know until you reach the mental quality
that is still, solid, and true.
This way it's
like having friends go with you wherever you go and whatever
you do. In other words, when the body walks, the mind walks
with it. When the body lies down, the mind lies down with
it. When the body sits, the mind sits with it. Wherever the
body stops, the mind stops, too. But most of us aren't like
this. The body takes two steps, but the mind takes four or
five so how can it not get tired? The body lies in
a mosquito net surrounded by a railing and seven thick
walls, but the mind can still go running outside. When this
is the case, where will it get any happiness? It'll have to
wander around exposed to the sun, wind, rain, and all sorts
of dangers because it has no protection. If there's no
concentration to act as a shelter for the heart, it'll
always have to meet with misery and pain.
For this
reason, you should train your heart to stay firm in
concentration and to develop full strength within yourself
so that you can be your own person. This way you'll be bound
to meet with all things pure and good.
July 20, 1959
Insight isn't
something that can be taught. It's something you have to
give rise to within yourself. It's not something you simply
memorize and talk about. If we were to teach it just so we
could memorize it, I can guarantee that it wouldn't take
five hours. But if you wanted to understand one word of it,
three years might not even be enough. Memorizing gives
rise simply to memories. Acting is what gives rise to the
truth. This is why it takes effort and persistence for
you to understand and master this skill on your own.
When insight
arises, you'll know what's what, where it's come from, and
where it's going as when we see a lantern burning
brightly: We know that, "That's the flame... That's the
smoke... That's the light." We know how these things arise
from mixing what with what, and where the flame goes when we
put out the lantern. All of this is the skill of insight.
Some people say
that tranquillity meditation and insight meditation are two
separate things but how can that be true? Tranquillity
meditation is "stopping," insight meditation is "thinking"
that leads to clear knowledge. When there's clear knowledge,
the mind stops still and stays put. They're all part of the
same thing.
Knowing has to
come from stopping. If you don't stop, how can you know? For
instance, if you're sitting in a car or a boat that is
traveling fast and you try to look at the people or things
passing by right next to you along the way, you can't see
clearly who's who or what's what. But if you stop still in
one place, you'll be able to see things clearly.
Or even closer
to home: When we speak, there has to be a pause between each
phrase. If you tried to talk without any pauses at all,
would anyone be able to understand what you said?
This is why we
first have to make the mind stop to be quiet and still. When
the mind stays still in a state of normalcy, concentration
arises and discernment follows. This is something you have
to work at and do for yourself. Don't simply believe what
others say. Get so that you know "Oh! Oh! Oh!" from
within, and not just "Oh? Oh? Oh?" from what people say.
Don't take the good things they say and stick them in your
heart. You have to make these things your own by getting
them to arise from within you. Spending one dollar of your
own money is better than spending 100 dollars you've
borrowed from someone else. If you use borrowed money, you
have to worry because you're in debt. If you use your own
money, there's nothing to worry about.
* * *
Stopping is
what gives rise to strength. If a man is walking or running,
he can't put up a good fight with anyone, because the
advantage lies with the person standing still, not with the
person walking or running. This is why we're taught to make
the mind stop still so that it can gain strength. Then it
will be able to start walking again with strength and
agility.
It's true that
we have two feet, but when we walk we have to step with one
foot at a time. If you try to step with both feet at once,
you won't get anywhere. Or if you try to walk with just one
foot, you can't do that either. When the right foot stops,
the left foot has to take a step. When the left foot stops,
the right foot has to take a step. You have to stop with one
foot and step with the other if you're going to walk with
any strength because the strength comes from the foot that
has stopped, not from the foot taking a step. One side has
to stop while the other side takes a step. Otherwise, you'll
have no support and are sure to fall down. If you don't
believe me, try stepping with both feet at once and see how
far you get.
In the same
way, tranquillity and insight have to go together. You first
have to make the mind stop in tranquillity and then take a
step in your investigation: This is insight meditation. The
understanding that arises is discernment. To let go of your
attachment to that understanding is release.
So stopping is
the factor that gives rise to strength, knowledge, and
discernment the fixed mind that knows both the world and
the Dhamma in a state of heightened virtue, heightened
consciousness, and heightened discernment leading on to the
transcendent.
June 25, 1959
The Buddha
taught, "The pursuit of heightened consciousness is the
heart of the Buddhas' teaching." Heightened consciousness is
a state of mind that lies above and beyond mental
defilement. There are two ways it can be reached:
(1) The mind
doesn't yet have any heightened inner quality, but we
heighten it through our efforts.
(2) The mind
has developed the proper inner quality and uses it to keep
itself safe, above and beyond defilement.
The first case
refers to the state of ordinary people's minds. When they
aren't sitting in meditation, their minds aren't in any
special state of concentration, so if defilement arises
within them, they have to be determined and perceptive to
be aware of the defilement and to make up their minds that
they won't let it push them around. This is called Right
Attitude. Even though the mind isn't in concentration, this
technique can give results.
What this means
is that we're alert to what's going on. For example, when
we're angry, when we meet with something undesirable, we
should be alert to the fact and make ourselves determined
that no matter what, we're going to keep the defilement of
anger under control by resisting it and putting our better
side into play. In other words, when we're angry, we act as
if we weren't. Instead of letting the anger overpower the
mind, we use our inner goodness to overpower the mind. This
is called heightened consciousness. When you meet with
something you don't like, don't let the fact that you don't
like it show. Instead, act as if you were happy and calm.
I.e., put your good side to use. Don't let your bad side
show under any circumstances.
If you're
circumspect and composed enough to hold the mind in check
before it can let its defilements come out in word or deed,
if you can force the defilements to stop and can let only
your best manners show, you count as having heightened
consciousness. You are also a good member of any social
group, for you can work toward your own progress and that of
the group as a whole.
In the texts,
this quality is called composure a state of mind that lies
above the defilements. This is one form of heightened
consciousness and is something we should all try to develop
within ourselves as we are able.
The second form
of heightened consciousness refers to a mind freed from the
Hindrances and trained to a state of Right Concentration.
The mind is firmly established in its inner quality. When
defilements arise, they can't overpower the mind because
they can't reach in to touch it, for the mind is
protected by its own full measure of inner quality.
I ask that we
all aim at making this form of heightened consciousness
arise within ourselves by being persistent and persevering
in cherishing our own inner goodness in the same way that
when we have good food, we make sure to chase away the flies
so that we can enjoy it in good health.
To do this, you
have to be observant and make two kinds of effort: the
effort to abandon your defilements and the effort to develop
your meditation theme, which is the means for wiping out the
mental Hindrances. There are five types of Hindrances:
sensual desire, ill will, torpor & lethargy, restlessness &
anxiety, and uncertainty. As for meditation, there are two
ways of practicing it in series and in isolation as I'll
explain to you now.
(1) To practice
in series is to practice by the book: contemplating the
unattractiveness of the body, for instance, by following the
lists of its parts without skipping over any of them or
mixing them up. Whichever theme you choose, you have to
understand how the topics are grouped and in what order, so
as to deal with them properly. This kind of meditation can
give great benefits, but at the same time can cause great
harm. For example, if you contemplate the unattractiveness
of the body, it can lead to a sense of dispassion,
detachment, and calm, but there are times it can also get
you into a state where you can't eat or sleep because
everything starts seeming filthy and disgusting. This is one
way it can be harmful. Or sometimes you may contemplate the
body until a mental image arises, but you get frightened and
unnerved. In cases like this, you have to try to be up on
what's happening so that your theme will help you instead of
harming you.
(2) To practice
in isolation is to focus on a single refined theme that
doesn't have a lot of different features. I.e., you focus on
being mindful of the in-and-out breath, without letting your
attention slip away. Focus on whatever kind of breathing
feels soothing, and the mind will settle down. Try to make
the breath more and more refined, all the while keeping the
mind gently with the breath, in the same way that you'd cup
a bit of fluff in the palm of your hand. Do this until you
feel that there's no "in" or "out" to the breath at all. The
mind doesn't wander around. It's quiet and still, able to
cut away thoughts of past and future. At this point it
becomes even more refined, with no restlessness at all. The
mind is stable and doesn't change along with its objects.
It's firmly set and unwavering to the point where it becomes
fixed and strong.
When you can
develop your meditation to this point, it will make the mind
let go of its attachments and gain conviction and
understanding into the truths of inconstancy, stress, and
not-self. Your doubts will fall away, and you will know the
way of the world and the way of Liberation, without having
to ask for confirmation from anyone else. When your
knowledge is clear and free from uncertainty, the mind is
firm in its own strength. This is when you become your own
refuge when your mind isn't affected by other people or
objects, and reaches the happiness and ease of heightened
consciousness.
There are four
kinds of truth in the body of every human being: stress, its
cause, its disbanding, and the path to its disbanding. These
truths are like gold: No matter whether you try to make gold
into a bracelet, a ring, an earring, or whatever, it stays
gold in line with its nature. Go ahead and try to change it,
but it'll stay as it is. The same holds true with the nature
of the body. No matter how wonderful you try to make it,
it'll have to return to its normal nature. It'll have to
have stress and pain, their cause, their disbanding, and the
path to their disbanding.
People who
don't admit the normal nature of the body are said to be
deluded; those who realize its normal nature are said to
know. Wise people realize the principles of nature, which is
why they don't get caught up in a lot of fuss and confusion.
In other words, the body is like an object that originally
weighs four kilograms. Even though we may find things to
plaster onto it to make it heavier, the plaster will
eventually have to fall off and leave us with the original
four kilograms. You simply can't escape its original nature.
The stress and
pain that occur in line with the principles of nature aren't
actually all that troublesome. For example, pain and
disease: If we try to fight nature and not let there be
disease, or if we want it to disappear right away, sometimes
we make the disease even worse. But if we treat the disease
without worrying about whether or not it'll go away, it will
follow its natural course and go away at its own pace
without too much trouble or suffering on our part. This is
because the mind isn't struggling to fight nature, and so
the body is strong enough to contend with the disease.
Sometimes, if we have this attitude, we can survive diseases
that otherwise would kill us. But if the mind gets all upset
and thrashes around, wanting the disease to go away, then
sometimes a small disease can get so bad it'll kill us
like a person with a scorpion sting he thinks is a cobra
bite, who gets so frightened and upset that the whole thing
gets out of hand. Sometimes we may come down with a disease
that ought to finish us off, but the power of the mind is so
great that it fights off the pain and the disease goes away.
This is one of
the principles of nature but we shouldn't be complacent
about it. If we get complacent, then when the disease comes
back it'll be worse than before, because the truth, when you
get right down to it, is that no matter what you do, these
things can't escape their true nature. When the body's
normal nature is to have pain and stress, then try as you
may to make the pain go away, it'll have to return to its
true nature. Whether or not you can cure it, the truth is
still the truth. In other words, even when you cure the
disease, it comes back.
Suppose, for
instance, that we feel ill, take some medicine, and feel
better. We think the disease has gone away. People of
discernment, though, realize that it hasn't gone anywhere.
It's simply been suppressed for a while and then it'll have
to come back out again. We may think that we've made the
disease go away, but the disease is smarter than we are.
When it comes back again, it wears a new costume, like
actors in a theater troupe: If the public gets tired of one
play, they put on another. Otherwise, no one will spend
money to watch them perform. In other words, the disease is
smart enough to come from a new direction. If it put on the
old play, it wouldn't get any reward. At first it came in
your stomach, so this time it comes in your leg. You treat
it until it goes away, but then it comes back in a new play
in your eye. You treat it in your eye until it goes away,
and then it comes back in your ear. So you treat your ear.
Wherever it comes, you keep treating it and your money keeps
getting spent. As for the disease, it's glad you're fooled.
There's only one of it, but it comes in all sorts of
disguises. Aging, illness, and death are very smart. They
can keep us tied on a short leash so that we can never get
away from them. People who don't train their minds to enter
the Dhamma are sure to miss this point, but those who train
themselves to know the truth of the Dhamma will understand
this principle of nature for what it is.
If we don't
realize the truth, we lose in two ways. On the one side we
lose in terms of the world: We waste our money because we
don't realize what's necessary and what isn't, so we get
worked up and upset all out of proportion to reality. On the
other side, we lose in terms of the Dhamma because our
virtue, concentration, and meditation all suffer. Illness
makes us lose in these ways because we lack discernment.
This is why the Buddha taught us to use our eyes. We live in
the world, so we have to look out for our well-being in the
world; we live in the Dhamma, so we have to look out for our
well-being in the Dhamma. The results will then develop of
their own accord. If we use discernment to evaluate things
until we know what's necessary and what's not, the time
won't be long before we prosper in terms both of the world
and of the Dhamma. We won't have to waste money and time,
and there won't be any obstacles to our practice.
In other words,
when you see that something is true, don't try to get in its
way. Let it follow its own course. Even though the mind
doesn't age, grow ill, or die, still the body has to age,
grow ill, and die. This is a part of its nature that you
can't fight. When it gets ill, you take care of it enough to
keep it going. You won't be put to difficulties in terms of
the world, and your Dhamma practice won't suffer.
The suffering
we feel because of these things comes from the cause of
stress: delusion, ignorance of the truth. When the mind is
deluded, it doesn't know the cause of stress or the path to
the disbanding of stress. When it knows, it doesn't get
caught up in the natural pain and stress of the body.
Mental suffering comes from the accumulation of defilement,
not from aging, illness, and death. Once the stillness
of the path arises within us, then aging, illness, and death
won't unsettle the mind. Sorrow, despair, distress, and
lamentation won't exist. The mind will be separate. We can
compare this to the water in the sea when it's full of
waves: If we take a dipperful of sea water and set it down
on the beach, there won't be any waves in the dipper at all.
The waves come from wavering. If we don't stir it up, there
won't be any waves. For this reason, we have to fix the mind
so that it's steady in its meditation, without letting
anything else seep in. It will then gain clarity: the
discernment that sees the truth.
* * *
The mental
state of the cause of stress leads us to pain; the mental
state of the path leads us to happiness. If you don't want
stress or pain, don't stay with the flow of their cause.
Mental suffering is something unnatural to the mind. It
comes from letting defilement seep in. Diseases arise in the
body, but we let their effects spread into the mind. We have
to learn which phenomena die and which don't. If our
defilements are thick and tenacious, there'll be a lot of
aging, illness, and death. If our defilements are thin,
there won't be much aging, illness, and death.
For this
reason, we should build inner quality awareness of the
truth within ourselves. However far the body is going to
develop, that's how far it's going to have to deteriorate,
so don't be complacent. The important point is that you
develop the mind. If the mind gets developed to a point of
true maturity, it won t regress. In other words, if your
concentration is strong and your discernment developed, the
defilements enwrapping your mind will fall away in the same
way as when the flowers of a fruit tree reach full bloom,
the petals fall away, leaving the fruit. When the fruit
develops till it's fully ripe, the skin and flesh fall away,
leaving just the seeds that contain all the makings for a
new tree. When the mind is fully developed, then aging,
illness, and death fall away. Mental stress and suffering
fall away, leaving the mind in Right Concentration.
When Right
Concentration is ripe, you'll know the location of what dies
and what doesn't. If you want to die, then stay with what
dies. If you don't want birth, don't stay with what takes
birth. If you don't want aging, don't stay with what ages.
If you don't want illness, don't stay with what grows ill.
If you don't leave these things, you have to live with
them. If you leave them, your mind won't age it won't
be able to age; it won't grow ill it won't be able to grow
ill; it won't die; it won't be able to die. If you can reach
this point, you're said to have respect for the truth for
the teachings of the Buddha.
Respect for the
truth isn't a matter of bowing down or paying homage. It
means having a sense of time and place: If something is
possible, you do it. If it's not, you don't and you don't
try to straighten it out, either. The defilements of
unawareness, craving, and attachment are things that connect
us with suffering, so don't let them entangle the mind.
Unawareness is
the mental state that is deluded about the past, present,
and future. True awareness knows what's past and lets it go;
knows what's future and lets it go; knows what's present and
doesn't fall for it. It can remove all attachments.
Unawareness knows, but it falls for these things, which is
why it forms the fuel for suffering. True awareness knows
what things are past, present, and future, but it doesn't
run out after them. It knows but it stays put quiet
and calm. It doesn't waver up or down. It doesn't seep out,
and nothing seeps in. The past, the present, and the future
it knows in terms of the principles of its nature, without
having to reason or think. People who have to reason and
think are the ones who don't know. With knowledge, there's
no thinking or reasoning, and yet the mind knows thoroughly.
This is true awareness. Aging, illness, and death all become
an affair of release. In other words, nothing is fashioned
in the mind, and when nothing is fashioned, there's no
aging, illness, or death.
As for
attachment, it catches us and ties us to a stake, like a
person being led to his execution with no chance to wiggle
free. We're tied with a wire stretching out to the past and
future. Craving inches along the wire toward us, rolling his
eyes and making horrible faces, so that we worry about the
past and future. Behind us he splits into three: craving for
sensuality, craving for possibilities, and craving for
impossibilities. In front of us, he splits into three the
same three sorts of craving and in the present he splits
into the same three. With nine of them and only one of us,
how can we expect to be a match for them? In the end, we're
no match at all.
If we practice
concentration and develop discernment, though, we'll be able
to cut the wire of Death. When the mental state that forms
the path arises, our thoughts of past and future will all
disband. This is the disbanding of stress. Attachment and
craving won't exist so where will stress and suffering
have a chance to arise? People who have defilements even
if they earn $3,000 a day can't keep themselves from
falling into hell. But people with no defilements, even if
they don't have anything at all, are happy nonetheless
because the mind has enough to eat, enough to drink, enough
of everything. It's not poor. When we can think correctly in
this way, it's called respect for the Dhamma and it can
make us happy.
* * *
Respect for the
Dhamma means taking seriously all the things coming in and
out the house of your mind. (1) The door of the body:
You have to be careful to make sure that none of your
actions stray into ways that are harmful. (2) The door of
speech the door of the mouth is very large. The
tongue may be only a tiny piece of flesh, but it's very
important, because what we say today can keep echoing for an
aeon after we die. When the body dies, the time isn't long
before there's nothing left of it, and so it's not as
important as our speech, for the stone engravings we make
with our tongue last a long, long time. For this reason, we
should show a great deal of respect for our mouths by saying
only things that are worthwhile. (3) The door of the
intellect: We have to be careful with our thoughts. If
something is harmful to us when we think about it, then we
shouldn't think about it. We should think only about things
that are beneficial and good.
These three
doors are always receiving guests into the mind, so we have
to pay attention to see who is coming with good intentions
and who is coming with bad. Don't let down your guard.
Whoever comes with good intentions will bring you happiness
and prosperity. As for troublemakers and thieves, they'll
rob you and kill you and cause you all sorts of trouble.
As for your
eyes, ears and nose, these are like three windows that you
have to be careful about as well. You have to know when to
open and when to close them. If you aren't discerning, you
may invite thieves into your house to rob and kill you,
plundering all the wealth your parents and teachers gave
you. This is called being an ingrate not knowing enough to
care for the legacies that others have passed down to you.
The legacies of your parents are your life, health, and
strength. The legacies of your teachers are all the things
they taught to make you a good person. If you leave your
thoughts, words, and deeds wide open so that evil can flow
into you, evil will keep pouring in, wearing down the health
and strength of your body and mind. This is called having no
appreciation for the kindness of your parents and teachers.
Sometimes we
don't leave just the doors open we leave the windows open
as well. Lizards, snakes, scorpions, birds, and bats will
come in through the windows and take up residence in our
house. After a while they'll lay claim to it as theirs and
we give in to them. So they leave their droppings all over
and make a mess of the place. If we don't exercise
self-restraint, our body and mind are going to be ruined,
and this will destroy the wealth our parents and teachers
went to such great trouble to give us.
So if anyone
tries to come into your house, you have to grill them
thoroughly to see what they're up to and what they're coming
for for good or for bad. Look them straight in the eye. In
other words, you have to be mindful and reflecting in all
your actions. Anything that isn't good you have to drive out
of your activities. Even if it would help you financially or
make you popular and well-known, don't have anything to do
with it. The same holds true with your speech. If something
you're about to say will serve a good purpose, then open
your mouth and say it. Say what should be said, and don't
say what shouldn't. If something serves no real purpose,
then no matter how fantastic it may be, don't say it. You
have to know how to respond to all the activities that
present themselves for you to do. Let in the good ones and
drive out the bad.
As for the
mind, you have to show restraint with that, too. If a
thought will lead to good and happy results, you should let
yourself think it. But as for thoughts that will cause harm,
don't pull them in. If you go gobbling down everything you
like, you're going to die. I.e., (1) your inner quality will
deteriorate. (2) The wealth your parents and teachers gave
you will disappear.
As for your
senses sight, hearing, smell, taste, feeling you should
show an interest in everything that will benefit you. Drive
out what's bad and bring in what's good. When you can do
this, it's called showing respect for your parents, your
teachers, and yourself as well. Your house will be clean,
and you can lounge around in comfort without having to worry
about sitting on bird- or bat-droppings.
But if you
don't exercise self-restraint, your actions will be defiled,
your words will be defiled, so how can your mind live in
comfort? Like a filthy house: No guests will want to go into
it, and even the owner isn't comfortable there. If you keep
your home clean and well-swept, though, it'll be nice to
live in, and good people will be happy to come and visit.
When good people come and visit, they won't cause you any
harm. In other words, the things that come in through the
senses are like guests and they won't cause any harm to the
mind. The mind will be good and obedient and will stay put
where you tell it to. But even if your couches and chairs
are made of marble: If they're dusty and dirty, no guests
will want to sit there, and you yourself won't want to,
either.
* * *
So if you keep
your virtue bright and clear with regard to your senses of
sight, hearing, smell, taste, feeling, and ideation, your
mind will find it easy to attain concentration. Then even
when defilements come to visit you from time to time, they
won't be able to do you any harm because you have more
than enough wealth to share with them. If thieves come, you
can throw them a hunk of diamond ore and they'll disappear.
If aging, illness, and death come begging, you can throw
them another hunk, and they'll stop pestering use.
If your old
kamma debts come at you when you're poor, they won't get
enough to satisfy them, so they'll end up taking your life.
But if they come at you when you're rich, you simply share
your merit all the inner wealth you've accumulated and
they'll leave you alone. If your goodness isn't yet full,
then evil will have an opening to flow in; but if your
hands, feet, eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind are
filled with goodness, evil can't get into you, so you can
come out unscathed.
Ultimately,
you'll get so rich in inner quality that you can go beyond
both good and evil. That's when you can be truly happy and
free from danger. So I ask that you all remember this and
treat your thoughts, words, and deeds in a way that shows
respect for the Dhamma as I've explained it. You'll then
meet with the happiness you hope for.
November 4,
1958
My own motto
is, "Make yourself as good as possible, and everything else
will have to follow along in being good." If you don't
neglect yourself for the sake of external things, you'll
have to be good. So you shouldn't neglect yourself. Develop
your inner worth to your own satisfaction.
The world says,
"Don't worry about whether you're good or bad, as long as
you have money." This is just the opposite of the Dhamma,
which says, "Don't worry about whether you're rich or poor,
as long as you're a good person."
* * *
Your good
qualities, if you don't know how to use them, can hurt you
like money, which is something good but, if you don't know
how to spend it wisely, can lead to your ruin; or like a
good sharp knife that, if you don't know how to use it
properly, can do you harm. Say, for instance, that you use
the knife to kill someone. When you're caught, you'll have
to be thrown in jail or executed, which means that you used
the knife to kill yourself.
* * *
Each of us has
four kinds of valuables: the goodness of our deeds, the
goodness of our words, the goodness of our manners, and the
goodness of our thoughts. For this reason, we have to care
for these valuables as best we can.
Most of us have
good things to our name but we hardly ever bring them out to
put them to use. Instead, we like to bring out only our
worst things to use. In other words, we keep our goodness to
ourselves and show only our worst side like the plates,
cups, and saucers in our homes: The good ones we keep in the
cupboard, and only the chipped, cracked, and broken ones get
put on the table, because we're afraid the good ones will
break. As for our best clothes, we don't dare use them
because we're afraid they'll get old, stained, or torn. So
we end up keeping them packed away until they get so moldy
or moth-eaten that they can't be worn and have to become
rags. As a result, we don't get any good out of our
valuables in line with their worth. In the same way, if
we have any goodness within ourselves but don't put it to
use, it serves no purpose at all, either for ourselves or
for others like a knife you keep packed away until it
gets rusty: If you finally bring it out to slice some food,
the rust will poison you. If you happen to cut your hand or
foot with it, you may come down with tetanus and die.
* * *
An intelligent
person knows how to use both good and evil without causing
harm. Arahants even know how to use their defilements so as
to be of benefit. When sages use common language, it can
serve a good purpose. But when fools use fine language, it
can be bad. If they use bad language; it's even worse. An
example of a person who used common language to serve a good
purpose is Chao Khun Upali (Siricando Jan). One time he was
invited to give a sermon in the palace during the weekly
funeral observances for a young prince whose death had
caused a great deal of sorrow to the royal relatives. On the
previous weeks, some very high-ranking monks from Wat
Debsirin had been invited to give sermons and they had all
gone on about what a good man the prince had been, and how
sad it was that he had come to such an untimely end that
prevented him from living on to do more good for the world.
This had caused the relatives to cry all the more.
When it came
Chao Khun Upali's turn to give a sermon, though, he didn't
carry on in the same vein at all. Instead, he started out
with the theme of mindfulness of the body, describing the
ugliness and foulness of the body, which is full of
repulsive and disgusting things: snot, spit, dandruff,
sweat, etc., etc. "When the body dies, there's not one good
thing about it," he said, "but people sit around weeping and
wailing with tears streaming in tracks down their cheeks and
mucus running out their noses and dribbling down to their
chins. With their faces all in a mess like this, they don't
look the least bit attractive."
This made the
relatives who had been crying so embarrassed that they
stopped crying immediately, after which they expressed a
great deal of admiration for Chao Khun Upali and his sermon.
This is why it's said that a person who uses a sharp tongue
with skill is a great sage. If people are wise, then no
matter what they say, it serves a good purpose because
they have a sense of time, place, and the people they're
talking to. If something will serve a purpose, even if it
sounds unpleasant, it should be said. If it won't serve a
purpose, even if it sounds pleasant, don't say it.
* * *
The affairs of
the religion are an affair of the heart: Don't go looking
for them in the dirt or the grass, in temples or in
monastery buildings. Although people may do good with their
words and deeds, it's still an affair of the world. The
affairs of the religion are quiet and still, without any
fuss or bother. They're aimed at a mind that's pure,
undefiled, and bright. With goodness, there's no need to do
anything much at all. Simply sit still, and there's purity.
Take the
example of the little novice with quiet and composed manners
who, as he was going out for alms one morning, happened to
enter the compound of a stingy moneylender and his wife.
Whether or not they would put any food in his bowl, he
didn't show the least concern, and he didn't open his mouth
to say a word. When he left his bowl still empty he went
calmly and unhurriedly along his way. The moneylender's
wife, seeing him, became curious and trailed him from a
distance, until he reached a point where he suddenly had to
go to the bathroom. Carefully he put down his bowl and,
using his foot, cleared away the leaves to make a little
depression in the dirt so that the urine wouldn't flow off
anywhere. Then, after looking right, left and all around him
to make sure that there wouldn't be anyone walking past, he
squatted down to urinate unobtrusively in the proper way.
When he had finished, he used his foot to cover the spot
with dirt and leaves as it had been before, picked up his
bowl and went calmly on his way.
As for the
moneylender's wife, who had been watching from a distance,
when she saw the manner in which the little novice was
acting, the thought occurred to her that he had probably
buried something of value. So she stealthily crept to the
spot and, using her hand, dug the earth out of the hole
buried by the novice and sniffed it to see what it was and
that was when she realized that it was urine. The little
novice had taken care of his urine as if it were gold. "If
it were something more valuable than this," she thought,
"there's no doubt how well he'd care for it. With manners
like this, we should adopt him as our foster son. He'd be
sure to look after our fortune to make sure that it wouldn't
get wasted away."
She went home
to tell her husband who, impressed with her story, had a
servant go and invite the novice into their home so that
they could inform him of their intentions. The novice,
however, declined their offer to make him their heir, and
taught them the Dhamma, making them see the rewards of
practicing generosity, virtue, and meditation. The
moneylender and his wife were deeply moved, overcame their
stinginess, and asked to take refuge in the Buddha, Dhamma,
and Sangha from that day onward. Eventually, they progressed
in virtue, meditation, and right practice to the point where
they both gained a glimpse of Liberation. Afterwards, they
made a large donation to build a memorial over the spot
where the novice had urinated, as a reminder of the goodness
that had grown within them from the puddle of urine the
little novice had bestowed on them that day.
The affairs of
the religion come down to "sacitta-pariyodapanam"
making the heart entirely clean, clear and pure. "Etam
buddhana-sasanam" this is the heart of the Buddhas'
teachings.
July 13, 1958;
May 11, 1957 October 12, 1957
When the heart
is a slave to its moods and defilements greed, aversion,
and delusion it's like being a slave to poor people,
troublemakers, and crooks, all of whom are people we
shouldn't be enslaved to. The "poor people" here are greed:
hunger, desire, never having enough. This feeling of "not
enough" is what it means to be poor.
As for
aversion, this doesn't necessarily mean out-and-out anger.
It also means being grumpy or in a bad mood. If anyone
annoys us or does something displeasing, we get irritated
and resentful. This is called being a slave to
troublemakers.
Delusion means
seeing good as evil or evil as good, right as wrong or wrong
as right, thinking you're good when you're evil, or evil
when you're good. This is called being a slave to crooks.
But if the mind
becomes a slave to goodness, this is called being a slave to
the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, in which case we're well-off
because the Buddha is a kind person. He won't make us work
all hours of the day and instead will allow us time to rest
and find peace of mind.
But still, as
long as we're slaves, we can't say that it's really good,
because slaves have no freedom. They still have a price on
their heads. Only when we gain release from slavery can we
be fully free and happy. So for this reason, be diligent in
your work: Meditate a lot every day. You'll profit from it,
get to buy yourself out of slavery to the Buddha, Dhamma,
and Sangha, and gain Liberation. Don't let there be anyone
at all over you giving you orders. That's when it's really
ideal.
* * *
Actually, the
Buddha never meant for us to take as our mainstay anything
or anyone else aside from ourselves. Even when we take
refuge in the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, he never praised
it as being really ideal. He wanted us to take ourselves
as our refuge. "The self is its own mainstay:" We don't
have to take our authority from anyone else. We can depend
on ourselves and govern ourselves. We're free and don't have
to fall back on anyone else. When we can reach this state,
that's when we'll be released from slavery and truly
happy.
When we're
slaves to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, we're told to be
generous, to observe the precepts, and to practice
meditation all of which are things that will give rise to
inner worth within us. In being generous, we have to suffer
and work because of the effort involved in finding wealth
and material goods that we then give away as donations. In
observing the precepts, we have to forgo the words and deeds
we would ordinarily feel like saying or doing. Both of these
activities are ways in which we benefit others more than
ourselves. But when we practice meditation, we sacrifice
inner objects unskillful thoughts and mental states and
make our minds solid, sovereign, and pure.
This is called
paying homage to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha through the
practice which the Buddha praised as better than paying
homage with material objects. Even though the Buddha would
have benefited personally from the homage shown with
material objects, he never praised it as being better than
homage shown through the practice, which gives all its
benefits to the person who pays the homage. This was the
sort of homage that pleased the Buddha, because the practice
of training the heart to reach purity is the way by which a
person can gain release from all suffering and stress. The
Buddha had the kindness and compassion to want to help
living beings gain freedom from all forms of suffering,
which is why he taught us to meditate, so that we can free
our hearts from their slavery to the defilements of the
world.
When we become
slaves to the religion to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha
we're still not released from suffering as long as our minds
still have worries and concerns. Being a slave to our
concerns is like being in debt to them. When we're in debt,
we have no real freedom in our hearts. Only when we can find
the money to pay off our debts can we be happy, free, and at
ease. The more we pay off our debts, the more light-hearted
we'll feel. In the same way, if we can let go of our various
worries and cares, peace will arise in our hearts. We'll be
released from our slavery to craving and defilement, and
will find happiness because peace is what brings release
from suffering. This is why the Buddha taught us to center
our hearts in concentration so as to give rise to stillness,
peace, and the inner wealth with which we'll be able to pay
off all of our debts. That's when we'll attain happiness and
ease. All our burdens and sufferings will fall away from our
hearts, and we'll enter full freedom.
* * *
The mind has
two kinds of thoughts, skillful and unskillful. Unskillful
thoughts are when the mind thinks in ways that are bad
with greed, anger, or delusion about things either past or
future. When this happens, the mind is said to be a slave to
defilement. As for skillful thoughts, they deal in good and
worthwhile ways with things future or past. We have to try
to let go of both these kinds of thoughts so that they don't
exist in the mind if we want to gain release from our
slavery.
* * *
If we want to
buy ourselves completely out of slavery, we have to farm our
four acres so that they bear abundant fruit. In other words,
we have to develop the body's four properties earth,
water, fire, and wind to a point of fullness by practicing
meditation and using pure breath sensations to soothe and
nourish every part of the body. When the mind is pure and
the body soothed, it's like our farm's having plenty of rain
and ground water to nourish our crops. In other words, our
concentration is solid and enters the first stage of
absorption, with its five factors: directed thought,
evaluation, rapture, pleasure, and
singleness-of-preoccupation. Directed thought is like
harrowing our soil. Evaluation is like plowing and
scattering the seed. Rapture is when our crops begin to bud,
pleasure is when their flowers bloom, and
singleness-of-preoccupation is when the fruits develop until
they're ripened and sweet and at the same time, their
seeds contain all their ancestry. What this means is that in
each seed is another plant complete with branches, flowers,
and leaves. If anyone plants the seed, it'll break out into
another plant just like the one it came from.
In the same
way, when we center the mind to the point of absorption, we
can gain insight into our past maybe even back through
many lifetimes good and bad, happy and sad. This insight
will cause us to feel dismay and dispassion, and to lose
taste for all states of being and birth. The mind will let
go of its attachments to self, to mental and physical
phenomena, and to all thoughts and concepts past and
future, good and bad. It'll enter a state of neutral
equanimity. If we then work at developing it further, we'll
be able to cut away more and more of our states of being and
birth. When the mind gains change-of-lineage knowledge,
which passes from the mundane over into the transcendent, it
will see what dies and what doesn't. It will blossom as
buddho the awareness that knows no cessation bright
in its seclusion from thoughts and burdens, from mental
fermentations and preoccupations. When we practice in this
way, we'll come to the reality of birthlessness and
deathlessness the highest happiness and on into
Liberation.
This is how we
repay all our debts without the least bit remaining. As the
texts say, "In release, there is the knowledge, 'Released.
Birth is no more, the holy life is fulfilled, the task
done.'"
For this
reason, we should be intent on cleansing and polishing our
hearts so that they can gain release from their worries and
preoccupations, which are the source of pain and discontent.
Peace, coolness, and a bright happiness will arise within
us, in the same way as when we unshackle ourselves from our
encumbering burdens and debts. We'll be free beyond the
reach of all suffering and stress.
Sabbe satta
sada hontu
avera sukha-jivino
katam
puρρa-phalam mayham
sabbe bhagi bhavantu te
May all beings
always live happily,
free from animosity.
May all share
in the blessings
springing from the good I have done.
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