A
talk given to a group of monks preparing to leave the
monastery and go off wandering after their fifth year
under the guidance of
Ajahn Chah
At the time of the
Buddha, there lived a monk who yearned to find the true
way to enlightenment. He wanted to know for certain what
was the correct way and what was the incorrect way to
train his mind in meditation. Having decided that living
in a monastery with a large group of monks was confusing
and distracting, he went off wandering looking for quiet
places to meditate on his own. Living alone, he
practised continuously, sometimes experiencing periods
of calm when his mind gathered itself in concentration
(samadhi), at other times not finding much calm at all.
There was still no real certainty in his meditation.
Sometimes he was very diligent and put forth great
effort, sometimes he was lazy. In the end, he became
caught up in doubt and scepticism due to his lack of
success in trying to find the right way to practise.
During that time in
India there were many different meditation teachers, and
the monk happened to hear about one famous teacher,
"Ajahn A", who was very popular and had a reputation for
being skilled in meditation instruction. The monk sat
down and thought it through, and decided that just in
case this famous teacher really knew the correct way to
enlightenment, he would set off to go and find him and
train under his guidance. Having received teachings, the
monk returned to meditate on his own again and found
that while some of the new teachings were in line with
his own views, some were different. He found that he was
still constantly getting caught into doubt and
uncertainty. After a while he heard of another famous
monk, "Ajahn B", who also was again reputed to be fully
enlightened and skilled in teaching meditation; this
news simply fuelled further doubts and questions in his
mind. Eventually his speculation drove him to go off in
search of the new teacher. Having received fresh
teachings, the monk left and went away to practise in
solitude once more. He compared all the teachings he had
absorbed from this latest teacher with those from the
first teacher, and found that they weren't the same. He
compared the different styles and characters of each
teacher, and found that they were also quite different.
He compared everything he had learnt with his own views
about meditation and found that nothing seemed to fit
together at all! The more he compared, the more he
doubted.
Not long after that, the
monk heard excited rumours that "Ajahn C" was a really
wise teacher. People were talking about the new teacher
so much that he couldn't stand it any more and felt
compelled to seek him out and try training with him. The
monk was willing to listen and to try out whatever the
new teacher suggested. Some things he taught were the
same as other teachers, some things not; the monk kept
thinking and comparing, trying to work out why one
teacher did things a certain way and another teacher did
it differently. In his mind, he was churning over all
the information he had accumulated on the diverse views
and styles of each teacher and when he put it together
with his own views, which were completely different,
ended up with no samadhi at all. The more he tried to
work out where each teacher was at, the more he became
restless and agitated, burning up all his energy until
he became both mentally and physically drained, utterly
defeated by his endless doubting and speculation.
Eventually the monk
heard the fast spreading news that a fully enlightened
teacher named Gotama had arisen in the world.
Immediately his mind was completely overwhelmed and
started racing twice as fast as ever, speculating about
the teacher. Just as before, he could not resist the
urge to go and see the new teacher for himself, so he
went to pay respects to the Buddha and listen to him
expound the Dhamma. The Buddha explained to him that
ultimately, it's impossible to gain true understanding
and transcend doubt simply through seeking out and
receiving teaching from other people. The more you hear,
the more you doubt; the more you hear, the more mixed up
you become. The Buddha emphasised that other people's
wisdom can't cut through your doubts for you. Other
people cannot let go of doubt for you. All that a
teacher can do is explain the way doubts arise in the
mind and how to reflect on them, but you have to take
his or her words and put them into practice until you
gain insight and know for yourself. He taught that the
place of practice lies within the body. Form, feeling,
memories, thoughts and sense consciousness are your
teachers; they already provide you with the basis for
insight. What you still lack is a basis in mental
cultivation (bhavana) and wise reflection.
The Buddha taught that
the only way to truly end doubt is through contemplation
of your own body and mind - just that much. Abandon the
past; abandon the future - practise knowing, and letting
go. Sustain the knowing. Once you have established the
knowing, let go - but don't try to let go without the
knowing. It is the presence of this knowing that allows
you to let go. Let go of everything you did in the past:
both the good and the bad. Whatever you did before, let
go of it, because there is no benefit in clinging to the
past. The good you did was good at that time, the bad
you did was bad at that time. What was right was right.
So now you can cast it all aside, let go of it. Events
in the future are still waiting to happen. All the
arising and cessation that will occur in the future
hasn't actually taken place yet, so don't attach too
firmly to ideas about what may or may not happen in the
future. Be aware of yourself and let go. Let go of the
past. Whatever took place in the past has ceased. Why
spend a lot of time proliferating about it? If you think
about something that happened in the past then let that
thought go. It was a phenomenon (dhamma) that arose in
the past. Having arisen, it then ceased in the past.
There's no reason to mentally proliferate about the
present either. Once you have established awareness of
what you are thinking, let it go. Practise knowing and
letting go.
It's not that you
shouldn't experience any thoughts or hold views at all:
you experience thoughts and views and then let go of
them - because they are already completed. The future is
still ahead of you: whatever is going to arise in the
future, will end in the future also. Be aware of your
thoughts about the future and then let go. Your thoughts
and views about the past are uncertain, in just the same
way. The future is totally uncertain. Be aware and then
let go, because it's uncertain. Be aware of the present
moment, investigate what you are doing right here and
now. There is no need to look at anything outside of
your self.
The Buddha didn't praise
those who still invest all their faith and belief in
what other people say, neither did he praise those who
still get caught up in good and bad moods as a result of
the things other people say and do. What other people
say and do has to be their own concern; you can be aware
of it, but then let go. Even if they do the right thing,
see that it's right for them, but if you don't bring
your own mind in line with right view, you can never
really experience that which is good and right for
yourself, it remains something external. All those
teachers are doing their own practise - whether
correctly or incorrectly - somewhere else, separate from
you. Any good practise they do doesn't actually change
you; if it's correct practise, it's correct for them,
not you. What this means is that the Buddha taught that
those who fail to cultivate their minds and gain insight
into the truth for themselves are not worthy of praise.
I emphasise the teaching
that the Dhamma is opanayiko - to be brought inside
oneself - so that the mind knows, understands and
experiences the results of the training within itself.
If people say you are meditating correctly, don't be too
quick to believe them, and similarly, if they say you're
doing it wrong, don't just accept what they say until
you've really practised and found out for yourself. Even
if they instruct you in the correct way that leads to
enlightenment, this is still just other people's words;
you have to take their teachings and apply them until
you experience results for yourself right here in the
present. That means you must become your own witness,
able to confirm the results from within your own mind.
It's like the example of the sour fruit. Imagine I told
you that a certain fruit tasted sour and invited you to
try some of it. You would have to take a bite from it to
taste the sourness. Some people would willingly take my
word for it if I told them the fruit was sour, but if
they simply believed that it was sour without ever
tasting it, that belief would be useless (mogha), it
wouldn't have any real value or meaning. If you
described the fruit as sour, it would be merely going by
my perception of it. Only that. The Buddha didn't praise
such belief. But then you shouldn't just dismiss it
either: investigate it. You must try tasting the fruit
for yourself, and by actually experiencing the sour
taste, you become your own internal witness. Somebody
says it's sour, so you take it away and, by eating it,
find out that it really is sour. It's like you're making
double sure - relying on your own experience as well as
what other people say. This way you can really have
confidence in the authenticity of its sour taste; you
have a witness who attests to the truth.
Venerable Ajahn Mun
referred to this internal witness that exists within the
mind as sitibhuto. The authenticity of any knowledge
acquired merely from what other people say remains
unsubstantiated, it is only a truth proven to someone
else - you only have someone else's word to go on that
the fruit is sour. You could say that it's a half-truth,
or fifty percent. But if you actually taste the fruit
and find it sour, that is the one hundred percent, whole
truth: you have evidence from what other people say and
also from your own direct experience. This is a fully
one hundred percent substantiated truth. This is
sitibhuto: the internal witness has risen within you.
The way to train is thus
opanayiko. You direct your attention inwards, until your
insight and understanding become paccatam (knowing and
experiencing the truth for yourself). Understanding
gained from listening to and watching other people is
superficial in comparison with the deep understanding
that is paccatam; it remains on the outside of paccatam.
Such knowledge doesn't arise from self-examination; it's
not your own insight - it's other people's insight. That
doesn't mean you should be heedless and dismissive of
any teachings you receive from other sources, they
should also become the subject for study and
investigation. When you first come across and begin to
understand some aspect of the teaching from the books,
it's fine to believe it on one level, but at the same
time to recognize that you haven't yet trained the mind
and developed that knowledge through your own
experience. For that reason you still haven't
experienced the full benefit of the teaching. It's as if
the true value of your understanding is still only
half-complete. So then you must cultivate the mind and
let your insight mature, until you completely penetrate
the truth. In that way your knowledge becomes fully
complete. It is then you go beyond doubt. If you have
profound insight into the truth from within your own
mind, all uncertainty about the way to enlightenment
disappears completely.
When we speak of
practising with the paccuppana dhamma it means that
whatever phenomenon is immediately arising into the
mind, you must investigate and deal with it at once.
Your awareness must be right there. Because paccuppana
dhamma refers to the experience of the present moment -
it encompasses both cause and effect. The present moment
is firmly rooted within the process of cause and effect;
the way you are in the present reflects the causes that
lay in the past - your present experience is the result.
Every single experience you've had right up until the
present has arisen out of past causes. For instance, you
could say that walking out from your meditation hut was
a cause, and that you sitting down here is the result.
This is the truth of the way things are, there is a
constant succession of causes and effects. So what you
did in the past was the cause, the present experience is
the result. Similarly, present actions are the cause for
what you will experience in the future. Sitting here
right now, you are already initiating causes! Past
causes are coming to fruition in the present, and these
results are actually forming causes that will produce
results in the future.
What the Buddha saw was
that you must abandon both the past and the future. When
we say abandon it doesn't mean you literally get rid of
them. Abandoning means the focus of your mindfulness and
insight is right here at this one point - the present
moment. The past and the future link together right
here. The present is both the result of the past and the
cause of what lies ahead in the future. So you must
completely abandon both cause and result, and simply
abide with the present moment. We say abandon them, but
these are just words used to describe the way of
training the mind. Even though you let go of your
attachment and abandon the past and future, the natural
process of cause and effect remains in place. In fact,
you could call this the halfway point; it's already part
of the process of cause and result. The Buddha taught to
watch the present moment where you will see a continuous
process of arising and passing away, followed by more
arising and passing away.
Whatever arises in the
present moment is impermanent. I say this often, but
most people don't pay much attention. They're reluctant
to make use of this simple little teaching. All that is
subject to arising is impermanent. It's uncertain. This
really is the easiest, least complicated way to reflect
on the truth. If you don't meditate on this teaching,
when things actually do start to show themselves as
uncertain and changeable you don't know how to respond
wisely and tend to get agitated and stirred up.
Investigation of this very impermanence brings you
insight and understanding of that which is permanent. By
contemplating that which is uncertain, you see that
which is certain. This is the way you have to explain it
to make people understand the truth - but they tend not
to understand and spend the whole time lost, rushing
here and there. Really, if you want to experience true
peace, you must bring the mind to that point where it is
fully mindful in the present moment. Whatever happiness
or suffering arises there, teach yourself that it's
transient. The part of the mind that recollects that
happiness and suffering are impermanent is the wisdom of
the Buddha within each of you. The one who recognizes
the uncertainty of phenomena is the Dhamma within you.
That which is the Dhamma
is the Buddha, but most people don't realise this. They
see the Dhamma as something external, out there
somewhere, and the Buddha as something else over here.
If the mind's eye sees all conditioned things as
uncertain, then all of your problems that arise out of
attaching and giving undue importance to things will
disappear. Whatever way you look at it, this intrinsic
truth is the only thing that is really certain. When you
see this, rather than clinging and attaching, the mind
lets go. The cause of the problem, the attachment,
disappears, resulting in the mind penetrating the truth
and merging with the Dhamma. There is nothing higher or
more profound to seek for other than the realisation of
this truth. In that way the Dhamma is equal to the
Buddha, the Buddha is equal to the Dhamma.
This teaching that all
conditioned things are uncertain and subject to change
is the Dhamma. The Dhamma is the essence of the Buddha;
it isn't anything else. The purpose of cultivating
awareness through continuous recitation of "Buddho",
"Buddho" - that which knows - is to see this truth. When
the mind becomes one-pointed through the recitation of
"Buddho", this supports the development of insight into
the three characteristics of impermanence (aniccam),
suffering (dukkham) and non-self (anatta); the clarity
of awareness brings you to view things as uncertain and
changeable. If you see this clearly and directly the
mind lets go. So when you experience any kind of
happiness, you know it's uncertain; when you experience
any kind of suffering, you know it's uncertain just the
same. If you go to live somewhere else, hoping it will
be better than where you are already, remember that it's
not a sure thing whether you will really find what you
are looking for. If you think it's best to stay here,
again, it's not sure. That's just the point! With
insight, you see that everything is uncertain, so
wherever you go to practise you don't have to suffer.
When you want to stay here, you stay. When you want to
go elsewhere, you go and you don't make any problems for
yourself. All that doubting and vacillation about what
is the right thing to do ends. It is the way of training
in fixing mindfulness solely on the present moment that
brings the doubts to an end.
So don't worry about the
past or the future. The past has already ceased.
Whatever occurred in the past has already taken place
and is over and done with; it's finished. Whatever is
going to arise in the future is also going to end in the
future - let go of that too. Why get worried about it?
Observe the phenomena (dhammas) arising in the present
moment and notice how they are changing and unreliable.
As "Buddho" - the knowing - matures and penetrates
deeper, you gain a more profound awareness of the
essential truth that all conditioned phenomena are of an
impermanent nature. This is where insight deepens and
allows the stability and tranquillity of samadhi to
strengthen and become more refined.
Samadhi means the mind
that is firm and stable, or the mind that is calm. There
are two kinds. One kind of calm comes from practising in
a quiet place, where there are no sights, sounds or
other sensual impingement to disturb you. The mind with
such calm is still not free from the defilements
(kilesa). The defilements still cover over the mind, but
during the time when it is calm in samadhi they remain
in abatement. It's like pond water that is temporarily
clear after all the dirt and dust particles have settled
on the bottom; as long as the sediment hasn't been
stirred up the water remains clear, but as soon as
something does disturb it, the dirt rises up and the
water becomes cloudy again. You are just the same. When
you hear a sound, see a form or the mind is affected by
a mental state, any reaction of disliking clouds over
the mind. If no aversion is stimulated you feel
comfortable; but that feeling of comfort comes from the
presence of attachment and defilement rather than
wisdom.
For example, suppose you
wanted this tape recorder. As long as this desire was
unfulfilled you would feel dissatisfaction. However,
once you had gone out looking and found one for
yourself, you would feel content and satisfied, wouldn't
you? However, if you attached to the feeling of
contentment that arose because you managed to get your
own tape recorder, you would actually be creating the
conditions for future suffering. You would be creating
the conditions for future suffering, without being aware
of it. This is because your sense of satisfaction would
be dependent on you gaining a tape recorder, so as long
as you still didn't possess one, you would experience
suffering. Once you acquired a tape recorder you would
feel content and satisfied. But then if, perhaps, a
thief were to steal it, that sense of satisfaction would
disappear with it and you would fall back into a state
of suffering again. This is the way it is. Without a
tape recorder you suffer; with one you're happy, but
when for some reason you lose it, you become miserable
again. It goes on like this the whole time. This is what
is meant by samadhi that is dependent on peaceful
conditions. It's uncertain, like the happiness you
experience when you get what you want. When you finally
get the tape recorder you have been looking for, you
feel great. But what's the true cause of that pleasant
feeling? It arises because your desire has been
satisfied. That's all. That's as deep as that kind of
happiness can reach. It's happiness conditioned by the
defilements that control your mind. You aren't even
aware of this. At any time somebody could come along and
steal that tape recorder causing you to fall right back
into suffering again.
So that kind of samadhi
only provides a temporary experience of calm. You have
to contemplate the nature of the calm that arises out of
serenity (samatha) meditation to see the whole truth of
the matter. That tape recorder you obtain, or anything
else you possess is bound to deteriorate, break up and
disappear in the end. You have something to lose because
you gained a tape recorder. If you don't own a tape
recorder you don't have one to lose. Birth and death are
the same. Because there has been a birth, there has to
be the experience of death. If nothing gets born, there
is nothing to die. All those people who die had to be
born at some time; those who don't get born don't have
to die. This is the way things are. Being able to
reflect in this way, means that as soon as you acquire
that tape recorder, you are mindful of its impermanence
- that one day it will break down or get stolen, and
that in the end it must inevitably fall apart and
completely disintegrate. You see the truth with wisdom,
and understand that the tape recorder's very nature is
impermanent. Whether the tape recorder actually breaks
or gets stolen, these are all just manifestations of
impermanence. If you can view things in the correct way,
you will be able to use the tape recorder without
suffering.
You can compare this
with setting up some kind of business in the lay life.
If at first you needed to get a loan from the bank to
set up the business operations, immediately you would
begin to experience stress. You would suffer because you
wanted somebody else's money. Looking for money is both
difficult and tiring, and as long as you were
unsuccessful in trying to raise some, it would causes
you suffering. Of course, the day you successfully
managed to get a loan from the bank you would feel over
the moon, but that elation wouldn't last more than a few
hours, because in no time at all the interest payments
on the loan would start to eat up all your profits. You
wouldn't have to do so much as raise one finger and
already your money would be draining away to the bank in
interest payments. Can you believe it! You would be
sitting there suffering again. Can you see this? Why is
it like this? When you didn't have any money you would
suffer; when you finally receive some you think your
problems are over, but before long the interest payments
would start eating away at your funds, just leading you
to more suffering. This is the way it is.
The Buddha taught that
the way to practise with this is to observe the present
moment, and develop insight into the transient nature of
the body and mind; to see the truth of the Dhamma - that
conditioned things simply arise and pass away, and
nothing more. It's the nature of the body and mind to be
that way, so don't attach or cling firmly on to them. If
you have insight into this, it gives rise to peace as
the result. This is peace that comes from letting go of
defilements; it arises in conjunction with the arising
of wisdom.
What causes wisdom to
arise? It comes from contemplating the three
characteristics of impermanence, suffering and non-self,
which brings you insight into the truth of the way
things are. You have to see the truth clearly and
unmistakably in your own mind. That is only way to
really gain wisdom. There has to be continuous clear
insight. You see for yourself that all mental objects
and moods (arammana) that arise into consciousness pass
away and after that cessation there is more arising.
After more arising there is further cessation. If you
still have attachment and clinging suffering must arise
from moment to moment, but if you are letting go, you
won't create any suffering. Once the mind is clearly
seeing the impermanence of phenomena, this is what is
meant by sitibhuto - the internal witness. The mind is
so firmly absorbed in its contemplation that the insight
is self-sustaining. So in the end, you can only accept
as partial truths all the teachings and wisdom that you
receive from others.
On one occasion the
Buddha gave a discourse to a group of monks, and
afterwards asked Venerable Sariputta, who had been
listening:
"Sariputta, do you
believe what I have been teaching you?"
"I still don't believe
it, Bhante," Sariputta replied. The Buddha was pleased
with this response and continued,
"That is good Sariputta.
You shouldn't believe any teaching people give you too
easily. A sage must contemplate thoroughly everything he
hears before accepting it fully. You should take this
teaching away with you and contemplate it first."
Even though he had
received a teaching from the Buddha himself, Venerable
Sariputta didn't immediately believe every single word
of it. He was heedful of the right way to train his
mind, and took the teaching away with him to investigate
it further. He would only accept the teaching if, after
reflecting upon the Buddha's explanation of the truth,
he found that it stimulated the arising of wisdom in his
own mind and this insight made his mind peaceful and
unified with the Dharnma (Truth). The understanding that
arose must lead to the Dhamma becoming fixed within his
own mind. It had to be in accordance with the truth of
the way things are. The Buddha taught his disciples to
accept a point of Dhamma only if, beyond all doubt, they
found it to be in line with the way things are in
reality as seen both from one's own and other people's
experience and understanding.
In the end, the
important thing is to simply investigate the truth. You
don't have to look very far away, just observe what's
happening in the present moment. Watch what is happening
in your own mind. Let go of the past. Let go of the
future. Just be mindful of the present moment, and
wisdom will arise from investigating and seeing clearly
the characteristics of impermanence, suffering and
non-self. If you are walking see that it's impermanent,
if sitting see that it's impermanent, if lying down see
that it's impermanent - whatever you are doing, these
characteristics will be manifesting the whole time,
because this is the way things are. That which is
permanent is this truth of the way things are. That
never changes. If you cultivate insight to the point
where the way you view things is completely and
unwaveringly in line with this truth, you will be at
ease with the world.
Will it really be that
peaceful going to live alone up in the mountains
somewhere? It's only a temporary kind of peace. Once you
start to feel hungry on a regular basis and the body
lacks the nourishment that it's used to, you'll become
weary of the whole experience again. The body will be
crying out for its vitamins, but the hill-tribe people
who provide your alms-food don't know much about the
level of vitamins needed for a balanced diet. In the end
you'll probably come back down and return here to the
monastery. If you stay in Bangkok you'll probably
complain that the people offer too much food and that
it's just a burden and lots of hassle, so perhaps you
will decide it is better to go and live way out in
seclusion in the forest somewhere. In truth, you must be
pretty foolish if you find living on your own causes you
suffering. If you find living in a community with lots
of people is a lot of suffering, you are equally
foolish. It's like chicken shit. If you are walking on
your own somewhere carrying chicken shit, it stinks. If
there is a whole group of people walking around carrying
chicken shit, it stinks just the same. It can become
habitual to keep lugging around that which is rotten and
putrid. This is because you still have wrong view, but
for someone with right view, although they might be
quite correct to think that living in a large community
isn't very peaceful, they would still be able to gain
much wisdom from the experience.
For myself, teaching
large numbers of both monks, nuns and lay people has
been a great source of wisdom for me. In the past I had
fewer monks living with me, but then as more lay people
came to visit me and the resident community of monks and
nuns grew in size, I was exposed to much more because
everybody has different thoughts, views and experiences.
My patience, endurance and tolerance matured and
strengthened as it was stretched to its very limits.
When you keep reflecting, all such experience can be of
benefit to you. But if you don't understand the truth of
the way things are, at first you might think that living
alone is best and then after a while you might get bored
with it, so then you might think that living in a large
community is better. Or perhaps you might feel that
being in a place where there is only a little food
offered is the ideal. You might decide that a plentiful
supply of food is actually the best and that little food
is no good at all, or you might change again and
conclude that too much food is a bad thing. In the end,
most people just remain forever caught up in views and
opinions, because they don't have enough wisdom to
decide for themselves.
So try to see the
uncertainty of things. If you are in a large community,
it's uncertain. If you are living with just a small
group, it's also not a sure thing. Don't attach or cling
to views about the way things are. Put effort into being
mindful of the present moment; investigate the body,
penetrating deeper and deeper inside. The Buddha taught
monks and nuns to find a place to live and train where
you are at ease: where the food is suitable, the company
of fellow practitioners (kalyanamitta) is suitable and
the lodgings are comfortable. But actually finding a
place where all these things are just right and suited
to your needs is difficult, so at the same time, he also
taught that wherever you go to live you might have to
encounter discomfort and put up with things that you
don't like. For instance, how comfortable is this
monastery? If the lay people made it really comfortable
for you, what would it be like? Everyday they would be
at your service to bring you hot and cold drinks as you
wished and all the sweets and treats that you could eat.
They would be polite and praise you, saying all the
right things. That's what having good lay support is
like isn't it? Some monks and nuns like it that way:
"The lay supporters here are really great... it's really
comfortable and convenient." In no time at all the whole
training in mindfulness and insight just dies. That's
how it happens.
What is really
comfortable and suitable for meditation can mean
different things to different people, but once you know
how to make your own mind content with what you have,
then wherever you go you will feel at ease. If you have
to stay somewhere that would perhaps not be your first
choice, you still know how to remain content while you
train there. If it's time to go elsewhere then you are
content to go. You don't have any worries about these
external things. If you don't know very much, things can
be difficult; if you know too much it can also bring you
a lot of suffering - everything can be a source of
discomfort and suffering. As long as you don't have any
insight you will constantly be caught into moods of
satisfaction and dissatisfaction stimulated by the
conditions around you and potentially every little thing
can cause you to suffer. Wherever you go, the meaning of
the Buddha's teaching remains correct, but it is the
Dhamma in your own mind that is still not correct. Where
will you go to find the right conditions for practice?
Maybe such and such a monk has got it right and is
really practising hard with the meditation - as soon as
the meal is finished he hurries away to meditate. All he
does is practise developing his samadhi. He's really
dedicated and serious about it. Or maybe he isn't so
dedicated, because you can't really know. If you really
practise wholeheartedly for yourself, you are certain to
reach peace of mind. If others are really dedicated and
genuinely training themselves, why are they not yet
peaceful? This is the truth of the matter. In the end,
if they aren't peaceful, it shows that they can't be
really that serious about the practice after all.
When reflecting on the
training in samadhi, it's important to understand that
virtue (sila), concentration (samadhi) and wisdom
(pannya) are each essential roots that support the
whole. They are mutually supporting, each having its own
indispensable role to play. Each provides a necessary
tool to be used in developing meditation, but it's up to
each individual to discover skilful ways to make use of
them. Someone with a lot of wisdom can gain insight
easily; someone with little wisdom gains insight with
difficulty; someone without any wisdom won't gain any
insight. Two different people might be following the
same way of cultivating the mind, but whether they
actually gain insight into the Dhamma will depend on the
amount of wisdom each has. If you go to observe and
train with different teachers you must use wisdom to put
what you see in perspective. How does this Ajahn do it?
What's that Ajahn's style like? You watch them closely -
but that's as far as it goes. It's all just watching and
judging on the external level. It's just looking at
their behaviour and way of doing things on the surface.
If you simply observe things on this level you will
never stop doubting. Why does that teacher do it this
way? Why does this teacher do it another way? In that
monastery the teacher gives lots of talks, why does the
teacher in this monastery give so few talks? In that
other monastery the teacher doesn't even give any talks
at all! It's just crazy when the mind proliferates
endlessly, comparing and speculating about all the
different teachers. In the end you simply wind yourself
up into a mess. You must turn your attention inward and
cultivate for yourself. The correct thing to do is focus
internally on your own training, as this is how right
practice (samma-patipada) develops. You simply observe
different teachers and learn from their example, but
then you have to do it yourself. If you contemplate at
this more subtle level, all that doubting will stop.
There was one senior
monk who didn't spend a lot of time thinking and
reflecting about things. He didn't give much importance
to thoughts about the past or the future, because he
wouldn't let his attention move away from the mind
itself. He watched intently what was arising into his
awareness in the present moment. Observing the mind's
changing behaviour and different reactions as it
experienced things, he wouldn't attach importance to any
of it, repeating the teaching to himself. "It's
uncertain." "It's not a sure thing." If you can teach
yourself to see impermanence in this way, it won't be
long before you gain insight into the Dhamma.
In fact, you don't have
to run after the proliferating mind. Really, it just
moves around it's own enclosed circuit; it spins around
in circles. This is the way your mind works. It's
samsara vatta - the endless cycle of birth and death.
This completely encircles the mind. If you tried
pursuing the mind as it spins around would you be able
to catch it? It moves so fast would you even be able to
keep up with it? Try chasing after it and see what
happens... What you need to do is stand still at one
point, and let the mind spin around the circuit by
itself. Imagine the mind was a mechanical doll, which
was able to run around. If it began running faster and
faster until it was running at full speed, you wouldn't
be able to run fast enough to keep up with it. But
actually, you wouldn't need to run anywhere. You could
just stand still in one place and let the doll do the
running. If you were to stand still in the middle of the
circuit, without chasing after it, you would be able to
see the doll every time it ran past you and completed a
lap. In fact, if you did try running after it, the more
you tried to chase after and catch it, the more it would
be able to elude you.
As far as going on
thudong is concerned, I both encourage it and discourage
it at the same time. If the practitioner already has
some wisdom in the way of training, there should be no
problem. However, there was one monk I knew who didn't
see it as necessary to go on thudong into the forest; he
didn't see thudong as a matter of travelling anywhere.
Having thought about it, he decided to stay and train in
the monastery, vowing to undertake three of the dhutanga
practices and to keep them strictly, without going
anywhere. He felt it wasn't necessary to make himself
tired walking long distances with the heavy weight of
his monk's alms bowl, robes and other requisites slung
over his shoulder. His way was quite a valid one too;
but if you really had a strong desire to go out
wandering about the forests and hills on thudong, you
wouldn't find his style very satisfying. In the end, if
you have clear insight into the truth of things, you
only need to hear one word of the teaching and that will
bring you deep and penetrating insight.
Another example I could
mention is that young novice I once encountered who
wanted to practice living in a cemetery completely
alone. As he was still more or less a child, hardly into
his teens, I was quite concerned for his well being, and
kept an eye on him to see how he was doing. In the
morning he would go on alms round in the village, and
afterwards bring his food back to the cremation ground
where he would eat his meal alone, surrounded by the
pits where the corpses of those who hadn't been burned
were buried. Every night he would sleep quite alone next
to the remains of the dead. After I had been staying
nearby for about a week I went along to check and see
how he was. On the outside he seemed at ease with
himself, so I asked him:
"So you're not afraid
staying here then?"
"No I'm not afraid", he
replied.
"How come you're not
frightened?"
"It seems to me unlikely
that there's anything much to be afraid of."
All it needed was this
one simple reflection for the mind to stop
proliferating. That novice didn't need to think about
all sorts of different things that would merely
complicate the matter. He was "cured" straight away. His
fear vanished. You should try meditating in this way.
I say that whatever you
are doing - whether standing, walking, coming or going -
if you sustain mindfulness without giving up, your
samadhi won't deteriorate. It won't decline. If there's
too much food you say that it's suffering and just
trouble. What's all the fuss about? If there is a lot,
just take a small amount and leave the rest for
everybody else. Why make so much trouble for yourself
over this? It's not peaceful? What's not peaceful? Just
take a small portion and give the rest away. But if you
are attached to the food and feel bad about giving it up
to others, then of course you will find things
difficult. If you are fussy and want to have a taste of
this and a taste of that, but not so much of something
else, you'll find that in the end you've chosen so much
food that you've filled the bowl to the point where none
of it tastes very delicious anyway. So you end up
attaching to the view that being offered lots of food is
just distracting and a load of trouble. Why get so
distracted and upset? It's you who are letting yourself
get stirred up by the food. Does the food itself ever
get distracted and upset? It's ridiculous. You are
getting all worked up over nothing.
When there are a lot of
people coming to the monastery, you say it's disturbing.
Where's the disturbance? Actually, following the daily
routine and the ways of training is fairly
straightforward. You don't have to make a big deal out
of this: you go on alms round, come back and eat the
meal, you do any necessary business and chores, training
yourself with mindfulness, and just get on with things.
You make sure you don't miss out on the various parts of
the monastic routine. When you do the evening chanting
does your cultivation of mindfulness really collapse? If
simply doing the morning and evening chanting causes
your meditation to fall apart, it surely shows that you
haven't really learnt to meditate anyway. In the daily
meetings, the bowing, chanting praise to the Buddha,
Dhamma, Sangha and everything else you do are extremely
wholesome activities, so can they really be the cause
for your samadhi to degenerate? If you think that it's
distracting going to meetings, look again. It's not the
meetings that are distracting and unpleasant, it's you.
If you let unskilful thinking stir you up, then
everything becomes distracting and unpleasant - even if
you don't go out to the meetings, you end up just as
distracted and stirred up.
You have to learn how to
reflect wisely and keep your mind in a wholesome state.
Everybody gets caught into such states of confusion and
agitation, particularly those who are new to the
training. What actually happens is that you allow your
mind to go out and interfere with all these things and
stir itself up. When you come to train with a monastic
community determine yourself to just stay there and just
keep practising. Whether other people are training in
the correct way or wrong way is their business. Keep
putting effort into the training, following the monastic
guidelines and helping each other with any useful advice
you can offer. Anyone who isn't happy training here is
free to go elsewhere. If you want to stay then go ahead
and get on with the practice.
It has an extremely
beneficial effect on the community if there is one of
the group who is self-contained and solidly training
himself. The other monks around will start to notice and
take example from the good aspects of that monk's
behaviour. They will observe him and ask themselves how
it is he manages to maintain a sense of ease and calm
while training himself in mindfulness. The good example
provided by that monk is one of the most beneficial
things he can do for his fellow beings. If you are a
junior member of a monastic community, training with a
daily routine and keeping to rules about the way things
are done, you have to follow the lead of the senior
monks and keep putting effort into the routine. Whatever
the activity is you do it, and when it's time to finish
you stop. You say those things that are appropriate and
useful, and train yourself to refrain from speech that
is inappropriate and harmful. Don't allow that kind of
speech to slip out. There's no need to take lots of food
at the mealtime - just take a few things and leave the
rest. When you see that there's a lot of food, the
tendency is to indulge and start picking a little of
this and trying a little of that and that way you end up
eating everything that's been offered. When you hear the
invitation, "Please take some of this, Ajahn", "Please
take some of that, Venerable", if you're not careful it
will just stir up the mind. The thing to do is let go.
Why get involved with it? You think that it's the food
stirring you up, but the real root of the problem is
that you let the mind go out and meddle with the food.
If you can reflect and see this, it should make life a
lot easier. The problem is you don't have enough wisdom.
You don't have enough insight to see how the process of
cause and effect works.
Actually, while on the
road in the past, when it has been necessary I've even
been prepared to stay in one of the village or city
monasteries. In the course of your travels when you are
alone and have to pass through different monastic
communities that have varying standards of training and
discipline, recite the verse to yourself: "suddhi
asuddhi paccatam" (the purity or impurity of one's
virtue is something one knows for oneself), both as a
protection and as a guideline for reflection. You might
end up having to rely on your own integrity in this way.
When you are moving
through an area you haven't been to before you might
have to make a choice over the place you are going to
stay for the night. The Buddha taught that monks and
nuns should live in peaceful places. So, depending on
what's available, you should try and find a place to
stay and meditate that is peaceful. If you can't find a
really quiet place, you can as second best, at least
find a place where you are able to be at peace
internally. So, if for some reason it's necessary to
stay in a certain place, you must learn how to live
there peacefully - without letting craving (tanha)
overcome the mind. If you then decide to leave that
monastery or forest, don't leave because of craving.
Similarly, if you are staying somewhere, don't stay
there because of craving. Understand what is motivating
your thinking and actions. It's true that the Buddha
advised monastics to lead a lifestyle and find living
conditions that are conducive to peace and suitable for
meditation. How will you cope on those occasions when
you can't find a peaceful place? In the end the whole
thing could just drive you crazy. Where will you go
next? Stay right where you are; stay put and learn to
live in peace. Train yourself until you are able to stay
and meditate in the place you are in. The Buddha taught
that you should know and understand proper time and
place according to conditions; he didn't encourage monks
and nuns to roam around all over the place without any
real purpose. Certainly he recommended that we find a
suitable quiet place, but if that's not possible, it
might be necessary to spend a few weeks or a few months
in a place that isn't so quiet or suitable. What would
you do then? You would probably just die from the shock
of it!
So learn to know your
own mind and know your intentions. In the end,
travelling around from place to place is only that much.
When you move on to somewhere else, you tend to find
more of the same of what you left behind, and you're
always doubting about what might lie ahead at the next
place. Then, before you know it, you could find yourself
with malaria or some other unpleasant illness, and you'd
have to find a doctor to treat you, give you drugs and
injections... In no time at all, your mind would be more
agitated and distracted than ever!
Actually, the secret to
successful meditation is to bring your way of viewing
things in line with the Dhamma; the important thing is
to establish right view (sammaditthi) in the mind. It
isn't anything more complicated than that. But you have
to keep putting forth effort to investigate and seek out
the correct way for yourself. Naturally, this involves
some difficulty, because you still lack maturity of
wisdom and understanding.
So, what do you think
you'll do? Try giving thudong a go and see what
happens... you might get fed up with wandering about
again; it's never a sure thing. Or maybe you're thinking
that if you really get into the meditation, you won't
want to go on thudong, because the whole proposition
will seem uninteresting - but that perception is
uncertain. You might feel totally bored with the idea of
going on thudong, but that can always change and it
might not be long before you start wanting to go off
moving about again. Or you might just stay out on
thudong indefinitely and continue to wander from place
to place with no time limits or any fixed destination in
mind - again, it's uncertain. This is what you have to
reflect upon as you meditate. Go against the flow of
your desires. You might attach to the view that you'll
go on thudong for certain, or you might attach to the
view that you will stay put in the monastery for
certain, but either way you are getting caught in
delusion. You are attaching to fixed views in the wrong
way. Go and investigate this for yourself. I have
already contemplated this from my own experience, and
I'm explaining the way it is as simply and directly as I
can. So listen to what I am saying, and then observe and
contemplate for yourself. This really is the way things
are. In the end you will be able to see the truth of
this whole matter for yourself. Then, once you do have
insight into the truth, whatever decision you make will
be accompanied by right view and in accordance with the
Dhamma.
Whatever you decide to
do, whether to go on thudong or stay on in the
monastery, you must wisely reflect first. It isn't that
you are forbidden from going off wandering in the
forest, or going to find quiet places to meditate. If
you do go off walking, really make a go of it and walk
until you are worn out and ready to drop - test yourself
to the limits of your physical and mental endurance. In
the old days, as soon as I caught sight of the
mountains, I'd feel elated and be inspired to take off.
Nowadays when I see them, the body starts moaning just
at the sight of them and all I want to do is turn around
and go back to the monastery. There's not much
enthusiasm for all that any more. Before, I'd be really
happy to live up in the mountains - I even thought I'd
spend my whole life living up there!
The Buddha taught to be
mindful of what's arising in the present moment. Know
the truth of the way things are in the present moment.
These are the teachings he left you and they are
correct, but your own thoughts and views are still not
correctly in line with the Dhamma, and that's why you
continue to suffer. So try out thudong if it seems like
the right thing to do. See what it's like moving around
from place to place and how that affects your mind.
I don't want to forbid
you from going on thudong, but I don't want to give you
permission either. Do you understand my meaning? I
neither want to prevent you, nor allow you to go, but I
will share with you some of my experience. If you do go
on thudong, use the time to benefit your meditation.
Don't just go like a tourist, having fun travelling
around. These days it looks like more and more monks and
nuns go on thudong to indulge in a bit of sensual
enjoyment and adventure rather than to really benefit
their own spiritual training. If you do go, then really
make a sincere effort to use the dhutanga practices to
wear away the defilements. Even if you stay in the
monastery, you can take up these dhutanga practices.
These days, what they call "thudong" tends to be more a
time for seeking excitement and stimulation than
training with the thirteen dhutanga practices. If you go
off like that you are just lying to yourself when you
call it "thudong". It's an imaginary thudong. Thudong
can actually be something that supports and enhances
your meditation. When you go you should really do it.
Contemplate what is the true purpose and meaning of
going on thudong. If you do go, I encourage you to use
the experience as an opportunity to learn and further
your meditation, not just waste time. I won't let monks
go off if they are not yet ready for it, but if someone
is sincere and seriously interested in the practice, I
won't stop them.
When you are planning to
go off, it's worth asking yourself these questions and
reflecting on them first. Staying up in the mountains
can be a useful experience; I used to do it myself. In
those days I would have to get up really early in the
morning because the houses where I went on alms round
were such a long way away. I might have to go up and
down an entire mountain and sometimes the walk was so
long and arduous that I wouldn't be able to get there
and back in time to eat the meal at my camp before
midday. If you compare it with the way things are these
days, you can see that maybe it's not actually necessary
to go to such lengths and put yourself through so much
hardship. It might actually be more beneficial to go on
alms round to one of the villages near to the monastery
here, return to eat the meal and have lots of energy
left in reserve to put forth effort in the formal
practice. That's if you're training yourself sincerely,
but if you're just into taking it easy and like to go
straight back to your hut for a sleep after the meal,
that isn't the correct way to do it. In the days when I
was on thudong, I might have to leave my camp at the
crack of dawn and use up much of my energy just in the
walk across the mountains - even then I might be so
pushed for time I'd have to eat my meal in the middle of
the forest somewhere before getting back. Reflecting on
it now, I wonder if it's worth putting oneself to all
that bother. It might be better to find a place to
practice where the alms route to the local village is
not too long or difficult, which would allow you to save
your energy for formal meditation. By the time you have
cleaned up and are back at your hut ready to continue
meditating, that monk up in the mountains would still be
stuck out in the forest without even having begun to eat
his meal.
Views on the best way of
practice can differ. Sometimes, you actually have to
experience some suffering before you can have insight
into suffering and know it for what it is. Thudong can
have its advantages, but I neither criticise those who
stay in the monastery nor those who go off on thudong -
if their aim is to progress in training themselves. I
don't praise monks just because they stay in the
monastery, nor do I praise monks simply because they go
off on thudong either. Those who really deserve praise
are the ones with right view. If you stay in the
monastery, it should be for cultivating the mind. If you
go off, it should be for cultivating the mind. The
meditation and training goes wrong when you go off with
the group of friends you are attached to, only
interested in having a good time together and getting
involved in foolish pursuits.
What do you have to say
about the way of training? What do you think about what
I have been saying? What do you think you'll decide to
do in the future then?
Venerable S: I'd like to
ask for some teaching about the suitability of different
meditation objects for different temperaments. For a
long time now I've tried calming the mind by focusing
attention on the breathing in conjunction with reciting
the meditation word "Buddho", but I have never become
very peaceful. I've tried contemplating death, but that
hasn't helped calm the mind down. Reflecting on the five
aggregates (khandhas) hasn't worked either. So I've
finally exhausted all my wisdom.
Ajahn Chah: Just let go!
If you've exhausted all your wisdom, you must let go.
Venerable S: As soon as
I begin to experience a little bit of calm during
sitting meditation, a multitude of memories and thoughts
immediately spring up and disturb the mind.
Ajahn Chah: That's just
the point. It's uncertain. Teach yourself that it's not
certain. Sustain this reflection on impermanence as you
meditate. Every single sense object and mental state you
experience is impermanent without exception. Keep this
reflection present in the mind constantly. In the course
of meditation, reflect that the distracted mind is
uncertain. When the mind does become calm with samadhi,
it's uncertain just the same. The reflection on
impermanence is the thing you should really hold on to.
You don't need to give too much importance to anything
else. Don't get involved with the things that arise in
the mind. Let go. Even if you are peaceful, you don't
need to think too much about it. Don't take it too
seriously. Don't take it too seriously if you're not
peaceful either. Vinnyanam aniccam -have you ever read
that anywhere? It means sense consciousness is
impermanent. Have you ever heard that before? How should
you train yourself in relation to this truth? How should
you contemplate when you find that both peaceful and
agitated mind states are transient? The important thing
is to sustain awareness of the way things are. In other
words know that both the calm mind and the distracted
mind are uncertain. Once you know this, how will you
view things? Once this understanding is implanted in the
mind, whenever you experience peaceful states you know
that they are transient and when you experience agitated
states you know that they are transient also. Do you
know how to meditate with this kind of awareness and
insight?
Venerable S: I don't
know.
Ajahn Chah: Investigate
impermanence. How many days can those tranquil mental
states really last? Sitting meditation with a distracted
mind is uncertain. When the meditation brings good
results and the mind enters a state of calm that's also
uncertain. This is where insight comes. What is there
left for you to attach to? Keep following up on what's
happening in the mind. As you investigate, keep
questioning and prodding, probing deeper and deeper into
the nature of impermanence. Sustain your mindfulness
right at this point - you don't have to go anywhere
else. In no time at all, the mind will calm down just as
you want it to.
The reason practising
with the meditation word "Buddho" doesn't make the mind
peaceful, or practising mindfulness of breathing doesn't
make the mind peaceful is because you are attaching to
the distracted mind. When reciting "Buddho" or
concentrating on the breath and the mind still hasn't
calmed down, reflect on uncertainty and don't get too
involved with the state of mind whether it's peaceful or
not. Even if you enter a state of calm, don't get too
involved with it, because it can delude you and cause
you to attach too much meaning and importance to that
state. You have to use some wisdom when dealing with the
deluded mind. When it is calm you simply acknowledge the
fact and take it as a sign that the meditation is going
in the right direction. If the mind isn't calm you
simply acknowledge the reality that the mind is confused
and distracted, but there's nothing to be gained from
refusing to accept the truth and trying to struggle
against it. When the mind is peaceful you can be aware
that it is peaceful, but remind yourself that any
peaceful state is uncertain. When the mind is
distracted, you observe the lack of peace and know that
it is just that - the distracted state of mind is
equally as prone to change as a peaceful one.
If you have established
this kind of insight, the attachment to the sense of
self collapses as soon as you begin to confront it and
investigate. When the mind is agitated, the moment you
begin to reflect on the uncertainty of that state, the
sense of self, blown up out of attachment, begins to
deflate. It tilts to one side like an inflatable boat
that has been punctured. As the air rushes out of the
boat, it starts to capsize and similarly the sense of
self collapses. Try it out for yourself. The trouble is
that usually you fail to catch your deluded thinking
fast enough. As it arises, the sense of self immediately
forms around the mental agitation, but as soon as you
reflect on it's changing nature the attachment
collapses.
Try looking at this for
yourself. Keep questioning and examining deeper and
deeper into the nature of attachment. Normally, you fail
to stop and question the agitation in the mind. But you
must be patient and feel your way. Let the agitated
proliferation run its course, and then slowly continue
to feel your way. You are more used to not examining it,
so you must be determined to focus attention on it, be
firm and don't give it any space to stay in the mind.
But when I give talks, you usually burst out complaining
in frustration: "All this old Ajahn ever talks about is
impermanence and the changing nature of things." From
the first moment you can't stand hearing it and just
want to flee somewhere else. "Luang Por only has one
teaching... that everything is uncertain." If you are
truly really fed up with this teaching, you should go
off and pursue your meditation until you develop enough
insight to bring some real confidence and certainty to
your mind. Go ahead and give it a go. In no time at all
you will probably be back here again! So try to commit
these teachings to memory and store them in your heart.
Then go ahead and try out wandering about on thudong. If
you don't come to understand and see the truth in the
way I've explained, you'll find little peace. Wherever
you are, you won't be at ease within yourself. You won't
be able to find anywhere that you can really meditate at
all.
I agree that doing a lot
of formal meditation to develop samadhi is a good thing.
Are you familiar with the terms ceto vimutti and pannya
vimutti? Do you understand the meaning of them? Vimutti
means liberation from the mental taints (asavas). There
are two ways the mind can gain liberation: ceto vimutti
refers to liberation that comes after samadhi has been
developed and perfected to its most powerful and refined
level. The practitioner first develops the ability to
suppress the defilements completely through the power of
samadhi and then turns to the development of insight to
finally gain liberation. Pannya vimutti means release
from the outflows where the practitioner develops
samadhi to a level where the mind is completely
one-pointed and firm enough to support and sustain
insight, which then takes the lead in cutting through
the defilements.
These two kinds of
liberation are comparable to different kinds of trees.
Some species of trees grow and flourish with frequent
watering, but others can die if you give them too much
water. With those trees you only need to give them small
amounts of water, just enough to keep them going. Some
species of pine are like that: if you over water them
they just die. You only need to give them a little water
once in a while. Strange, isn't it? Look at this pine
tree. It appears so dry and parched that you wonder how
it manages to grow. Think about it. Where does it get
the water it needs to survive and produce those big,
lush branches? Other kinds of trees would need much more
water to grow to a similar size. Then there are those
kinds of plants that they put in pots and hang up in
different places with the roots dangling in mid-air.
You'd think they would just die, but very quickly the
leaves grow longer and longer with hardly any water at
all. If they were just the ordinary kind of plants that
grow on the ground, they would probably just shrivel up.
It's the same with these two kinds of release. Do you
see it? It is just that they naturally differ in this
way.
Vimutti means
liberation. Ceto vimutti is liberation that comes from
the strength of mind that has been trained in samadhi to
the maximum level. It's like those trees that need lots
of water to flourish. The other kinds of trees only need
a small amount of water. With too much water they just
die. It's their nature to grow and thrive requiring only
small amounts of water. So the Buddha taught that there
are two kinds of liberation from the defilements, ceto
vimutti and pannya vimutti. To gain liberation, it
requires both wisdom and the power of samadhi. Is there
any difference between samadhi and wisdom?
Venerable S: No.
Ajahn Chah: Why do they
give them different names? Why is there this split
between ceto vimutti and pannya vimutti?
Venerable S: It's just a
verbal distinction.
Ajahn Chah: That's
right. Do you see it? If you don't see this, you can
very easily go running around labelling and making such
distinctions and even get so carried away that you start
to lose your grip on reality. Actually though, each of
these two kinds of liberation does have a slightly
different emphasis. It wouldn't be correct to say that
they were exactly the same, but they aren't two
different things either. Am I correct if I answer in
this way? I will say that these two things are neither
exactly the same, nor different. This is the way I
answer the question. You must take what I have said away
with you and reflect on it.
Talking about the speed
and fluency of mindfulness makes me think of the time I
was wandering alone and having come across an old
abandoned monastery in the course of my travels, set up
my umbrella and mosquito net to camp there and practise
meditation for a few days. In the grounds of the
monastery there were many fruit trees, the branches of
which were laden with ripe fruit. I really wanted to eat
some but 1 didn't dare to because I was afraid that the
trees were the property of the monastery and I hadn't
received permission to take any. Later on a villager
came by with a basket and seeing that 1 was staying
there, asked me for permission to pick the fruit.
Perhaps they asked me because they thought I was the
owner of the trees. Reflecting on it, I saw that I had
no real authority to give them permission to take the
fruit, but that if I forbade them they would criticise
me as being possessive and stingy with the monastery's
fruit trees - either way there would be some harmful
results. So I replied to the layperson: "Even though I'm
staying in this monastery, I'm not the owner of the
trees. I understand you want some of the fruit... I
won't forbid you from taking any, but I won't give you
permission either. So it's up to you." That's all it
needed: they didn't take any! Speaking in this way was
actually quite useful; I didn't forbid them, but I
didn't give them permission either, so there was no
sense of being burdened by the matter. This was the wise
way to deal with such a situation - I was able to keep
one step ahead of them. Speaking that way produced good
results then and it's still a useful way of speaking to
this day. Sometimes if you speak to people in this
unusual manner it's enough to make them wary of doing
something wrong.
What do they mean by
temperament (carita)?
Bhikkhu A: Temperament?
I'm not sure how to answer that.
Ajahn Chah: The mind is
one thing, temperament is another and the wisdom faculty
another. So how do you train with this? Contemplate
them. How do they talk about them? There is the person
of lustful temperament, hateful temperament, deluded
temperament, intelligent temperament and so on.
Temperament is determined by those mental states within
which the mind attaches and conceals itself most often.
For some people it's lust, others it's aversion.
Actually, these are all just verbal descriptions of the
characteristics of the mind, but they can be
distinguished as distinct from each other.
So you've been a monk
for six years already. You've probably been running
after your thoughts and moods long enough - you've
already been chasing them for many years. There are
quite a few monks who want to go and live alone and I've
got nothing against it. If you want to live alone then
give it a go. If you're living in a community, stick
with it. Neither is wrong - if you don't reflect in the
wrong way. If you are living alone and caught into wrong
thinking, that will prevent you benefiting from the
experience. The most appropriate kind of place for
practising meditation is somewhere quiet and peaceful.
But when a suitably peaceful place is not available, if
you are not careful your meditation practice will just
die. You'll find yourself in trouble. So be careful not
to scatter your energy and awareness by seeking out too
many different teachers, different techniques or places
to meditate. Gather together your thoughts and focus
your energy. Turn attention inwards and sustain
awareness on the mind itself. Use these teachings to
observe and investigate the mind over a long period of
time. Don't discard them; keep them with you as a
subject for reflection. Look at what I've been saying
about all conditioned things being subject to change.
Impermanence is something to investigate over time. It
won't take long before you gain clear insight into it.
One teaching a senior monk gave me when I was new to
meditation that has stuck with me is simply to go ahead
and train the mind. The important thing is not to get
caught up in doubting. That's enough for now.
The five khandhas: the
five groups or aggregates that the Buddha has summed up
all physical and mental phenomena of existence, and
which appear to the deluded person as a self or
personality. They are physical form (rupa-khandha),
feeling (vedana), memory and perception (sannya), mental
formations (sankhara) and sense consciousness
(vinnyana).
Thudong (Thai Language)
generally refers to the practice of wandering. It is
derived from the Pali word dhutanga, which refers to the
thirteen austere practices. These are strict observances
recommended by the Buddha to monks, as a help to
cultivate contentedness, renunciation, energy and other
wholesome qualities. One or more of them may be observed
for a shorter or longer period of time. They include the
vows of: wearing patched-up robes, wearing only three
robes, going for alms, not omitting any house while
going for alms, eating at one sitting, eating only from
the alms-bowl, refusing all further food, living in the
forest, living under a tree, living in the open air,
living in a cemetery, being satisfied with whatever
dwelling and sleeping in the sitting position.
Generally the monks
living in the village and city monasteries in Thailand
will spend more time studying the Pali language and the
Buddhist scriptures than training in the rules of
discipline or meditation, which is more emphasized in
the forest tradition.
The four asava or taints
include: the taint of sense-desire (kamasava), of
desiring eternal existence (bhavasava), of wrong views (ditthasava),
and of ignorance (avijjasava).
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