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Introduction
Suppose you were to go to Asia in the 1980s in search of living
teachings of the Buddha, to discover if there are still monks and nuns
practicing a life of simplicity and meditation, supported by alms-food,
and dwelling in the forest. Perhaps you had read descriptions of the
Buddha himself wondering with his monks in the forests of India,
inviting men and women of good families to join him in cultivating
wisdom and universal compassion, inviting them to live the simple life
of a mendicant, to dedicate themselves to inner calm and awareness.
Would you find this way of life alive today, twenty-five centuries
later? And would its teachings still be applicable and relevant for-our
modem society, our modem minds?
You would land at a modem airport near Bangkok or Colombo or Rangoon. In
your taxi you would drive through Asian city streets, passing cars,
crowded busses, sidewalk vendors of tropical fruits. Every few blocks
you would see the golden pagoda or spire of an urban Buddhist temple.
But these are not the temples you have come to search for. They contain
monks and nuns who study the ancient texts, who can chant and preach,
and from this they teach. But to find the simple life of dwelling in the
forest, the meditative living with robe and bowl, as old as the Buddha
himself, you would have to leave the cities and their temples far
behind. If it were Thailand, the country with the greatest number of
monasteries and monks, you would board the train at busy Hualampong
station, leaving early in the morning for the provinces of the far south
or northeast.
The first hour's journey would take you clear of the urban sprawl,
beyond the houses, businesses, and shanties backed up along the railway
track. Vast plains of central Thailand would roll by, the green rice
bowl of Southeast Asia. Mile after mile of paddy fields, checkerboarded
into lots by small dikes between fields and rhythmically divided by
canals and waterways. On the horizon of this sea of rice, every few
miles in four or five directions you would see islands-dense clusters of
palm and banana trees. If your train rolled close enough to one of these
palm islands, you would see the glint of an orange-roofed monastery and
cluster of wooden houses on stilts that make up a Southeast Asian
village.
Every settled village, whether with five hundred or two thousand
residents, has at least one monastery. It serves as the place for
prayer, for ceremony, as the meeting hall, and for many years also
served as the village school. Here is the place where most young men of
the village will ordain at age twenty, for one year or three months, to
learn enough of the ways of the Buddha to "ripen" into mature members of
their society. The monastery is probably run by a few older, simple, and
well-meaning monks who have studied some of the classic texts and know
enough of ceremonies and of the basic teachings to serve as village
priests. This monastery is an integral and beautiful part of village
life, but it is not the temple you have come to search for.
Your train heads north toward the ancient capitol of Auddhaya, filled
with the ruins of magnificent temples and 'broken palaces that were
sacked centuries ago in the periodic wars with neighboring kingdoms. The
spirit of these magnificent ruins remains in the enormous stone Buddhas,
imperturbably weathering the centuries.
Now your train turns east for the long journey toward the Lao border,
across the reaches of the Korat Plateau. Hour after hour the land
passes. Still you see rice paddies and villages, but they gradually
become sparser and poorer. The canals and lush gardens of Central Thai
villages, mango trees, and tropical greenery turn into a simpler
landscape. Houses are smaller. Village monasteries still gleam, but they
too are smaller and simpler. Here an older, more self-sufficient way of
life is preserved. You can see women weaving hand loomed blankets on
their porches, while rice farmers work and children tend the water
buffalo in wet gullies alongside the railroad tracks.
The rural countryside in these lesser developed provinces holds much of
what remains of the tradition of forest monks and nuns. It still has
regions of forest and jungle, small thickly covered mountains, and
unsettled borderlands. And for many centuries it has supported forest
monks and monasteries dedicated to the preservation and realization of
the enlightenment of the Buddha. For the most part these monks do not
function as village priests, nor do they teach school, nor study and
preserve the language of the ancient written scriptures. Their intent is
to live fully and realize in their own hearts and minds the insight and
inner peace taught by the Buddha.
If you left the train and made your way by bus or hired car down some
dirt road to such a monastery, one of dozens in northeast Thailand, what
would you find? Would the teachings and way of practice be relevant in
the 1980s? Would the insight and awareness training address the needs of
one coming from a modern and complex society?
You would discover that many Westerners had come before you. Since 1965
hundreds of Europeans and Americans like you have come to visit and
learn in the forest. Some came to study for short periods and then
returned home to integrate what they learned into their household life.
Some came to train more thoroughly as monks for one, two, or more years
and then return home. Another group found life in the forest to be a
rich and compelling way to live, and these remain in monasteries to this
day.
For each of these groups the teachings have spoken directly to their
hearts and minds, offering them a wise and conscious way to live. At
first the way may seem almost easy, deceptively simple. But upon
attempting to put the Buddha's way into practice, one discovers that it
is not so easy. Yet, despite the effort it takes, these people feel that
nothing could be more valuable than to discover the Dharma* or truth in
one's own life.
From the moment of your entry into a forest monastery like Wat Ba Pong,
the spirit of practice is evident. There is the stillness of trees
rustling and the quiet movement of monks doing chores or mindful walking
meditation. The whole monastery is spread over a hundred acres, divided
into two sections form monks and nuns. The simple unadorned cottages are
individually nestled in small forest clearings so that there are trees
and silent paths between them. In the central area of the Wat are the
main teaching hall, dining area, and chapel for ordination. The whole
forest setting supports the atmosphere of simplicity and renunciation.
You feel that you have finally arrived.
The monks who live in those monasteries have chosen to follow this
uncomplicated and disciplined way of practice called dhudanga. The
tradition of forest monks who voluntarily choose to follow a more
austere way of life dates back to the Buddha, who allowed a
supplementary code of thirteen special precepts, limiting the robes,
food, and dwellings of monks. At the heart of this life style are few
possessions, much meditation, and a once-daily round of alms-food
begging. This way of life spread with the rest of Buddhism into the
thick forests of Burma, Thailand, and Laos, places filled with caves and
wild terrain, ideal for such intensive practice. These ascetic monks
have traditionally been wanderers, living singly or in small groups,
moving from one rural area to another, and using handmade cloth umbrella
tents hung from trees as their temporary abode. Practical Dharma
teachings from one of the greatest forest monasteries, Wat Ba Pong, and
its master Achaan Chah have been translated and compiled and are offered
to the West in this book.
Achaan Chah and his teachers, Achaan Tong Rath and Achaan Mum,
themselves spent many years walking and meditating in these forests to
develop their practice. From them and other forest teachers has come a
legacy of immediate and powerful Dharma teachings, directed not toward
ritual Buddhism or scholastic learning, but toward those who wish to
purify their hearts and vision by actually living the teachings of the
Buddha.
As great masters emerged in this forest tradition, laypersons and monks
sought them out for teaching advice. Often, to make themselves
available, these teachers would stop wandering and settle in a
particular forest area where a dhudanga monastery would grow up around
them. As population pressures have increased in this century, fewer
forest areas are left for wanderers, and these forest monastery
preserves of past and current masters are becoming the dwelling place of
most ascetic and practice-oriented monks.
Wat Ba Pong monastery developed when Achaan Chah, after years of travel
and meditation study, returned to settle in a thick forest grove near
the village of his birth. The grove, uninhabited by humans, was known as
a place of cobras, tigers, and ghosts-the perfect location for a forest
monk, according to Achaan Chah. Around him a large monastery grew up.
From its beginnings as a few thatched huts in the forest, Wat Ba Pong
has developed into one of the largest and best-run monasteries in
Thailand. As Achaan Chah's skill and fame as a teacher have become
widespread, the number of visitors and devotees has rapidly increased.
In response to requests from devotees throughout Thailand, over fifty
branch monasteries under the guidance of abbots trained by Achaan Chah
have also been opened, including one near Wat Ba Pong especially
designed for the many Western students who have come to seek Achaan
Chah's guidance in the teachings. In recent years several branch
monasteries and associated centers have been opened in Western countries
as well, most notably the large forest Wat at Chithurst, England, run by
Abbot Sumedho, Achaan Chah's Senior Western disciple.
Achaan Chah's teachings contain what has been called "the heart of
Buddhist meditation," the direct and simple practices of calming the
heart and opening the mind to true insight. This way of mindfulness or
insight meditation has become a rapidly growing form of Buddhist
practice in the West. Taught by monks and laypeople who have themselves
studied in forest monasteries or intensive retreat centers, it provides
a universal and direct way of training our bodies, our hearts, and our
minds. It can teach us how to deal with greed and fear and sorrow and
how to learn a path of patience, wisdom, and selfless compassion. This
book is meant to provide guidance and counsel for those who wish to
practice.
Achaan Chah's own practice started early in life and developed through
years of wandering and austerity under the guidance of several great
forest masters. He laughingly recalls how, even as a child, he wanted to
play monk when the other children played house and would come to them
with a make believe begging bowl asking for candy and sweets. But his
own practice was difficult, he relates, and the qualities of patience
and endurance he developed are central to the teachings he gives his own
disciples. A great inspiration for Achaan Chah as a young monk came from
sitting at his father's sickbed during the last days and weeks of his
father's life, directly facing the fact of decay and death. 'When we
don't understand death," Achaan Chah teaches, "life can be very
confusing." Because of this experience, Achaan Chah was strongly
motivated in his practice to discover the causes of our worldly
suffering and the source of peace and freedom taught by the Buddha. By
his own account, he held nothing back, giving up everything
for the Dharma, the truth. He encountered much hardship and suffering,
including doubts of all kinds as well as physical illness and pain. Yet
he stayed in the forest and sat-sat and watched-and, even though there
were days when he could do nothing but cry, he brought what he calls a
quality of daring to his practice. Out of this daring eventually grew
wisdom, a joyful spirit, and an uncanny ability to help others.
Given spontaneously in the Thai and Lao languages, the teachings in this
book reflect this joyful spirit of practice. Their flavor is clearly
monastic, oriented to the community of men who have renounced the
household life to join Achaan Chah in the forest. Hence frequent
reference is made to he rather than he or she, and the emphasis is on
the monks (an active community of forest nuns also exists) rather than
laypersons. Yet the quality of the Dharma expressed here is immediate
and universal, appropriate to each of us. Achaan Chah addresses the
basic human problems of greed, fear, hatred, and delusion, insisting
that we become aware of these states and of the real suffering that they
cause in our lives and in our world. This teaching, the Four Noble
Truths, is the first given by the Buddha and describes suffering, its
cause, and the path to its end.
See how attachment causes suffering, Achaan Chah declares over and over.
Study it in your experience. See the ever-changing nature of sight,
sound, perception, feeling, and thought. Understanding the impermanent,
insecure, selfless nature of life is Achaan Chah's message to us, for
only when we see and accept all three characteristics can we live in
peace. The forest tradition works directly with our understanding of and
our resistance to these truths, with our fears -
and anger and desires. Achaan Chah tells us to confront our defilements
and to use the tools of renunciation, perseverance, and awareness to
overcome them. He urges us to learn not to be lost in our moods and
anxieties but to train ourselves instead to see clearly and directly the
true nature of mind and the world.
Inspiration comes from Achaan Chah's clarity and joy and the directness
of his ways of practice in the forest. To be around him awakens in one
the spirit of inquiry, humor, wonderment, understanding, and a deep
sense of inner peace. If these pages capture a bit of that spirit in
their instructions and tales of the forest life and inspire you to
further practice, then their purpose is well served.
So listen to Achaan Chah carefully and take him to heart, for he teaches
practice, not theory, and human happiness and freedom are his concerns.
In the early years when WatBa Pong was starting to attract many
visitors, a series of signs was posted along the entry path. "You there,
coming to visit," the first one said, "be quite We're trying to
meditate." Another stated simply, "To practice Dharma and realize truth
is the only thing of value in this life. Isn't it time to begin?" In
this spirit, Achaan Chah speaks to us directly, inviting us to quiet our
hearts and investigate the truth of life. Isn't it time that we begin?
PART 1
Understanding the Buddha's Teachings
Achaan Chah asks us to begin our practice simply and directly with the
understanding that the Buddha's truths of suffering and liberation can
be seen and experienced right here, within' our own bodies, hearts, and
minds. The eightfold path, * he tells us, is not to be found in books or
scriptures but can be discovered in the workings of our own sense
perceptions, our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. To study
these in an immediate and wakeful way and cultivate mindfulness is the
path of insight prescribed by the Buddha. It has been kept alive and
followed by those monks, nuns, and laypeople inspired to devote
themselves to practice in the centuries since.
Achaan Chah speaks as a contemporary living representative of this
ancient teaching. His wisdom and mastery have not come through study or
tradition but are born of his years of practice, his diligent effort to
employ meditation to calm the heart and awaken the mind. His own
practice was inspired and guided by the wisdom of several great forest
masters a generation before him. And he invites us to follow their
example and his.
Look at what makes up your world-the six senses, the processes of body
and mind. These processes will become clear through examination and an
ongoing training of attention. As you observe note how fleeting and
impermanent are each of the sense objects which appear. You will see the
conditioned tendency to grasp or to resist these changing objects. Here,
teaches Achaan Chah, is the place to learn a new way, the path of
balance, the Middle Path.
Achaan Chah urges us to work with our practice, not as an ideal, but in
our everyday life situations. It is here that we develop strength to
overcome our difficulties and a constancy and greatness of heart. It is
here, he says, in each moment that we can step out of our struggle with
life and find the inner meaning of right understanding and with it the
peace of the Buddha.
The Simple Path
Traditionally the Eightfold Path is taught with eight steps such as
Right Understanding, Right Speech, Right Concentration, and so forth.
But the true Eightfold Path is within us-two eyes, two ears, two
nostrils, a tongue, and a body. These eight doors are our entire Path
and the mind is the one that walks on the Path. Know these doors,
examine them, and all the dharmas will be revealed.
The heart of the path is SO simple. No need for long explanations. Give
up clinging to love and hate, just rest with things as they are. That is
all I do in my own practice.
Do not try to become anything. Do not make yourself into anything. Do
not be a meditator. Do not become enlightened. When you sit, let it be.
When you walk, let it be. Grasp at nothing. Resist nothing.
Of course, there are dozens of meditation techniques to develop samadhi
and many kinds of vipassana. But it all comes back to this-just let it
all be. Step over here where it is cool, out of the battle.
Why not give it a try? Do you dare?
The Middle Way
The Buddha does not want us to follow the double path-desire and
indulgence on the one hand and fear and aversion on the other. Just be
aware of pleasure, he teaches. Anger, fear, dissatisfaction are not the
path of the yogi but the path of-worldly people. The tranquil person
walks the Middle Path of right practice, leaving grasping on the left
and fear and aversion on the right.
One who undertakes the path of practice must follow this Middle Way: "1
will not take interest in pleasure or pain. I will lay them down." But,
of course, it is hard at first. It is as though we are being kicked on
both sides. Like a cowbell or a pendulum, we are knocked back and forth.
When Buddha preached his first sermon, he discoursed on these two
extremes because this is where attachment lies. The desire for happiness
kicks from one side; suffering and dissatisfaction kick from the other.
These two are always besieging us. But when you walk the Middle Path,
you put them both down.
Don't you see? If you follow these extremes, you will simply strike out
when you are angry and grab for what attracts you, without the slightest
patience or forbearance. How long can you, go on being trapped in this
way? Consider it: if you like something, you follow after it when liking
arises, yet it is just drawing you on to seek suffering. This mind of
desire is really clever. Where will it lead you next?
The Buddha teaches us to keep laying down the extremes. This is the path
of right practice, the path leading out of birth and becoming. On this
path, there is neither pleasure nor pain, neither good nor evil. Alas,
the mass of humans filled with desiring just strive for pleasure and
always bypass the middle, missing the Path of the Excellent One, the
path of the seeker of truth. Attached to birth and becoming, happiness
and suffering, good and evil, the one who does not travel this Middle
Path cannot become a wise one, cannot find liberation. Our Path is
straight, the path of tranquility and pure awareness, calmed of both
elation and sorrow. If your heart is like this, you can stop asking
other people for guidance.
You will see that when the heart / mind is unattached, it is abiding in
its normal state. When it stirs from 'the normal because of various
thoughts and feelings, the process of thought construction takes place,
in which illusions are created. Learn to see through this process. When
the mind has stirred from normal, it leads away from right practice to
one of the extremes of indulgence or aversion, thereby creating more
illusion, more thought construction. Good or bad only arises in your
mind. If-you keep a watch on your mind, studying this one topic your
whole life, I guarantee that you will never be bored.
Ending Doubt
Many people who have studied on a university level and attained graduate
degrees and worldly success find that their lives are still lacking.
Though they think high thoughts and are intellectually sophisticated,
their hearts are still filled with pettiness and doubt. The vulture
flies high, but what does it feed on?
Dharma is understanding that goes beyond the conditioned, compounded,
limited understanding of worldly science. Of course, worldly wisdom can
be used to good purpose, but progress in worldly wisdom can cause
deterioration in religion and moral values. The important thing is to
develop super mundane wisdom that can use such technology while
remaining detached from it.
It is necessary to teach the basics first-basic morality, seeing the
transitoriness of life, the facts of aging and death. Here is where we
must begin. Before you drive a car or ride a bicycle, you must learn to
walk. Later, you may ride in an airplane or travel around the world in
the blink of an eye.
Outward, scriptural study is not important. Of course, the Dharma books
are correct, but they are not right. They cannot give you right
understanding. To see the word hatred in print is not the same as
experiencing anger, just as hearing a person's name is different from
meeting him. Only experiencing for yourself can give you true faith.
There are two kinds of faith. One is a kind of blind trust in the
Buddha, the teachings, the master, which often leads one to begin
practice or to ordain. The second is true faith-certain,
unshakable-which arises from knowing within oneself. Though one still
has other defilements to overcome, seeing dearly all things within
oneself makes it possible to put an end to doubt, to attain this
certainty in one's practice.
Go Beyond Words: See for Yourself
In my own practice, I did not know or study much. I took the
straightforward teachings the Buddha gave and simply began to study my
own mind according to nature. When you practice, observe yourself. Then
gradually knowledge and vision will arise of themselves. If you sit in
meditation and want it to be this way or that, you had better stop right
there. Do not bring ideals or expectations to your practice. Take your
studies, your opinions, and store them away.
You must go beyond all words, all symbols, all plans for your practice.
Then you can see for yourself the truth, arising right here. If you do
not turn inward, you will never know reality. I took the first few years
of formal Dharma text study, and when I had the opportunity, I went to
hear various scholars and masters teach, until such study became more of
a hindrance than a help. I did not know how, to listen to their sermons
because I had not looked within.
The great meditation masters spoke about the truth within oneself.
Practicing, I began to realize that it existed in my own mind as well.
After a long time, I realized that these teachers have really seen the
truth and that if we follow their path, we will encounter everything
they have spoken about. Then we will be able to say, ''Yes, they were
right. What else could there be? Just this." When I practiced
diligently, realization unfolded like that.
If you are interested in Dharma, just give up, just let go. Merely
thinking about practice is like pouncing on the shadow and missing the
substance. You need not study much. If you follow the basics and
practice accordingly, you will see the Dharma for yourself. There must
be more than merely hearing the words. Speak just with yourself, observe
your own mind. If you cut off this verbal, thinking mind, you will have
a true standard for judging. Otherwise, your understanding will not
penetrate deeply. Practice in this way and the rest will follow.
Buddhist Psychology
One day, a famous woman lecturer on Buddhist metaphysics came to see
Achaan Chah. This woman gave periodic teachings in Bangkok on the
abhidharma and complex Buddhist psychology. In talking to Achaan Chah,
she detailed how important it was for people to understand Buddhist
psychology and how much her students benefited from their study with
her. She asked him whether he agreed with the importance of such
understanding.
"Yes, very important", he agreed.
Delighted, she further questioned whether he had his own students learn
abhidharma.
"Oh, yes, of course."
And where, she asked, did he recommend they start, which books and
studies were best?
"Only here," he said, pointing to his heart, "only here."
Study and Experiencing
Let us talk about the difference between studying Dharma ideas and
applying them in practice. True Dharma study has only one purpose-to
find a way out of the unsatisfactoriness of our lives and to achieve
happiness and peace for ourselves and all beings. Our suffering has
causes for its arising and a place to abide. Let us understand this
process. When the heart is still, it is in its normal condition; when
the mind moves, thought is constructed. Happiness and sorrow are part of
this movement of mind, this thought construction. So also is
restlessness, the desire to go' here and there. If you do not understand
such movement, you will chase after thought constructions and be at
their mercy.
Therefore, the Buddha taught us to contemplate the movements of the
mind. Watching the mind move, we can see its basic characteristics:
endless flux, unsatisfactoriness and emptiness. You should be aware of
and contemplate these mental phenomena. In this way, you can learn about
the process of dependent origination. The Buddha taught that ignorance
is the cause of the arising of all worldly phenomena and of our
volitions. Volition gives rise to consciousness, and consciousness in
turn gives rise to mind and body. This is the process of dependent
origination.
When we first study Buddhism, these traditional teachings may appear to
make sense to us. But when the process is actually occurring within us,
those who have only read about it cannot follow fast enough. Like a
fruit falling from a tree, each link in the chain falls so fast that
such people cannot tell what branches it has passed. When pleasurable
sense contact takes place, for example, they are carried away by the
sensation and are unable to notice how it happened.
Of course, the systematic outline of the process in the texts is
accurate, but the experience is beyond textual study. Study does not
tell you that this is the experience of ignorance arising, this is how
volition feels, this is a particular kind of consciousness, this is the
feeling of the different elements of body and mind. When you let go of a
tree limb and fall to the ground, you do not go into detail about how
many feet and inches you fell; you just hit the ground and experience
the pain. No book can describe that.
Formal Dharma study is systematic and refined, but reality does not
follow a single track. Therefore, we must attest to what arises from the
one who knows, from our deepest wisdom. When our innate wisdom, the one
who knows, experiences the truth of the heart / mind, it will be dear
that the mind is not our self. Not belonging to us, not I, not mine, ail
of it must be dropped. As to our learning the names of all the elements
of mind and consciousness, the Buddha did not want us to become attached
to the words. He
just wanted us to see that all this is impermanent, unsatisfactory, and
empty of self. He taught only to let go. When these things arise, be
aware of them, know them. Only a mind that can do this is properly
trained.
When the mind is stirred up, the various mental formations, thought
constructions, and reactions start arising from it, building and
proliferating continually. Just let them be, the good as well as the
bad. The Buddha said simply, "Give them up." But for us, it is necessary
to study our own minds to know how it is possible to give them up.
If we look at the model of the elements of mind, we see that it follows
a natural sequence: mental factors are thus, consciousness arises and
passes like this, and so forth. We can see in our own practice that when
we have right understanding and awareness, then right thought, right
speech, right action, and right livelihood automatically follow.
Different mental elements arise from that very one who knows. The one
who knows is like a lamp. If understanding is right, thought and all the
other factors will be right as well, like the light emanating from the
lamp. As we watch with awareness, right understanding grows.
When we examine all that we call mind, we see only a conglomeration of
mental elements, not a self. Then where can we stand? Feeling, memory,
all the five-aggregates of mind and body are shifting like leaves in the
wind. We can discover this through meditation.
Meditation is like a single log of wood. Insight and investigation are
one end of the log; calm and concentration are the other end. If you
lift up the whole log, both sides come up at once. Which is
concentration and which is insight? Just this mind.
You cannot really separate concentration, inner tranquility, and
insight. They are just as a mango that is first green and sour, then
yellow and sweet, but not two different fruits. One grows into the other
without the first, we would never have the second. Such terms are only
conventions for teaching; We should not be attached to the language. The
only source of true knowledge is to see what is within ourself. Only
this kind of study has an end and is the study of real value.
The calmness of the mind at the beginning stage of concentration arises
from the simple practice of one pointedness. But when this calm departs,
we suffer because we have become attached to it. The attainment of
tranquility is not yet the end, according to the Buddha. Becoming and
suffering still exist.
Thus, the Buddha took this concentration, this tranquility, and
contemplated further. He searched out the truth of the matter until he
was no longer attached to tranquility. Tranquility is just another
relative reality, one of numerous mental formations, only a stage on the
path. If you are attached to it, you will find yourself still stuck in
birth and becoming, based on your pleasure in tranquility. When
tranquility ceases, agitation will begin and you will be attached even
more.
The Buddha went on to examine becoming and birth to see where they
arise. As he did not yet know the truth of the matter, he used his mind
to contemplate further, to investigate all the mental elements that
arose. Whether tranquil or not, he continued to
penetrate, to examine further, until he finally realized that all that
he saw, all the five aggregates of body and mind, were like a red-hot
iron ball. When it is red-hot all over, where can you find a cool spot
to touch? The same is true of the five aggregates-to grasp any part
causes pain. Therefore, you should not get attached even to tranquility
or concentration; you should not say that peace or tranquility is you or
yours. To do so just creates the painful illusion of self, the world of
attachment and delusion, another red-hot iron ball.
In our practice, our tendency is to grasp, to take experiences as me and
mine. If you think, '1 am calm, I am agitated, I am good or bad, I am
happy or unhappy," this clinging causes more becoming and birth. When
happiness ends, suffering appears; when suffering ends, happiness
appears. You will see yourself unceasingly vacillating between heaven
and hell. The Buddha saw that the condition of his mind was thus, and he
knew, because of this birth and becoming, his liberation was not yet
complete. So he took up these elements of experience and contemplated
their true nature. Because of grasping, birth and death exist. Becoming
glad is birth; becoming dejected is death. Having died, we are then
born; having been born, we die. This birth and death from one moment to
the next is like the endless spinning of a wheel.
The Buddha saw that whatever the mind gives rise to are just transitory,
conditioned phenomena, which are really empty. When this dawned on him,
he let go, gave up, and found an end to suffering. You too must
understand these matters according to the truth. When you know things as
they are, you will see that these elements of mind are a deception, in
keeping with. the Buddha's teaching that this mind has nothing, does not
arise, is not born, and does not die with anyone. It is free, shining,
resplendent, with nothing to occupy it. The mind becomes occupied only
because it misunderstands and is deluded by these conditioned phenomena,
this false sense of self.
Therefore, the Buddha had us look at our minds. What exists in the
beginning? Truly, not anything. This emptiness does not arise and die
with phenomena. When it contacts something good, it does not become
good; when it contacts something bad, it does not become bad. The pure
mind knows these objects clearly, knows that they are not substantial.
When the mind Of the meditator abides like this, no doubt exists. Is
there becoming? Is there birth? We need not ask anyone. Having examined
the elements of mind, the Buddha let them go and became merely one who
was aware of them. He just watched with equanimity. Conditions leading
to birth did not exist for him. With his complete knowledge, he called
them all impermanent, unsatisfactory, empty of self. Therefore, he
became the one who knows with certainty. The one who knows sees
according to this truth and does not become happy or sad according to
changing conditions. This is true peace, free of birth, aging, sickness,
and death, not dependent on causes, results, or conditions, beyond
happiness and suffering, above good and evil. Nothing can be spoken
about it. No conditions promote it any longer.
Therefore, develop samadhi, calm and insight; learn to make them arise
in your mind and really use them. Otherwise, you will know only the
words of Buddhism and with the best intentions, go around merely
describing the characteristics of existence. You may be clever, but when
things arise in your mind, will you follow them? When you come into
contact with something you like, will you immediately become attached?
Can you let go of it? When unpleasant experiences arise, does the one
who knows hold that dislike in his mind, or does he let go? If you see
things that you dislike and still hold on to or condemn them, you should
reconsider-this is not yet correct, not yet the supreme. If you observe
your mind in this way, you will truly know for yourself.
I did not practice using textbook terms; I just looked at this one who
knows. If it hates someone, question why. If it loves someone, question
why. Probing all arising back to its origin, you can solve the problem
of clinging and hating and get them to leave you alone. Everything comes
back to and arises from the one who knows. But repeated practice is
crucial.
The Chicken or the Egg?
During his first visit to England, Achaan Chah spoke to many Buddhist
groups. One evening after a talk he received a question from a dignified
English lady who had spent many years studying the complex cybernetics
of the mind according to the eighty-nine classes of consciousness in the
Buddhist abhidharma psychology texts. Would he please explain certain of
the more difficult aspects of this system of psychology to her so she
could continue her study?
Dharma teaches us to let go. But at first, we naturally cling to the
principles of Dharma. The wise person takes these principles and uses
them as tools to discover the essence of our life.
Sensing how caught up she was in intellectual concepts rather than
benefiting from practice in her own heart, Achaan Chah answered her
quite directly, ''You, madam, are like one who keeps hens in her yard,"
he told her, "and goes around picking up the chicken droppings instead
of the eggs."
Thieves in Your Heart
The purpose of meditation is to raise things up and put them to the
test, to understand their essence. For example, we see the body as
something fine and beautiful, whereas the Buddha tells us it is unclean,
impermanent, and prone to suffering. Which view accords with the truth?
We are like
visitors to a foreign country; not knowing the language, we cannot enjoy
ourselves. But once we have learned the language, we can laugh and joke
with others. Or we are like children who have to grow up before we can
understand what the grownups are saying.
The normal view
is that the elements of our life, beginning with the body, are stable.
One child plays with his balloon until it catches on a branch or a thorn
and bursts, leaving him in tears. Another child, smarter than the first,
knows that his balloon can burst easily and is not upset when it does.
People go through life blindly, ignoring the fact of death like gourmets
feasting on fine foods, never thinking they will have to excrete. Then
nature calls, but having made no provision, they do not know where to
go. There is danger in the world-danger from the elements, danger from
thieves. These dangers have their counterpart in the temples too. The
Buddha taught us to investigate these dangers and gave the name bhikkhu
to one who ordains. Bhikkhu has two meanings: one who begs and one who
sees danger in the round of samsara, of grasping. Beings experience
greed, hatred, and delusion. Succumbing to these defilements, they reap
the results, increase their bad habits, make yet more karma, and again
succumb to defilements.
Why can't you
get rid of greed, hatred, and delusion? If your thinking is wrong, you
will suffer; if you understand correctly, you can end suffering.
Know the
workings of karma, of cause and effect. Attachment to pleasure brings
suffering in its wake. You gorge yourself on good food, but stomach
trouble and intestinal discomfort follow. Or you steal something and are
happy with it, but later the police come around to arrest you. When you
watch, you can learn how to act, you can learn to end grasping and
sorrow. The Buddha, seeing this, wanted to escape from the real dangers
of the world, which we have to overcome within ourselves. External
dangers are not as frightening as the dangers within: What are the
elements of this inner danger?
Wind. Things
come at the senses, causing compulsion, lust, anger, and ignorance to
arise, destroying what is good in us. Normally, we see the wind only as
that which blows the leaves about, not seeing the wind of our senses,
which, unwatched, can cause the storms of desire.
Fire. Our temple
may never have been struck by fire, but greed, hatred, and delusion burn
us constantly. Lust and aversion cause us to speak and do wrong;
delusion leads us to see good as bad, bad as good, .the ugly as
beautiful, the valueless as valuable. But one who does not meditate does
not see this and is overcome by these fires.
Water. Here the
danger is the flood of defilement in our hearts submerging our true
nature.
Thieves. The
real thieves do not exist outside us. Our monastery has seen thieves
only once in twenty years, but inwardly the five gangs of attachment,
the aggregates, are ever robbing, beating, and destroying us. What are
these five aggregates?
1.
Body. It is a prey to illness and pain; when it does not accord
with our wishes, we have grief and sorrow. Not understanding the natural
aging and decay of the body, we suffer. We feel attraction or repulsion
toward the bodies of others and are robbed of true peace.
2. Feelings. When pain and pleasure arise, we
forget that they are impermanent, suffering, not self; we identify with
our emotions and are thus tortured by our wrong understanding.
3. Memories and perceptions. Identifying with what
we recognize and remember gives rise to greed, hatred, and delusion. Our
wrong understanding becomes habitual, stored in the subconscious.
4. Volitions and other elements of mind. Not
understanding the nature of mental states, we react, and thoughts and
feelings, likes and dislikes, happiness and sorrow arise. Forgetting
that they are impermanent, suffering, and selfless, we cling to them.
5. Consciousness. We grasp that which knows the
other aggregates. We think, "I know, I am, I feel," and are bound by
this illusion of self, of separation.
All these
thieves, this wrong understanding, leads to wrong action. The Buddha had
no desire for this; he saw that there was no true happiness to be found
here. Thus, he gave the name bhikkhu to those who also see this danger
and seek a way out.
The Buddha
taught his monks the true nature of the five aggregates and how to let
go of them without clinging to them as me or mine. When we understand
them, we will see that they have potential for great harm or great
value, but they do not disappear. They are simply no longer grasped as
our own. After his enlightenment, the Buddha still had physical ills,
had feelings of pain and pleasure, had memories, thoughts, and
consciousness. But he did not cling to them as being self, as being me
or mine. He knew them as they were, and the one who knew was also not I,
not self.
Separating the
five aggregates from the defilements and from clinging is like clearing
the brush in the forest without destroying the trees. There is just a
constant arising and falling away; defilement cannot gain a foothold. We
are simply being born and dying with the aggregates; they just come and
go, according to their nature.
If someone
curses us and we have no feelings of self, the incident ends with the
spoken words, and we do not suffer. If unpleasant feelings arise, we
should let them stop there, realizing that the feelings are not us. " He
hates me, he troubles me, he is my enemy." A bhikkhu does not think like
this, nor does he hold views of pride or comparison. If we do not stand
up in the line of fire, we do not get shot; if there is no one to
receive it, the letter is sent back. Moving gracefully through the world
not caught in evaluating each event, a bikkhu becomes serene. This is
the way of NirVana, empty and free
Investigate the
five aggregates, then; make a clean forest. You will be a different
person. Those who understand emptiness and practice accordingly are few,
but they come to know the greatest joy. Why not try it? You can abolish
the thieves in your heart and set everything right.
PART 2
Correcting Our Views
When you pick mushrooms, Achaan Chah cautions, you must know what to
look for. When you undertake spiritual practice you must also know what
attitudes to nourish, what dangers to avoid, and what mental qualities
to encourage.
Here he emphasizes the power of training our endurance and courage,
developing a willingness to find the Middle Path and follow it despite
temptation and defilement. When greed, hatred, or delusion arise, he
says, don't give in to them. Don't be discouraged. Just stay mindful and
strong in your resolve.
As your training develops you will see that every single experience you
pass through is impermanent, and thus unsatisfactory. You will discover
firsthand the end less truth of these characteristics in all existence
and begin to learn the way of freedom, of nonattachment. But Achaan Chah
reminds us that this requires a willingness to investigate both our
sufferings and our joys with an equal mind.
When the heart becomes calm and the mind clear, we come closer to the
truth of what Achaan Chah calls, "Just that much." The Dharma, the
truth, is really very simple. All things that arise and pass, the whole
world of changing phenomena, is really only "that much!" When we truly
discover what this means, then here in our world we can come to peace.
The Wrong Road
A wandering ascetic, having heard of the Buddha, traveled everywhere
looking for him. One night he came to stay in a house where the Buddha
was also staying but, not knowing the Buddha's physical appearance, he
was unaware of his presence. The next morning he arose and continued on
his way, still searching for the Buddha. To search for peace and
enlightenment without correct understanding is like this.
Due to a lack of understanding of the truth of suffering and its
elimination, all the subsequent factors on the path will be wrong-wrong
intentions, wrong speech, wrong actions, and wrong practice of
concentration and tranquility. Your likes and dislikes are not a
trustworthy guide in this matter either, although foolish people may
take them for their ultimate reference. Alas, it is like traveling to a
certain town you unknowingly start out on the wrong road, and since it
is a convenient one, you travel it in comfort. But it will not take you
where you want to go.
Right Understanding
One develops right understanding by seeing impermanence, suffering, and
not-self in everything, which leads to detachment and loss of
infatuation. Detachment is not aversion. An aversion to something we
once liked is temporary, and the craving for it will return.
Imagine some food that you like-bamboo shoots or sweet curry, for
example. Imagine having it everyday for five or six years; you would get
tired of bamboo shoots. If someone were to offer you some, you would not
get excited. In the same way, we should see impermanence, suffering, and
emptiness in all things at all times: bamboo shoots!
We seek not for a life of pleasure, but to find peace. Peace is within
oneself, to be found in the same place as agitation and suffering. It is
not found in a forest or on a hilltop, nor is it given by a teacher.
Where you experience suffering, you can also find freedom from
suffering. To try to run away from suffering is actually to run toward
it. Investigate suffering, see its causes, and put an end to them right
now, rather than merely dealing with their effects.
Starving Defilements
Those just beginning often wonder what practice is. Practice occurs when
you try opposing the defilements, not feeding old habits. Where friction
and difficulty arise, that's the place to work.
When you pick mushrooms to eat, you do not do so blindly; you have to
know which kind is which. So too with our practice-we must know the
dangers, the snake's bite of defilements, in order to free ourselves
from them.
The defilements-greed, hatred and delusion-are at the root of our
suffering and our selfishness. We must learn to overcome them, to
conquer and go beyond their control, to become masters of our minds. Of
course it seems hard. It is like having the Buddha tell you to split up
with a friend you have known since childhood.
The defilements are like a tiger. We should imprison the tiger in a good
strong cage made of mindfulness, energy, patience, and endurance. Then
we can let it starve to death by not feeding its habitual desires. We do
not have to take a knife and butcher it.
Or defilements are like a cat. If you feed it, it will keep coming
around. Stop feeding it, and eventually it will not bother to come
around any more.
We will unavoidably be hot and distressed in our practice at first. But
remember, only the defilements are hot. People think, '1 never had
problems like this before. What's wrong?" Before, when we fed our
desires, we were at peace with them, like a man who takes care of an
internal infection by dressing only the external sores.
Resist defilements. Do not give them all the food or sleep they want.
Many people consider this the extreme of self-torture, but it is
necessary to become inwardly strong. See for yourself. Constantly
watching the mind, you may think you are seeing only effects and wonder
about the causes. Suppose parents have a child who grows up to be
disrespectful. Distressed by his behaviour, they may ask, 'Where has
this child come from?" Actually, our suffering comes from our own wrong
understanding, our attachment to various mental activities. We must
train our mind like a buffalo: the buffalo is our thinking, the owner is
the meditator, raising and training the buffalo is the practice. With a
trained mind, we can see the truth, we can know the cause of our self
and its end, the end of all sorrow. It is not complicated, you know.
Everyone has defilements in his practice. We must work with them,
struggling when they arise. This is not something to think about but to
do. Much patience is necessary. Gradually we have to change our habitual
ways of thinking and feeling. We must see how we suffer when we think in
terms of me and mine. Then we can let go.
Happiness and Suffering
A young Western monk had just arrived at one of Achaan Chah's forest
monasteries and asked permission to stay and practice.
I hope you're not afraid of suffering" was Achaan Chah's first response.
Somewhat taken aback, the young Westerner explained that he did not come
to suffer but to learn meditation and to live peacefully in the forest.
Achaan Chah explained, ''There are two kinds of suffering: the suffering
that leads to more suffering and the suffering that leads to the end of
suffering. If you are not willing to face the second kind of suffering,
you will surely continue to experience the first."
Achaan Chah's way of teaching is usually straightforward and direct.
When he meets his monks on the monastery grounds, he often asks, "Are
you suffering much today?" If one answers yes, he replies, 'Well, you
must have many attachments today," and then laughs with the monk about
it.
Have you ever had happiness? Have you ever had suffering? Have you ever
considered which of these is really valuable? If happiness is true, then
it should not dissolve, should it? You should study this point to see
what is real, what is true. This study, this meditation, leads to right
understanding.
The Discriminating Mind
Right understanding ultimately means non-discrimination-seeing all
people as the same, neither good nor bad, neither clever nor foolish;
not thinking that honey is sweet and good and some other food is bitter.
Although you may eat several kinds of food, when you absorb and excrete
them, they all become the same. Is it one or many? Is a glass big? In
relation to a little cup, yes; when placed next to a pitcher, no.
Our desire and ignorance, our discrimination color everything in this
way. This is the world we create. Again, a pitcher is neither heavy nor
light; we just feel that it is one way or the other. In the Zen koan of
the flag in the wind, two persons are watching a flag: one says it is
the wind that moves, the other says it is the flag. They can argue
forever, take sticks and fight it out, all to no avail, for it is the
mind that moves.
There are always differences. Get to know those differences, yet learn
to see the sameness too. In our group people come from different
backgrounds, different cultures. Yet without thinking, 'This one's Thai,
that one's Lao, he's Cambodian, he's a Westerner," we should have mutual
understanding and respect for the ways of others. Learn to see the
underlying sameness of all things, how they are all truly equal, truly
empty. Then you can know how to deal with the apparent differences
wisely. But do not get attached even to this sameness.
Why is sugar sweet and water tasteless? It is just their nature. So too
with thinking and stillness, pain and pleasure-it is wrong understanding
to want thinking to cease. Sometimes there is thought, sometimes
stillness. We must see that both are by nature impermanent,
unsatisfactory, not a cause for lasting happiness. But if we continue to
worry and think further, '1 am suffering, I want to stop thinking," this
wrong understanding only complicates things.
At times, we may feel that thinking is suffering, like a thief robbing
us of the present. What can we do to stop it? In the day, it is light;
at night, it is dark. Is this itself suffering? Only if we compare the
way things are now with other situations we have known and wish it were
otherwise. Ultimately things are just as they are-only our comparisons
cause us to suffer.
You see this mind at work-do you consider it to be you or yours? "I
don't know if it's me or mine," you answer, "but it's certainly out of
control." It is just like a monkey jumping about senselessly. It goes
upstairs, gets bored, runs back downstairs, gets tired of that, goes to
a movie, gets bored again, has good food or poor food, gets bored with
that too. Its behavior is driven not by dispassion but by different
forms of aversion and fear.
You have to learn control. Stop caring for the monkey-care for the truth
of life instead. See the real nature of the mind: impermanent,
unsatisfactory, empty. Learn to be its master; chain it down if you
must. Do not just follow it, let it wear itself out and die. Then you
have a dead monkey. Let the dead monkey rot away, and you have monkey's
bones.
Still enlightenment does not mean to become dead like a Buddha statue.
One who is enlightened thinks also but knows the process as impermanent,
unsatisfactory, and empty of self. We who practice must see these things
clearly. We need to investigate suffering and stop its causes. If we do
not see it, wisdom can never arise. There should be no guesswork, we
must see things exactly as they are-feelings are just feelings, thoughts
are just thoughts. This is the way to end all our problems.
We can see the mind as a lotus. Some lotuses are still stuck in the mud,
some have climbed above the mud but are still underwater, some have
reached the surface, while others are open in the sun, stain-free. Which
lotus do you choose to be? If you find yourself below the surface:,
watch out for the bites of fishes and turtles.
Sense Objects and the Mind
We do not examine ourselves; we just follow desire, caught in endless
rounds of grasping and fearing, wanting to do just as we please.
Whatever we do, we want it to be at our ease. If we are not able to have
comfort and pleasure any longer, we are unhappy, anger and aversion
arise, and we suffer, trapped by our mind.
For the most part, our thinking follows sense objects, and, wherever
thought leads us, we follow. However, thinking and wisdom are different;
in wisdom, the mind becomes still, unmoving, and we are simply aware,
simply acknowledging. Normally, when sense objects come, we think about,
dwell on, discourse over, and worry about them. Yet none of those
objects is substantial; all are impermanent, unsatisfactory, and empty.
Just cut them short and dissect them into these three common
characteristics. When you sit again, they will arise again, but just
keep observing them, keep checking them out.
This practice is like caring for a buffalo and a rice field. The mind is
like the buffalo that wants to eat the rice plants, sense objects; the
one who knows is the owner. Consider the comparison. When you tend a
buffalo, you let it go free but you keep watch over it. You cannot be
heedless. If it goes close to the rice plants, you shout at it and it
retreats. If it is stubborn and will not obey your voice, you take a
stick and hit it. Do not fall asleep in the daytime and let everything
go. If you do, you will have no rice plants left, for sure.
When you are observing your mind, the one who knows constantly notices
all. As the sutras say, "He who watches over his mind shall escape the
snares of Mara the Evil One." Mind is mind, but who is it that observes
it? Mind is one thing, the one who knows is another. At the same time
the mind is both the thinking process and the knowing. Know the
mind-know how it is when it meets sense objects and how it is when it is
apart from them. When the one who knows observes the mind in this way,
wisdom arises. If it meets an object, it gets involved, just like the
buffalo. Wherever it goes, you must watch it. When it goes near the rice
plants, shout at it. If it will not obey, just give it the stick.
When the mind experiences sense contact, it grabs hold. When it grabs
hold, the one who knows must, teach it-explaining what is good and what
is bad, pointing out the workings of cause and effect, showing that
anything it holds on to will bring undesirable results until mind
becomes reasonable, until it lets go. In this way, the training will
take effect, and the mind will become tranquil.
The Buddha taught us to lay everything down, not like a cow or a buffalo
but knowingly, with awareness. In order for us to know, he taught us to
practice much, develop much, rest firmly on the principles of the
Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, and apply them directly to our own life.
From the beginning I have practiced like this. In teaching my disciples,
I teach like this. We want to see the truth not in a book or as an ideal
but in our own minds. If the mind is not yet free, contemplate the cause
and effect of each situation until the mind sees clearly and can free
itself from its own conditioning. As the mind becomes attached again,
examine each new situation-do not stop looking, keep at it, drive the
point home. Then attachment will find no where to rest. This is the way
I myself have practiced.
If you practice like this, true tranquility is found in activity, in the
midst of sense objects. At first, when you are working on your mind and
sense objects come, you cling to them or avoid them. You are therefore
disturbed, not peaceful. When you sit and wish not to have sense
contact, not to have thinking the very wish not to have is desire. The
more you struggle with your thinking, the stronger it becomes. Just
forget about it and continue to practice. When you make contact with
sense objects, contemplate: impermanent, unsatisfactory, not self. Throw
everything into these three pigeonholes, file everything under these
three categories, and keep contemplating.
Problems of the World
Many people, particularly educated, professional people, are moving out
of the big cities, seeking quieter living and simpler livelihood in the
small towns and rural areas. This is natural. If you grab a handful of
mud and squeeze it, it will ooze through your fingers. People under
pressure likewise seek a way out.
People ask me about the problems of our world, about a corning
apocalypse. I ask, what does it mean to be worldly? What is the world?
You do not know? This very unknowing, this very darkness, this very
place of ignorance, is what is meant by worldly. Caught in the six
senses, our knowledge develops as a part of this darkness. To come to an
answer to the problems of the world, we must know its nature completely
and realize the wisdom that shines above the darkness of the world.
These days, it seems that our culture is deteriorating, lost in greed,
hatred, and delusion. But the culture of the Buddha never changes, never
diminishes. It says, "Do not lie to others or to ourselves. Do not steal
from others or from ourselves." Worldly culture has desire as its
director and guide. The culture of the Buddha has compassion and Dharma,
or truth, as its guide.
Just That Much
When you take a good look at it, this world of ours is just that much;
it exists just as it is. Ruled by birth, aging, sickness, and death, it
is only that much. Great or little is only that much. The wheel of life
and death is only that much. Then why are we still attached, caught up,
not removed? Playing around with the objects of life gives us some
enjoyment; yet this enjoyment is also just that much.
Whatever is pleasurable, delicious, exciting, good, is just that much;
it has its limit, it is not as if it is anything outstanding. The Buddha
taught that everything is just that much, of equal value. We should
contemplate this point. Just look at the Western monks who
have come here to practice. They have experienced much pleasure and
comfort in their lives, but it was only that much; trying to make more
of it just drove them crazy. They became world travelers, let everything
go-it was still only that much. Then they carne
here to the forest to learn to give it all up, all attachments, all
suffering.
All conditioned things are the same-impermanent, caught up in the cycle
of birth and death. Just look at them; they are only that much. All
things in this world exist thus. Some people say, ''Doing virtuous
deeds, practicing religion, you grow old just the same." This may be
true of the body, but not of the heart, of virtue; when we understand
the difference, we have a chance to become free.
Look at the elements of our body and mind. They are conditioned
phenomena, arising from a cause and therefore impermanent. Their nature
is always the same, it cannot be changed. A great noble and a common
servant are the same. When they become old, their act comes to an end;
they can no longer put on airs or hide behind masks. There is nowhere to
go, no more taste, no more texture. When you get old, your sight becomes
dim, your hearing weakens, your body becomes feeble-you must face
yourself.
We human beings are constantly in combat, at war to escape the fact of
being just that much. But instead of escaping, we continue to create
more suffering, waging war with good, waging war with evil, waging war
with what is small, waging war with what is big, waging war with what is
short or long or right or wrong, courageously carrying on the battle.
The Buddha taught the truth, but we are like buffalo-unless they are
tied down firmly by all four legs, they will not allow themselves to be
given any medicine. Once they have been tied down and cannot do
anything-aha, now you can go ahead and give them medicine, and they are
unable to struggle away. In the same way, most of us must be totally
bound up in suffering before we will let go and give up our delusions.
If we can still writhe away, we will not yet give in. A few people can
understand the Dharma
when they hear it taught and explained by a teacher. But life must teach
most of us all the way to the end.
You can pull on the end of a rope, but if the other end is stuck, the
rope will never budge. In order to make it come free, you need to find
out where it is stuck, you need to seek out the source or the root of
the problem. We must use our practice fully to discover how we are
stuck, to discover the heart of peace. We must follow the ox's tracks
from the beginning, from the point at which it left the corral. If we
start in the middle of the trail, we will not be able to tell whose ox's
tracks they are, and thus we could be led anywhere.
Therefore, the Buddha spoke of first correcting our views. We must
investigate the very root of suffering, the very truth of our life. If
we can see that all things are just that much, we will find the true
Path. We must come to know the reality of conditioned phenomena, the way
things are. Only then can we have peace in our world.
Follow Your Teacher
As you grow in Dharma, you should have a teacher to instruct and advise
you. The matter of concentrating the mind, of samadhi, is much
misunderstood; phenomena occur in meditation that otherwise do not
normally arise. When this happens, a teacher's guidance is crucial,
especially in those areas in which you have wrong understanding. Often
where he corrects you will be just where you thought you were right. In
the complexity of your thinking, one view may obscure the other and you
get fooled. Respect your teacher and follow the rules or system of
practice. If the teacher says to do something, do it. If he says to
desist, desist. This allows you to make an honest effort and leads to
making knowledge and vision manifest in your mind. If you do as I am
saying, you will see and know.
True teachers speak only of the difficult practice of giving up or
getting rid of the self. Whatever may happen, do not abandon the
teacher. Let him guide you, because it is easy to forget the Path.
Alas, few who study Buddhism really want to practice. I certainly urge
them to practice, but some people can only study in a logical way. Few
are willing to die and be born again free. I feel sorry for the rest.
Trust Your Heart
In the practice of Dharma, there are many methods; if you know their
point, they will not lead you astray. However, if you are a practitioner
who does not properly respect virtue and a collected mind, you will not
succeed, because you are bypassing the Path followed by the great forest
masters of the past. Do not disregard these basics. If you wish to
practice, you should establish virtue, concentration, and wisdom in your
mind and aspire to the Three Gems-Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. Stop all
activity, be an honest person, and go to it. Although various things
deceive you time after time, if you are aware of them, you will
eventually be able to drop them. The same old person comes telling the
same old lies; if you know it, you need not believe him. But it takes a
long time before you know; our habits are ever striving to deceive.
When I had been practicing for only two or three years, I still could
not trust myself. But after I had experienced much, I learned to trust
my own heart. When you have this deep understanding, whatever occurs,
you can let it occur, and all things will pass on and be quelled. You
will reach a point where the heart tells itself what to do; it is
constantly prodding, constantly mindful. Your only concern need be to
continue contemplating.
Why Do You Practice?
A group of travelers came to visit Achaan Chah with three elegant
questions: Why do you practice? How do you practice? What is the result
of your practice? They were sent as a delegation by a European religious
organization to ask these questions to a series of great masters
throughout Asia.
Achaan Chah closed his eyes, waited, and then answered with three
questions of his own: Why do you eat? How do you eat? How do you feel
after you have eaten well? Then he laughed.
Later, he explained that we already understand and that teaching has to
direct students back to their own inner wisdom, to their own natural
Dharma. Therefore, he had reflected the search of these men throughout
Asia back to the greater search within.
Let the Tree Grow
The Buddha taught that with things that come about of their own, once
you have done your work, you can leave the results to nature, to the
power of your accumulated karma. Yet your exertion of effort should not
cease. Whether the fruit of wisdom comes quickly or slowly, you cannot
force it, just as you cannot force the growth of a tree you have
planted. The tree has its own pace. Your job is to dig a hole, water and
fertilize it, and protect it from insects. That much is your affair, a
matter of faith. But the way the tree grows is up to the tree. If you
practice like this, you can be sure all will be well, and your plant
will grow.
Thus, you must understand the difference between your work and the
plant's work. Leave the plant's business to the plant, and be
responsible for your own. If the mind does not know what it needs to do,
it will try to force the plant to grow and flower and give fruit in one
day. This is wrong view, a major cause of suffering. Just practice in
the right direction and leave the rest to your karma. Then, whether it
takes one or one hundred or one thousand lifetimes, your practice will
be at peace.
Too Much of a Good Thing
When Achaan Chah arrived at a new American meditation center, the many
Western students there were quickly charmed and impressed by his
teaching. He was clear and direct yet loving and humorous as he poked
fun at people's fears and attachments. It was exciting to have such a
skilful and famous master visit. The new stories, golden-robed monks,
and fresh expressions of Dharma were all wonderful. "Please do not go as
soon as you planned, do try to stay a long time," the students
requested. "We are so happy to have you."
Achaan Chah smiled. "Of course, things are nice when they are new. But
if I stay and teach and make you work, you will get tired of me, won't
you? How is your practice when the excitement wears off? You would be
bored with me before long. How does this restless, wanting mind stop?
Who can teach you that? There only can you learn the real Dharma."
PART 3
Our Life is Our Practice
Meditation is not separate from the rest of life. All situations
provide opportunity to practice, to grow in wisdom and compassion.
Achaan Chah teaches that the right effort for us is to be mindful in all
circumstances without running away from the world but to learn to act
without grasping or attachment.
Furthermore, he insists that the foundation of a spiritual life is
virtue. Although virtue is neglected in our modern society, it must be
understood and honoured as a fundamental part of meditation. Virtue
means taking care so that we do not harm other beings by thought, word,
or deed. This respect and caring puts us into a harmonious relationship
with all life around us. Only when our words and deeds come from
kindness can we quiet the mind and open the heart. The practice of
non-harming is the way to begin turning all life situations into
practice.
To further establish our lives on the Middle Way, Achaan Chah recommends
moderation and self reliance. A life of excess is difficult soil for the
growth of wisdom. To take care with the basics-such as moderation in
eating, sleeping, and in speech-helps bring the inner life into balance.
It also develops the power of self-reliance. Don't imitate the way
others practice or compare yourself to them, Achaan Chah cautions; just
let them be. It is hard enough to watch your own mind, so why add the
burden of judging others. Learn to use your own breath and everyday life
as the place of meditation and you will surely grow in wisdom.
Meditation in Action
Proper effort is not the effort to make something particular happen. It
is the effort to be aware and awake in each moment, the effort to
overcome laziness and defilement, the effort to make each activity of
our day meditation.
To Grasp a Snake
"Our
practice here is not to grasp anything," Achaan Chah told a new monk.
"But isn't it necessary to hold onto things sometimes?" the monk
protested.
"With the hands, yes! but not with the heart," the teacher replied.
"When the heart grasps what is painful, it is like being bitten by a
snake. And when, through desire, it grasps what is pleasant, it is just
grasping the tail of the snake. It only takes a little while longer for
the head of the snake to come around and bite you. .
"Make this nongrasping and mindfulness the guardian of your heart, like
a parent. Then your likes and dislikes will come calling like children.
'I don't like that, Mommy. I want more of that, Daddy.' Just smile and
say, 'Sure, kid.' 'But Mommy, I really want an elephant.' 'Sure, kid.'
'I want candy. Can we go for an airplane ride?' There is no problem if
you can let them come and go without grasping."
Something contacts the senses; like or dislike arises; and right there
is delusion. Yet with mindfulness, wisdom can arise in this same
experience.
Do not fear places where many things contact the senses, if you must be
there. Enlightened does not mean being deaf and blind. Saying a mantra
every second to block things out, you may get hit by a car. Just be
mindful and do not be fooled. When others
say something is pretty, say to yourself, "It's not." When others say
something is delicious, say to yourself, "No, it's not." Do not get
caught in the attachments of the world or in relative judgments. Just
let it all go by.
Some people are afraid of generosity. They feel that they will be
exploited or oppressed, that they will not be properly caring for
themselves. In cultivating generosity, we are only oppressing our greed
and attachment. This allows our true nature to express itself and become
lighter and freer.
Virtue
There are two levels of practice. The first is the foundation, a
development of precepts, virtue, or morality in order to bring
happiness, comfort, and harmony among people. The second, more intensive
and unconcerned with comfort is the practice of Buddha Dharma directed
solely toward awakening, toward the liberation of the heart. This
liberation is the source of wisdom and compassion and the true reason
for the Buddha's teaching. Understanding these two levels is the basis
for true practice.
Virtue and morality are the mother and father of the Dharma growing
within us, providing it with the proper nourishment and direction.
Virtue is the basis for a harmonious world in which people can live
truly as humans, not animals. Developing virtue is at the heart of our
practice. It is very simple. Keep the training precepts. Do not kill,
steal, lie, commit sexual misdeeds, or take intoxicants that make you
heedless. Cultivate compassion and a reverence for all life. Take care
with your goods, your possessions, your actions, your speech. Use virtue
to make your life simple and pure. With virtue as a basis for everything
you do, your mind will become kind, clear, and quiet. Meditation will
grow easily in this soil. .
The Buddha said, "Refrain from what is bad, do good, and purify the
heart." Our practice, then, is to get rid of what is worthless and keep
what is valuable. Do you still have anything bad or unskillful in your
heart? Of course! So why not clean house?
As true practice, this getting rid of bad and cultivating good is fine,
but limited. Finally, we must step over and beyond both good and bad. In
the end, there is a freedom that includes all and a desirelessness from
which love and wisdom naturally flow.
Right effort and virtue are not a question of what you do outwardly but
of constant inner awareness and restraint. Thus, charity, if given with
good intention, can bring happiness to oneself and others. But virtue
must be the root of this charity for it to be pure.
When those who do not understand the Dharma act improperly, they look
left and right to make sure no one is looking. How foolish! The Buddha,
the Dharma, our karma, are always watching. Do you think the Buddha
cannot see that far? We never really get away with anything.
Take care of your virtue as a gardener takes care of trees. Do not be
attached to big and small, important and unimportant. Some people want
shortcuts-they say, "Forget concentration, we'll go straight to insight;
forget virtue, we'll start with concentration."
We have so many excuses for our attachment. We must start right here
where we are, directly and simply. When the first two steps, virtue and
right views, have been completed, then the third step, uprooting
defilement, will naturally occur without deliberation. When light is
produced, we no longer worry about getting rid of darkness, nor do we
wonder where the darkness has gone. We just know that there is light.
Following the precepts has three levels. The first is to undertake them
as training rules given to us by our teachers. The second arises when we
undertake and abide in them by ourselves. But for those at the highest
level, the Noble Ones, it is not even necessary to think of precepts, of
right or wrong. This true virtue comes from the wisdom that knows the
Four Noble Truths in the heart and acts from this understanding.
The Spiral of Virtue, Concentration and Wisdom
The Buddha taught a way out of suffering-the causes of suffering and a
practical path. In my practice, I just know this simple path-good in the
beginning as virtue, good in the middle as concentration, good in the
end as wisdom. If you carefully consider these three, you will see that
they actually merge into one.
Let us then consider these three related factors. How does one practice
virtue? Actually, in developing virtue, one must begin with wisdom.
Traditionally, we speak of keeping precepts, establishing virtue, first.
Yet for virtue to be complete, there must be wisdom to understand the
full implications of virtue. To start, you must examine your body and
speech, investigating the process of cause and effect. If you
contemplate body and speech to see in what ways they can cause harm, you
will begin to understand, control, and purify both cause and effect.
If you know the characteristics of what is skilful and unskilful in
physical and verbal behaviour, you already see where to practice in
order to give up what is unskilful and do what is good. When you give up
wrong and set yourself right, the mind becomes firm, unswerving,
concentrated. This concentration limits wavering and doubt as to body
and speech. With the mind collected, when forms or sounds come, you can
contemplate and see them clearly. By not letting your mind wander, you
will see the nature of all experiences according to the truth. When this
knowledge is continuous, wisdom arises.
Virtue, concentration, and wisdom, then, can be taken together as one.
When they mature, they become synonymous-that is the Noble Path. When
greed, hatred, and delusion arise, only this Noble Path is capable of
destroying them.
Virtue, concentration, and wisdom can be developed in support of each
other, then, like a spiral ever revolving, relying on sights, sounds,
smells, tastes, touches, and mind objects. Then whatever arises, Path is
always in control. If Path is strong, it destroys the defilements-greed,
hatred, and ignorance. If it is' weak, mental defilements can gain
control, killing this mind of ours. Sights, sounds, and so on arise, and
not knowing the truth of them, we allow them to destroy us.
Path and defilement walk side by side in this way. The student of Dharma
must always contend with both of them, as if there were two persons
fighting. When the Path takes control, it strengthens awareness and
contemplation. If you are able to remain aware, defilement will admit
defeat when it enters the contest again. If your effort is straight on
the Path, it keeps destroying defilement. But if you are weak, when Path
is weak, defilement takes over, bringing grasping, illusion, and sorrow.
Suffering arises when virtues, concentration, and wisdom are weak.
Once suffering has arisen, that which could have extinguished these
sorrows has vanished. Only virtue, concentration, and wisdom can cause
Path to arise again. When these are developed, the Path starts
functioning continuously, destroying the cause for the arising of
suffering in each moment and each situation. This struggle continues
until one side conquers, and the matter can be brought to an end. Thus,
I advise practicing unceasingly.
Practice-begins here and now. Suffering and liberation, the entire Path,
are here and now. The teachings, words like virtue and wisdom, only
point to the mind. But these two elements, Path and defilement, compete
in the mind all the way to the end of the Path. Therefore, applying the
tools of practice is burdensome, difficult-you must rely on endurance,
patience, and proper effort. Then true understanding will come about on
its own.
Virtue, concentration, and wisdom together constitute the Path. But this
Path is not yet the true teaching, not what the teacher actually wanted,
but merely the Path that will take one there. For example, say you
traveled the road from Bangkok to WatBa Pong; the road was necessary for
your journey, but you were seeking the monastery, not the road. In the
same way, we can say that virtue, concentration, and wisdom are outside
the truth of the Buddha but are the road that leads to this truth. When
you have developed these three factors, the result is the most wonderful
peace. In this peace, sights or sounds have no power to disturb the
mind. There is nothing at all left to be done. Therefore, the Buddha
says to give up whatever you are holding on to, without anxiety. Then
you can know this peace for yourself and will no longer need to believe
anyone else. Ultimately, you will come to experience the Dharma of the
Noble Ones.
However, do not try to measure your development quickly. Just practice.
Otherwise, whenever the mind becomes calm, you will ask, "Is this it?"
As soon as you think like this, the whole effort is lost. There are no
signs to attest to your progress, like the one that says, "This is the
path to WatBa Pong." Just throw away all desires and expectations and
look directly at the ways of the mind.
What Is Natural?
Claiming they want their practice to be "natural," some people complain
that this way of life does not fit their nature.
Nature is the tree in the forest. But if you build a house, it is no
longer natural, is it? Yet if you learn to use the tree, making wood and
building a house, it has more value to you. Or perhaps the dog is
natural, running here and there, following its nose. Throw food to dogs
and they rush to it, fighting each other. Is that what you want to be
like?
The true meaning of natural can be discovered with our discipline and
practice. This natural is beyond our habits, our conditioning, our
fears. If the human mind is left to so-called natural impulses,
untrained, it is full of greed, hatred, and delusion and suffers
accordingly. Yet through practice we can allow our wisdom and love to
grow naturally until it blossoms in any surroundings.
Moderation
Three basic points of practice to work with are sense restraint, which
means taking care not to indulge and attach to sensations; moderation in
eating; and wakefulness.
Sense restraint. We can easily recognize physical irregularities, such
as blindness, deafness, deformed limbs, but irregularities of mind are
another matter. When you begin to meditate, you see things differently.
You can see the mental distortions that formerly seemed normal, and you
can see danger where you did not see it before. This brings sense
restraint. You become sensitive, like one who enters a forest or jungle
and becomes aware of danger from poisonous creatures, thorns, and so
forth. One with a raw wound is likewise more aware of danger from flies
and gnats. For one who meditates, the danger is from sense objects.
Sense restraint is thus necessary; in fact, it is the highest kind of
virtue.
Moderation in eating. It is easy to fast, more difficult to eat little
or in moderation as a meditation. Instead of frequent fasting, learn to
eat with mindfulness and sensitivity to your needs, learn to distinguish
needs from desires.
Pushing the body is not in itself self-torment. Going . without sleep or
without food may seem extreme at times, but it can have value. We must
be willing to
resist laziness and defilement, to stir them up and watch them. Once
these are understood, such practices are no longer necessary. This is
why we should eat, sleep, and talk little-for the purpose of opposing
our desires and making them reveal themselves.
Wakefulness. To establish awareness, effort is required constantly, not
just when you feel diligent. Even if you meditate all night at times, it
is not correct practice if at other times you still follow your
laziness. Constantly watch over the mind as a parent watches over a
child. Protect it from its own foolishness,. teach it what is right.
It is incorrect to think that at certain times you do not have the
opportunity to meditate. You must constantly make the effort to know
yourself; it is as necessary as your breathing, which continues in all
situations. If you do not like certain activities, such as . chanting or
working, and give up on them as meditation, you will never learn
wakefulness.
Rely on Yourself
The Buddha taught that those who wish to know must realize the truth for
themselves. Then it makes no difference whether .others criticize or
praise you whatever they say, you will be undisturbed. If a person has
no trust in himself, when someone calls him bad, he will feel he is bad
accordingly. What a waste of time! If people call you bad, just examine
yourself. If they are not correct, just ignore them; if they are
correct, learn from them. In either case, why get angry? If you can see
things this way, you will really be at peace. There will be nothing
wrong, there will be only Dharma. If you really use the tools the Buddha
gave us, you need never envy others. Whereas lazy people want to just
listen and believe, you will be self-sufficient, able to earn your
living by your own efforts.
To practice using only your own resources is troublesome because they
are your own. You once thought practice was difficult because you were
contending, grabbing at others' goods. Then the Buddha taught you to
work with your own, and you thought everything would be fine. Now you
find that too is difficult, so the Buddha teaches you further. If you
cling and grasp at something, it does not matter whose it is. If you
reach out and grab a fire in your neighbour's house, the fire will be
hot; if you grab a fire in your own house, that, too, will be hot. So
don't grab at anything.
This is how I practice-what is called the direct way. I do not contend
with anyone. If you bring scriptures or psychology to argue with me, I
will not argue. I will just show you cause and effect, to let you
understand the truth of practice. We must all learn to rely on
ourselves.
Don’t Imitate
We have to be aware of how people tend to imitate their teachers. They
become copies, prints, castings. It is like the story of the king's
horse trainer. The old trainer died, so the king hired a new trainer.
Unfortunately, this man limped when he walked. New and beautiful horses
were brought to him, and he trained them exquisitely-to run, to canter,
to pull carriages. But each of the new stallions developed a limp.
Finally, the king summoned the trainer, and seeing him limp as he
entered the court, he understood every thing and immediately hired a new
trainer.
As teachers, you must be aware of the force of the examples you set.
And, even more important, as students, you must not follow the image,
the outer form, of your teacher. He is pointing you back to your own
inner perfection. Take the inner wisdom as your model, and do not
imitate his limp.
Know Yourself-Know Others
Know your own mind and body, and you will know others' as well. One's
facial expressions, speech, gestures, actions, all stem from one's state
of mind. A Buddha, an enlightened being, can read these because he has
experienced and seen with wisdom the states of mind that underlie them,
just as wise older people, having passed through childhood, can
understand the ways of children. .
This self-knowledge differs from memory. An old person can be clear
inside but fuzzy in regard to external things. Book learning may be very
difficult for him, he forgets names and faces, and so on. Maybe he knows
very well that he wants a basin, but because of the weakness of his
memory, he may ask for a glass instead.
If you see states rising and falling in the mind and do not cling to the
process, letting go of both happiness and suffering, mental rebirths
become shorter and shorter. Letting go, you can even fall into hell
states without too much disturbance, because you know the impermanence
of them. Through right practice, you allow your .old karma to wear
itself out. Knowing how things arise and pass away, you can just be
aware and let them run their course. It is like having two trees: if you
fertilize and water one and do not take care of the other, there is no
question which one will grow and which one will die.
Let Others Be
Do not find fault with others. If they behave wrongly, there is no need
to make yourself suffer. If you point out to them what is correct and
they do not practice accordingly, leave it at that.
When the Buddha studied with various teachers, he realized that their
ways were lacking, but he did not disparage them. Studying with humility
and respect, he benefited from his relationship with them, yet he
realized that their systems were not complete. Still, as he had not yet
become enlightened, he did not criticize or attempt to teach them. After
he found enlightenment, he respectfully remembered those he had studied
with and wanted to share his newfound knowledge with them.
Real Love
Real love is wisdom. What most people think of as love is just an
impermanent feeling. If you have a nice taste every day, you will soon
get tired of it. In the same way, such love eventually turns into hatred
and sorrow. Such worldly happiness involves clinging and is always tied
up with suffering, which comes like the policeman following the thief.
Nevertheless, we cannot suppress nor forbid such feelings. We just
should not cling to or identify with them but should know them for what
they are. Then Dharma is present. One loves another, yet eventually the
beloved leaves or dies. To lament and think longingly, grasping after
that which has changed, is suffering, not love. When we are at one with
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