Kammatthana Practice Lp Ruesi Ling Dam Vol2

14. Sīlānussati in Full Detail

From this point on, now that all of you have taken the precepts and taken up the kammatthana, please settle your intention to cultivate concentration of mind and vipassana insight. Today's talk on cultivating concentration of mind will run from beginning to end, and will speak only briefly. The cultivation of concentration of mind according to the model of the Lord Buddha divides into two lines together: one according to the model of the 40 Kammatthana, and another according to the curriculum of the Mahasatipatthana. In particular, the Mahasatipatthana Sutta is for cultivating kammatthana toward sukkhavipassaka (dry-insight liberation) alone. As for the 40 Kammatthana, it is the formula for cultivating kammatthana comprising sukkhavipassaka, tevijjo, chalabhiñño, and paṭisambhidappatto. As for practice, may all the Buddhist congregation choose to practice according to their own disposition. Whichever way one practices, it depends on the state of mind alone.

First of all, hold truthfulness (sacca-dhamma) fixed in the heart. Sacca means sincerity of heart. Hold firm the truth that we intend to maintain concentration of mind; let the mind remain steady at the level of samadhi. The word samadhi here does not mean sleeping. It means the mind holds fast to one particular object of attention. For example, if we are to practice anapanasati kammatthana, that is, being aware of the in-and-out breath, let the mind hold only to the in-and-out breath, not letting the mind wander off to other objects. Or if we are to cultivate buddhanussati kammatthana, or any of the ten anussati, the ten asubha, the ten kasina, aharepatikulasañña, the four dhatu-vavatthana, or the four brahmavihara — whichever one it may be — let the mind hold specifically to that one alone. The state that is held as we wish is what is called the mind being in samadhi.

Now, whether we succeed well or not depends only on our sincerity of heart. When it is said that practicing kammatthana did not turn out well, it is only because the person could not find sincerity of heart in himself — it is not that there is anything difficult or hard anywhere; it is an ordinary matter. The Lord Buddha did not have to search for anything new to teach us, other than taking the ordinary things we already have and showing us how to use and practice them correctly. Especially concentration of mind — we already use it as a matter of course. For instance, we know that right now we are sitting; whatever subject we are conversing about, we converse accordingly, proceeding normally without error; whatever task we are doing, we do that task without error. This is what is called the mind being in samadhi. We —

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We know we are reading when we are reading a book; whatever work we are doing, we know we are doing that work. All this taken together means that our mind does have concentration.

But the Lord Victorious One saw that concentration of that kind is worldly (lokiya) samadhi — it is not the path to the ending of suffering. The Lord Buddha wants us to have happiness, and so has us use samadhi on the side of the wholesome mind, thinking of and holding wholesome things in the heart constantly, so that the mind remembers only the wholesome side. If the mind can hold to the wholesome alone until it becomes one-pointed (ekaggatarammana), then at the very least, when we die out of the human state we become a deva or a Brahma.

Once the mind holds samadhi well, the Lord of the Jeweled Lamp then teaches vipassana insight, beginning with the Noble Truths, having us contemplate and see the suffering that arises in body and mind because it depends on birth as its condition. Contemplate it through to knowing; let wisdom contemplate and see. As for having someone else point out what is suffering — that is not our task; we must use our own wisdom to contemplate what is suffering. Whatever it is that we must endure, that thing is entirely a manifestation of suffering.

Hunger is suffering, thirst is suffering, heat is suffering, excessive cold is suffering, sickness and discomfort is suffering, unfulfilled desire is suffering. The body has the nature of changing, of aging and growing old; the body's imperfection is also suffering; the condition of our dying is suffering. All these sufferings are present as a constant matter, but we do not try to think of them. Therefore the Blessed Lord, seeing that we are too foolish, the Lord of the Triple Knowledge taught us to know that birth itself is suffering, as in the Pali: jātipi dukkhā — birth is suffering; jarāpi dukkhā — aging is suffering; maraṇampi dukkhaṁ — death is suffering; sokaparidevadukkha-domanassupāyāsā and so on — meaning that grief and sorrow are suffering, and separation from what is loved and cherished is suffering. This means that once we are born we meet with nothing but suffering; we have no happiness, yet that suffering is present. Who is there who sees the suffering? We have become so accustomed to suffering that we no longer recognize that we are suffering. The reason we do not recognize that we are suffering is because of the condition of ignorance, called in the Pali avijjā.

Suffering that is to arise must have a cause. The Buddhist religion, the Buddha, teaches showing cause and effect as the norm; nothing is without cause or effect. The suffering that is to arise for us arises because our heart keeps company with craving (taṇhā), that is, restless wanting.

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As for the craving we think of as craving on the side of defilement, we must think it through and consider: if the body's needs are hunger, thirst, cold, or heat — if cold arises, we need something to warm us; if heat arises, we need coolness; if hunger appears, we need food; and we obtain wealth and possessions to use only enough to be adequate for use — a want of this kind is not called craving, because it is the ordinary condition by which we must nourish and sustain the body.

Excessive restless wanting, however, is craving — where, having enough to eat and use, one still scrambles about seeking more and can never find enough; not being satisfied, having desire that rises higher than sufficiency — this is the manifestation of craving, that is, seeking that only creates needless hardship. Therefore the Lord Buddha said: if anyone wishes to be free from suffering, let him try to abandon craving, that is, create contentment and let it arise; make contentment settle in the heart. Where does “enough” lie? Seeking a livelihood sufficient for one's support is counted as “enough.” As for how much quantity is held to be “enough,” that depends on one's station and necessity — not scrambling about beyond what is sufficient. This is called “enough.” When sufficiency appears, happiness of heart then arises.

As for actually cutting off craving, merely thinking “enough” — enough according to the ordinary state of things — that alone cannot be done. So the Lord of the Triple Knowledge, the Great Teacher, further taught that if we want sufficiency in life, let the mind cling to the three virtues, namely sila (precepts), samadhi (concentration), and paññā (wisdom) — what we call the Noble Eightfold Path. This Eightfold Path, when condensed, reduces to these three: sila, samadhi, paññā.

Sila keeps our body, speech, and mind pure. We will not destroy the precepts ourselves; we will not incite or encourage another person to destroy the precepts; and when we see another person destroy the precepts, we do not take delight in it. This manner is the conduct and mental disposition of the Noble Ones (ariya); we must act accordingly, keeping the mind holding to the precepts as a normal state, guarding the precepts as a matter of course, until we no longer need to guard them — letting the mind do it automatically, the mind holding the precepts at all times, such that even the slightest lapse of the precepts never occurs to the heart. This the Lord of the Triple Knowledge, the Great Teacher, calls sīlānussati-kammaṭṭhāna. If we have pure precepts, we can close off the states of loss (apāya-bhūmi); it is one of the conditions of the Stream-Enterer (Sotāpanna).

As for our keeping the precepts pure, it must rely on the state of concentration of mind as the controlling instrument. Thus, if our state of mind can hold the precepts at all times, guarding the precepts as a matter of course, that shows that —

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Our mind already has samadhi — samadhi means the act of settling one's intention (if we speak in plain Thai), because we intend to keep the precepts as a matter of course.

As for precepts, when do we keep them? Taking the formal precept-vow is only a matter of studying the precepts. If we have no occasion to take the vow, can it still be a precept?

On this point, should any of the Buddhist congregation have doubt, know this: whether we formally take the precept-vow or not has no significance in itself. What matters is only the abstention — that alone is what makes it a precept. If we have no occasion to take the vow, yet we can fully restrain ourselves according to the eight training rules, or the five training rules, then even without ever taking the vow it is still a precept, and it carries the same merit as if we had taken it. Conversely, even if we took the precept-vow a thousand times a day, if our heart is not bound to the precepts, no benefit arises at all — the precept has no hold on our heart.

Therefore, for us to be able to restrain craving, the first requirement is to be one of pure precepts — that is, to have the mind holding the precepts as an ordinary, constant state, not merely by sitting cross-legged with eyes closed, or sitting in meditation, that one becomes pure in precepts. If we think that pure precepts means only this much, we can certainly expect to die and fall into hell. In one day there are 24 hours — how many minutes do we keep the mind pure? We must measure the time that passes: how much do we lose, and how much do we gain? Counting the time we practice — if we use our mind to practice goodness for only a little time but lose a great deal otherwise, there is no way to reach heaven or even to be reborn human. Therefore the Lord of the Triple Knowledge teaches us to hold samadhi on the side of sīlānussati-kammaṭṭhāna — that is, to have our heart hold the precepts as its constant object. It is not a matter of sitting with eyes closed for 9 or 10 hours a day — that has no meaning. What matters is that with every in-breath and out-breath, our mind holds to the precepts. This alone is what is called samadhi with a certain result, called sīlānussati-kammaṭṭhāna. This concerns the aspect of precepts for restraining body, speech, and mind — the cause for closing off the states of loss, on the level of the sense-sphere heavens (kāmāvacara). If we can hold our precepts pure, we can become a deva in the sense-sphere heavens.

Further, the goodness that goes even beyond that is having the Brahma world as one's destination. If we wish to go to the Brahma world, we take this very precept-keeping as our samadhi to reach the Brahma world — intending to hold the precepts as samadhi, to attain jhana. Our precepts become concentration of mind on the side of sīlānussati-kammaṭṭhāna reaching the level of jhana. How is it done? And how would we know that our precepts have reached the level of jhana?

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This we can observe: throughout the whole day our mind dwells in the precepts as a constant state, guarding the precepts as a matter of course. The five perils (pañca-vera) are: killing or harming living beings, stealing others' property, seizing another's beloved, lying and deceiving, and drinking intoxicants — these are called the five perils. Holding to this we manage with ease: no matter how much anyone slanders or speaks ill of us, or makes disturbing noise, our heart is not annoyed by that person's voice, is not shaken by slander or abuse, nor delighted by any praise — the heart's state remains comfortable, resting in precepts. This is what is called: your concentration of mind has entered the condition of jhana. This is the kind of jhana that is wanted — not wanting to sit in jhana or cross-legged meditation from dawn to dusk, and then, upon opening one's eyes, cursing and shouting at everyone. Doing that for a hundred thousand years brings no benefit. The Lord Buddha has the mind hold samadhi as its object every single day — that is, our heart abides in the condition of precepts, not getting entangled with what is unwholesome, until one's own mind becomes ekaggatārammaṇa, one-pointed, resting in precepts specifically. Whoever invites us anywhere, whatever they suggest, if it is something that would destroy the precepts, we take no delight in it, we do not go along with it. This is what is called our precepts being held as jhana. Bringing precepts in to become jhana — there is really nothing difficult about it; it is an easy thing. Holding concentration of mind, if we know how to use it properly, then even keeping just a single precept can take us to Nibbana.

When our concentration of mind holds the precepts as jhana, with the heart bound firmly to the precepts as a normal state, wherever we go, in whatever place, in whatever society, we will absolutely refuse to violate the precepts, will not incite or encourage anyone to violate the precepts, and will not take delight when another person destroys the precepts. Our heart having such freshness and satisfaction in the precepts is jhana. If the state of mind is jhana, when we die out of the human state we are reborn as a Brahma. This is the second level of goodness.

Now, we take this very sīlānussati-kammaṭṭhāna onward as vipassana insight. We come to contemplate our body, thus:

At this moment, we are one who holds the precepts.

Then let us know the word “we” — who is “we”?

Is this flesh and blood, this body of ours, actually “us” — or who are we?

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When we truly consider this through, we see that this flesh and blood body is not us, is not ours; we are not present in the flesh and blood body, and the flesh and blood body is not us. What we truly are is the mind that comes to dwell temporarily in the body. The body has the nature of a rented house occupied only for a while; we cannot hold the body forever, for all time. The body has arising in its beginning, has decay in its middle, and has dissolution in the end.

As for holding the precepts — what is it that holds the precepts? Does the body hold the precepts, or does the mind hold the precepts?

When we truly consider this, we see that the precepts are able to be maintained only because the mind alone is what commands. The body has the nature of a puppet; it has no sense of responsibility of any kind at all. Any sense of responsibility, any good or evil that manifests through the body, depends on the heart as the one who commands. The word “we” here refers to the mind — that is, the heart, the disposition that commands the body.

Let us look and see: we keep the precepts pure, our mind is at ease — but is the body at ease?

A person of pure precepts has an easy heart and no trouble. A person who has trouble has it because his mind is unvirtuous, cannot find precepts, and so has nothing but trouble — the body cannot rest at ease, likes to use the body to create suffering, to oppress others, to use the body to seize the property of others, to use the body to seize the beloved of others, and moreover has a bad mouth — likes to lie, to speak divisively, to speak coarsely, to babble nonsense of no benefit, does not know the cause of suffering, and uses the body to drink intoxicants.

So, a person who does not respect the precepts has suffering. This wretched type of person usually cannot see in himself that he has created evil; even being utterly wretched, he never has the sense of it in himself. So understand this: if we can maintain the precepts, we have happiness; no suffering comes to mix in. Therefore, may all Buddhist followers who wish to have happiness please keep the precepts as a matter of course.

As for keeping the precepts as a matter of course, this relies importantly on the strength of the heart. It is not the body that keeps the precepts — the heart keeps the precepts. As the sermons say, holding precepts keeps body and speech in order as two matters — that is not actually the truth. In truth, precepts actually keep the mind in order; once the mind is in order, the body is also in order, according to what the Buddha declared: “Manopubbaṅgamā dhammā, manoseṭṭhā —

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manomayā — all phenomena have mind as their forerunner, have mind as their chief, are accomplished by mind.” This shows that if our mind is pure, body and speech are also pure; whatever wickedness arises from body and speech arises because our mind is wicked. If we bring the precepts in to control the mind, the mind then becomes good, and body and speech become good too. A person with a bad mouth, bad speech, a wicked body, has these because the mind is wicked; wherever such a person is, there is nothing but suffering, and happiness cannot be found.

Let us go on considering: is this body of ours actually us? Is it ours? It is not us, it is not ours — as the Buddha said, this physical body is not us, is not ours; we are not present in the body, the body is not present in us; we are the mind. This is what the Lord of the Dhamma himself taught. We use wisdom to consider accordingly. He said that if a person has built up goodness, made his mental state good, then when he dies out of the human state he goes to be reborn in heaven, or as a Brahma, or to Nibbana. If he has built up evil, then when he dies out of the human state he goes to be reborn as a hell-being, or a hungry ghost (peta), or an asura, or an animal. If reborn human, he is a human of wicked, degraded character, having nothing but trouble.

Let us sit and consider: at the time we go to hell, or go to heaven, or go to the Brahma world — do we take the body along with us or not? At the time of death, no one carries the body along. Here we can see that this body is not us, is not ours; we are not present in the body, the body is not present in us. So we make our precepts pure, hold concentration of mind under the power of the precepts, control the precepts so they become jhana, and then consider according to the Dhamma teaching of the Lord Conqueror of Māra:

The cause of suffering that is able to arise

is due to craving having attachment to the body, which is not us, is not ours.

We grasp it as being us, as being ours.

We therefore lay the body down for the sake of Nibbana.

Going to Nibbana here cuts only the single fetter of sakkāyadiṭṭhi (self-view). Among the ten fetters (saṃyojana), the Lord Conqueror of Māra did not cut anywhere else — the single fetter cut is sakkāyadiṭṭhi, the very first fetter. Once the heart is no longer attached to the body, we are unattached to everything else as well, because among all the possessions in the world, there is nothing we could love more than our own body. This the Lord Victorious One —

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points out the reason to know: if our body were not to exist, of what benefit would houses, dwellings, buildings, and all possessions be to us? They have some value only for the time we hold this body. Once we have died, the matter is entirely finished; all possessions then pass down to become the property of others. Therefore, if we can cut off the body, we can cut off everything else as well.

The method of contemplating to cut off the body

We must rely on kāyagatāsati-kammaṭṭhāna, asubha-kammaṭṭhāna, maraṇassati-kammaṭṭhāna, āhāre-paṭikūla-saññā, the four dhātu-vavatthāna, and so on, with maraṇassati-kammaṭṭhāna as the foundation. Keep the heart thinking constantly:

We must die.

Death is an ordinary matter. We had arising in the beginning, and we will have death in the end.

The fact that we hold onto life now is not that we are holding life to escape death,

but we hold it in order to walk toward death.

Contemplate and see that

this death is an ordinary thing that we must inevitably reach.

While we hold this life, it is entirely full of suffering.

If we want to be born again, it must be this same kind of suffering.

What benefit would there be in being born again?

We want to cut off birth, that is, to cut off life and body.

Do not be intoxicated with life; think instead that the body is composed of the four elements, namely

earth, water, wind, and fire — it is a temporary dwelling-house borrowed for a while,

it is a domain of suffering,

it is rogha-nīḍaṃ, that is, a nest of disease,

pabhaṅguṇaṃ — it must inevitably decay and rot, as an ordinary matter.

But if we are born again, it will have this same condition once more — why should we be born?

There is a land where we need not be born again — that is Nibbana.

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How is it that we can reach Nibbana?

We cut off the five khandha, that is, we throw the body away. The word “cut off” here does not mean to kill the five khandha; it means keeping constantly in mind that

this body is aniccaṃ, an impermanent thing;

dukkhaṃ, full of suffering;

anattā, it will dissolve in the end.

We were born because of the power of ignorance as our condition.

At this time we have come to meet the religion of the Lord of the Triple Knowledge, the Great Teacher of wisdom.

The Lord Protector of the World teaches us to know cause and effect —

that this birth the Lord of the Ten Powers regards as suffering.

We will find happiness only by cutting off the cause and cutting off the condition, that is, by managing to cut off birth itself.

What is it that we depend on as the condition by which we are not to be born again?

It is, firstly, defilement (kilesa) — we must find the way to eliminate defilement entirely.

There are three defilements: greed (lobha), hatred (dosa), and delusion (moha). Greed is wanting beyond what is sufficient; holding the state of anger beyond what is fitting is dosa; moha is delusion, thinking that this is “us,” this is “ours.” We cut off greed by giving alms (dāna); we cut off hatred by holding the four brahmavihāra; as for this delusion, we accept and pay respect to the law of the ordinary (dhammadā).

What is it that is ordinary?

Arising is ordinary.

Aging is ordinary.

Sickness and discomfort is ordinary.

Death is ordinary.

Accept and pay respect to it — whatever condition arises, we are not shaken by it, holding that this is merely an ordinary matter.

Then think further that this “ordinary” is itself a manifestation of suffering, not a manifestation of happiness; we no longer keep company with it. When our heart can hold to this, seeing that everything whatsoever is an ordinary matter —

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As for encountering harsh speech, or being mocked or maligned by other people, our state of mind is not shaken; we think that we hold this body for so short a time — whenever our body breaks apart, that is when we reach Nibbana. Our heart is no longer attached to the five khandha, that is, to the body. That much alone, fellow Buddhist followers, because we already have as our original foundation pure precepts, our heart holds respect for the Lord of the Jeweled Lamp, has the wisdom to see that the body is not us, is not ours, we are not present in the body, the body is not present in us, the body is a source of suffering, we no longer want this body again. We are firm in the teaching of the Lord Buddha, because we refuse to depart from the precepts, we refuse to violate the precepts — especially since, for these precepts, speech is of great importance. Whatever speech we utter must be guarded carefully; bodily action must likewise be guarded carefully. Nisammakaraṇaṃ seyyo — the Lord Buddha said: before acting, before speaking, one should reflect carefully first. Do not go about thinking that other people are wicked — seeing others as wicked only becomes a way of creating wickedness in our own heart. Attanā codayattānaṃ — the Lord Buddha teaches us to accuse and blame ourselves constantly as being wicked; search for the point of wickedness in the body, search for the point of wickedness in the mind; do not go searching for the point of goodness. Wherever a point of wickedness is found, destroy that point of wickedness completely, and goodness will then manifest of itself.

If our heart holds this kind of watchfulness, and then believes the Lord Victorious One, that

the body is aniccaṃ, impermanent; dukkhaṃ, suffering; anattā, it dissolves away;

and the heart is not attached to the body;

we have pure precepts;

we have a heart with love for Nibbana as its object —

this condition the Lord Buddha calls Sotāpanna (Stream-Enterer). There is really nothing difficult about this. The word Sotāpanna is merely the state of being a fine, decent layperson. Being a Sotāpanna has only a modest, jar-sized measure of goodness. If we cannot even manage that, then we are utterly wretched indeed. I hope that all the Buddhist followers who have listened to this will understand well that being a Sotāpanna is only a small portion of Dhamma — one who has entered the stream of the Lord Buddha's true teaching, only just reaching the stream toward Nibbana, still far from it. Yet this Sotāpanna state cannot be said to be too far from Nibbana either.

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If our state of mind is still too light, our heart not yet firmly settled, we will still be born as a human seven more times before we attain arahantship. If the hearts of the Buddhist followers have moderate firmness, we will be born three more times and attain arahantship. If the hearts of the Buddhist followers have complete, intimate firmness, we will be born as a human only one more time and attain arahantship, reaching Nibbana.

This means that for all Buddhist followers whose resolve is still weak, who have not yet reached the Dhamma of the Great Teacher — that is, the state of Sotāpanna — please make the determined intention to hold your mind to attain the state of Sotāpanna. If we are unable to hold to the state of Sotāpanna, it is as if we were born wasting the birth that met with the Buddhist religion, unable to hold even the small measure of goodness that the Lord Buddha, the Great Teacher, has bestowed — and that would be a pity, a waste of our own goodness.

Well then, all you Buddhist followers, the time for speaking now has already gone on too long. From this point on, may all you Buddhist followers try to hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, be aware of the in- and out-breath. When breathing in, know that you are breathing in; when breathing out, know that you are breathing out. Then use a recitation word paired along with it: on the in-breath think “Phut,” on the out-breath think “Tho.” Once the heart is at ease, all of you may go on to contemplate whichever kammatthana subject you wish, proceeding according to your own disposition until you hear the signal announcing that the time is up.

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19. Buddhānussati as Vipassana

Today I will continue speaking on the topic of Buddhānussati, because Buddhānussati, as already explained, we classify into four levels together, namely:

First, contemplation according to the standard form, that is, contemplating the goodness of the Buddha by using the words itipi so bhagavā arahaṃ sammāsambuddho and so on, using the mind to reflect on the aspect of his conduct, generating faith, generating an attachment of heart toward the Buddha. Practicing this way, the result attainable is only up to access concentration (upacāra-samādhi).

If we wish to make Buddhānussati-kammaṭṭhāna into jhāna-samāpatti, the teachers instruct us to fix upon the image of whichever Buddha statue we find pleasing; while reciting “Buddho” or “Arahaṃ,” bring the mind to recall that image as the object. Practicing this way is considered taking the image of the Buddha statue as a kasiṇa. Practicing in this manner one is able to attain up to the fourth jhāna, classified as rūpa-jhāna (form jhāna).

If one wishes to make Buddhānussati into arūpa-jhāna, the eight attainments, one fixes on that Buddha image holding the mental state until reaching the fourth jhāna; once the mind is well settled and at ease, one then discards that kasiṇa image, that is, withdraws the image from the mind, and contemplates the space-consciousness, the total absence of anything, and then perception or the absence of perception — what is called ākāsānañcāyatana, viññāṇañcāyatana, ākiñcaññāyatana, nevasaññānāsaññāyatana — that is, not regarding form as important, not wanting form, wanting only the mental (nāma) side alone, because those who practice this way do so out of aversion to form, holding that form is the condition that brings about suffering, and in the next birth do not want form again; and this is samatha-bhāvanā classified as arūpa-jhāna.

At this level, we want to use Buddhānussati-kammaṭṭhāna as vipassanā insight. The teachers have us set our state of mind holding the image of the Buddha statue as the object, making the image appear clearly with the mind in samadhi up to the fourth jhāna, and then we are able to make that image small, or make it large, and make it disappear, according to our wish; make that image appear, or make it disappear, alternating back and forth like this; then fix on that image as the object and contemplate that this form and appearance of the Lord Buddha — in truth the Buddha was an extraordinary human being, the most excellent of humans, a human of wondrous nature, with no other person his equal — yet the form and appearance —

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of the Lord Buddha during the time he lived also had arising in its beginning, had change in its middle, and had dissolution in the end. Even though he was more excellent than humans, devas, or Brahmas, he still could not hold the five khandha to remain forever, for all time. Once arisen, there was decay in the middle, and dissolution in the end.

Now let us sit and look at ourselves, considering that the Buddha was better than us by many millions of times; our own goodness cannot match even one drop of his many millions of measures. Given that the five khandha of the Lord of the Triple Knowledge, the Great Teacher, could not be maintained, how could ours — whose goodness does not even approach a fraction of the five khandha — be maintained? It too must have arising, and dissolution in the end all the same; and while it is maintained it is entirely full of the power of suffering. Seeing here that the five khandha of the Buddha have no permanence, we then come to compare this with our own five khandha.

As the Buddha said: these five khandha are not us, are not ours; we are not present within the five khandha, the five khandha are not present within us. The five khandha, that is, the body, is composed of the four elements — water, earth, wind, fire — it holds together as a body only temporarily and then dissolves in the end. When its dissolution appears, if our defilements are not yet exhausted, we must go on being reborn to seek out suffering again. When we die anew with defilements not yet exhausted, we must be reborn again, so that suffering arises endlessly without limit. This can be compared to the form and appearance of the Lord Buddha that we raised up as a kasiṇa: if we want that form to appear, it appears; if we want it to disappear, to dissolve — yet its dissolving does not mean it dissolves completely, for if we want this image to appear again, it comes back and appears as before, alternating back and forth like this. The image's disappearing is regarded as the condition of anattā — we cannot control it; and the image while it remains is regarded as attā, as existing, but only as a temporary attā; afterward it becomes anattā, that is, it dissolves.

Now let us sit and contemplate our own body, of which the Buddha said: jātipi dukkhā — birth is suffering; jarāpi dukkhā — aging is suffering; maraṇampi dukkhaṃ — death is suffering; soka-parideva-dukkha-domanassa and so on — separation from what is loved and cherished is suffering. This means that everything about our being born is entirely full of suffering; no happiness whatsoever can be found. Given that our own body has no happiness, the Buddha's own body likewise had no happiness, since the five khandha are the condition that brings about —

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that suffering. Just as, looking at the example of the Buddha's own form and appearance, it could not maintain itself forever, so too our body, entirely full of suffering, cannot maintain itself either. It has arising, then decay, and dissolution in the end. While the body is maintained it is entirely full of suffering; the body is entirely full of filth — there is sweat, there is grime, there is feces and urine, blood, lymph, and pus filling the whole body; there is nothing lovable about it, nothing admirable about it, only things that are repulsive. Therefore, once we die this time, if we must be born again, we will have to go on carrying new suffering.

What should we do so as not to go on carrying suffering?

The Lord of the Triple Knowledge, the Great Teacher, the Buddha, teaches us to abandon the ten fetters (saṃyojana), relying on the original fetter of sakkāyadiṭṭhi as the point of practice, that is, as the thing to be cut. We take this to contemplate the body: this physical body is not us, is not ours; we are not present in the body, the body is not present in us; having arisen, it must certainly die. As long as this cycle of being born and then dying exists, for that long we are still not free of suffering. Therefore the five khandha, full of filth, the five khandha, full of uncertainty — this we do not want. What we do want is Nibbana alone.

As for our being able to want Nibbana, how must we go on to practice?

Given that we see that the five khandha are not us, are not ours — the Buddha declared that birth is suffering, and we believe him; jarāpi dukkhā, aging is suffering, we believe him; maraṇampi dukkhaṃ, when death arrives it is suffering, we believe him along with the actual truth of it, because in dying the body must be crushed under heavy strain, must undergo heavy painful feeling, before it can die. The Buddha's teaching is the truth; we have no doubt in the Buddha's teaching.

Then further we intend to hold fast to pure precepts. If we can hold to the precepts, this is called cutting off the four states of loss — hell, the realm of hungry ghosts, the asura realm, and the animal realm, and so on. Laypeople intend to hold the five precepts pure; novices hold the ten precepts pure; monks hold the two hundred and twenty-seven precepts pure.

Then we sit and contemplate the body: it is not us, it is not ours; it grows older every day, it breaks down every day, before long it will dissolve. Cut off intoxication with the body — this is considered reaching the first level of goodness. Cutting off these three fetters is classified as attaining Sotāpanna. This much is now the foundation already laid.

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Next, raise the mind higher still, because it must still be born again — this is the Sotāpanna level. We then consider the body as a foundation of foulness (asubha-kammaṭṭhāna) — whether it is our own body or someone else's body.

First, contemplate it as the body-mindfulness foundation (kāyagatāsati-kammaṭṭhāna): this body is made of pieces and segments, it is not one solid block; inside it is hollow, filled with various organs.

Bend the body-mindfulness foundation toward the foulness foundation — see that this bodily form is full of filth and foulness, containing feces, urine, blood, lymph, pus and so on inside. Use wisdom to see that our whole body has the nature of a moving corpse, or a moving latrine. It is full of filth, with nothing lovable about it.

Having contemplated the foulness aspect, take up body-mindfulness again and consider further: our body and other people's bodies alike have the same nature — they are equally filthy. Why should we cling to this body as "us" or "ours"? Because besides being filthy, it is also full of suffering; old age comes and overwhelms it, and in the end death comes. Contemplating this way, little by little, wisdom will arise — the knowledge of disenchantment (nibbidā-ñāṇa) will arise, that is, disenchantment, seeing that the five aggregates — the body — have no essence, no substance, are not something to be desired by us.

When the knowledge of disenchantment has arisen, continue contemplating so the mind reaches the knowledge of equanimity toward formations (saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa):

– Cold and heat appear; contact from speech, whether pleasing or displeasing, appears — the mind's response is the feeling that this is just natural, nothing here is suffering.

– Sickness and discomfort arise — regard this as simply its duty, the burden of the five aggregates; the body must get sick.

– Deterioration occurs — regard it as an ordinary matter; once there is birth, there is aging in the end.

– When the contact of various slanders and abuse arises, think that people born into this world have nothing lasting or stable, nothing that can be found to remain firm — even words used to attack and offend are classed as ordinary worldly things (lokadhamma), the natural way of those born into the world.

– Make the mind see that everything whatsoever is an ordinary matter.

When cursed, the mind stays at ease; when sickness and discomfort arise, the mind stays at ease; when contact with disagreeable feelings arises, the mind stays at ease; when praised, one is not swayed by the praise either.

– One can cut off the emotion of anger.

– One can cut off the suffering that is clinging to the five aggregates.

This is called being an Anāgāmī (Non-returner).

Because contemplating the body as foulness cuts off desire and delight in forms, sounds, smells, tastes and touch, until even the sense of gender/sex disappears. One accepts and respects the ordinariness of the world — whoever curses, it's ordinary; whoever speaks ill, it's ordinary; whoever mocks, it's an ordinary matter; the mind is not shaken, the mind does not flinch, meaning there's no heaviness of heart, no hurt feelings — one holds that this is simply the ordinary nature of those born into the world. This is called having cut off aversion, having an attitude that accepts and respects the ordinary. When we can cut off both hatred and sensual lust, this is called an Anāgāmī. Why is this so? Because we take recollection of the Buddha (buddhānussati) as the object, as the basis — that is, the kasiṇa — and then contemplate the body of the Buddha, our own body, the bodies of villagers, comparing them all: none holds its form, all decline, all disintegrate in the end. Why sit and cherish beauty and loveliness, which is full of deception? There is no benefit in letting the mind be shaken by the vagaries of the world (lokadhamma), because the body does not hold its form for long, and then it collapses.

When we can restrain the mind's emotions to accept and respect the ordinary in every way, this is called being an Anāgāmī — almost an Arahant already. In this state, after death one need not be born again — need not return to be born as a human, a deva, or a Brahma, and then attains Nibbāna there.

Next we want to bring the mind to the state of Arahantship, so we contemplate the virtue of the Buddha. The Buddha studied in the schools of two teachers — Āḷāra Kālāma and Uddaka Rāmaputta — and attained the four jhānas, that is, form-jhāna and formless-jhāna. Form-jhāna and formless-jhāna are conditions leading to goodness, that is, a firmly established mind. But the Blessed One, the Great Teacher, saw that this was not yet the end of suffering, the task not yet finished, not yet reaching the liberating Dhamma, the Dhamma that is the means of escape from death — not yet, not yet reached. We hold the conduct of the Buddha as important: our emotional state on reaching Anāgāmī still has suffering, meaning it still has an important attachment — seeing form-jhāna as good, formless-jhāna as good — still has a fair amount of conceit and self-regard, still has restlessness (uddhacca), a distracted mind, some remaining ignorance still clinging.

The Great Teacher said: if we wish to cut off ignorance completely, we should reflect and find the truth that form-jhāna and formless-jhāna, both of these, are merely a ladder-step toward Nibbāna, not themselves the state that reaches Nibbāna. But these two, form-jhāna and formless-jhāna, we must still hold onto in order to dwell in happiness, so the mind does not become distracted — yet we do not yet see them as the end; that is, form-jhāna and formless-jhāna are not yet the end of suffering. We must continue the journey, therefore cut off the attachment — not intoxicated by form-jhāna and formless-jhāna, but keeping them only for the benefit of the mind.

Having maintained the jhāna as normal, use wisdom to contemplate the five aggregates: that they are not us, not ours; we are not within the five aggregates, the five aggregates are not within us; the five aggregates are full of suffering; the five aggregates disintegrate in the end; nothing about them is of benefit. Since the five aggregates do not hold their form like this, what use is there in sitting with conceit, holding ourselves as better than others, equal to others, worse than others? Because everyone's body has the same four elements, is equally full of filth, equally subject to decline, and equally disintegrates in the end. People and animals are of the same nature — arising at the beginning, aging in the middle, and disintegrating in the end. This yields no benefit in sitting there intoxicated with self-conceit or self-regard. Set aside the attitude of self-conceit and self-regard; establish loving-kindness (mettā-pāramī) as the foundation; see all people and animals — hold that everyone has suffering, everyone must eventually die — so why sit holding to conceit of equal, worse, or better? Because no one at all actually has a body that is "self" or "belonging to

of theirs" — the body is truly nothing more than a temporary rented house. If we can maintain this attitude, we will be able to cut off conceit, that is, self-regard.

Next remains restlessness (uddhacca), that is, distraction. The Anāgāmī still has a fitting degree of distraction, but the Anāgāmī's distracted state of mind does not tend toward the unwholesome, because from the Sotāpanna stage onward, unwholesome states of mind do not occur in one who has attained the state of a Noble One; there remains only wholesome states of mind. When it is said the Anāgāmī still has a distracted state of mind, this means he is still content in the practice of giving (dāna), seeing giving as good, content in keeping precepts, content in helping others through the bases of sympathy (saṅgahavatthu). Sometimes the mind still wanders left and right, not yet cutting straight through entirely; it still sees that this bodily existence is sometimes still useful — that is, sometimes still seeing the body as something good; on some occasions still seeing that property, the things we own and have earned, are good things. But even so, his mind never forgets that he must die, must be separated from what is loved and liked. It's true there's no agitation, but the mind still has some attachment clinging appropriately — this is called the distracted state of the Anāgāmī.

To cut off this distracted state, one must cut at the root of personality-view (sakkāya-diṭṭhi) — contemplate the body: since our body will collapse, what in this world could still be ours? None can be found. If we die, we cannot carry it with us. If it were truly us, truly ours, we would be able to carry it along. Look at the example of the body of the Great Teacher, the Lord of the Three Worlds: when he attained final Nibbāna — while alive, the Jewel Lamp Lord had great wealth, villagers brought offerings of incalculable value; but when the Lord of the Three Worlds attained final Nibbāna, not even a single robe could be taken along; the body was left to lie upon the earth. Just as this is an example, so are we the same. Why should we sit distracted, grasping this and that? The mind can then be released from it.

Having progressed to this point, the Lord of the Three Worlds said: there remains one more ignorance. This ignorance consists of desire (chanda) and lust (rāga).

Chanda is still seeing the human world as good, the deva world as good, the Brahma world as good.

Rāga is seeing the human world as beautiful and lovely, the deva world as beautiful, the Brahma world as beautiful.

We then sit and cut off both chanda and rāga, contemplating to find the truth that, since our body will collapse, what use is the beauty of human existence, whether in the human world, the deva world, or the Brahma world, given that we ourselves cannot maintain our own form? There is no benefit at all. Therefore, being born as a human, a deva, or a Brahma is not something we desire. We want only one thing: Nibbāna. Take hold of the mind, fix the point exclusively on the object of Nibbāna alone.

Then step back and examine the true state of our own mind: do we still have greed right now, that is, intoxicated with gain and honor? Do we still hold that anything is "us" or "ours"? If there is still anything, then it is still unusable — not yet an Arahant. If we see that this body, this bodily existence, is not us, not ours, then the property we possess is likewise not us, not ours; it cannot hold its form; when we die we cannot take it along. Sometimes, even before we die, while still alive, we must be separated from what is loved and liked — that is, the things we want all disintegrate; nothing appears able to remain permanently for all time. Thus we see that birth, aging, sickness, and death are not good things. Being born as a human, a deva, or a Brahma — we have no desire for it. All three worlds are equally without-self (anattā), arising at the beginning and disintegrating in the end. In the end we take Nibbāna alone as our object:

– Having supreme desire specifically for Nibbāna alone.

– No emotion of sexual love remains.

– No emotion of anger remains.

– No clinging to anything as "me" or "mine" remains.

This is called the mind of the Buddhist faithful reaching the fruit of Arahantship, the highest Noble Person in the Buddhist religion. This concludes here.

As for cultivating any one kammaṭṭhāna, especially the recollection-of-the-Buddha kammaṭṭhāna, we can do all of it — from the level of access concentration (upacāra-samādhi), that is, the initial mode of contemplation. If contemplating by taking hold of form, we can attain up to the fourth jhāna; then, letting go of form, contemplating the formless, attaining the four jhānas again, this becomes the eight attainments (samāpatti). Then take up the bodily image of the Fully Enlightened Buddha, [seeing that it] had

transformation and change in the middle, and finally aging, and disintegrated at the last stage — regard it as having no substance, no essence, no lasting permanent nature of any kind. Comparing this with our own body in this way is insight-knowledge (vipassanā-ñāṇa). This, all you members of the Buddhist assembly, is how every kammaṭṭhāna we can practice up to the level of access concentration — on the side of form-jhāna and formless-jhāna, and insight-knowledge — can all be done. An example is when the Blessed Well-Gone One taught the blood-kasiṇa to the goldsmith's son; with that alone he was able to attain jhāna. The Jewel Lamp Lord then took that same blood-kasiṇa and turned it into insight-knowledge, and in the end that monk attained the fruit of Arahantship.

Well then, all you members of the Buddhist assembly, the time for speaking has already run long. From this point on, may all you members of the Buddhist assembly try to hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in-breath and out-breath, use the recitation formula and contemplate as you see fit until you hear the signal marking the end of time.

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20. Answering Questions of Doubt

On this occasion, all you members of the Buddhist assembly have together undertaken the precepts and undertaken the meditation practice. From here on is the occasion for all you members of the Buddhist assembly to cultivate the meditation practice and insight meditation. Please have everyone hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, and note the in-breath and out-breath. When breathing in, know that you are breathing in; when breathing out, know that you are breathing out. When breathing in, think "Bud"; when breathing out, think "dho." Noting the in-breath and out-breath together with the recitation is the foundational basis for the practice of meditation.

To cultivate meditation well, one must know how to conquer one's own mind. One must know for oneself what task is to be done right now and keep one's intention focused specifically on it; only then will that effort bear fruit in the cultivation of meditation. This is a question specific to today that someone asked: how does one control the power of the mind so it becomes concentrated, and how does one bring the mind to abide in the jhāna attainments? In truth, making the mind concentrated or bringing the mind into jhāna attainment is not difficult, if we are not a person of a fickle, scattered mind — if we are a person with a firmly established emotional state of mind, who knows the task that must be done. The reason cultivating meditation does not succeed is that we do not know the task, do not know the duty to be performed; being a person devoid of mindfulness and clear comprehension, not knowing how to control one's own mental strength, one cannot succeed. Whether we turn out good or bad depends on ourselves alone; no one else will come and flatter us into being good or bad. Even the Buddha himself said: "akkhātāro tathāgatā" — Tathāgatas are only those who point the way. As for the goodness or evil that we will attain, we ourselves specifically must be the ones who act.

When one listens to the teachings of the Fully Enlightened Buddha, those who can practice well do so because they take it and put it into practice. At the time of listening, one reflects along with the flow of the true Dhamma teaching that the Fully Enlightened Buddha speaks; when the Buddha speaks, one uses wisdom to think along with it.

Those who will attain good practice in this way: while listening, and while intent on maintaining mental concentration, they do not let their attention scatter toward other objects; they know how to control their mind to stay specifically on the task to be done, that is, noting the in-breath and out-breath and the recitation. When we know the task in this way, while we maintain concentration and intend to hold to goodness, we force the mind to know only the in-breath and out-breath — in-breath thinking "Bud," out-breath thinking "dho."

This is controlling the [mind's] power only to this extent, for the length of time we have set. We will not allow our emotional mind to go toward any object other than the in- and out-breath or the recitation "Buddho." If we can control our mind like this every single time we cultivate meditation — whether we use a long time or a short time, or whether during free moments from other duties we are sitting, standing, lying down, or working — with the mind free of other objects to think about, and the mind holding onto the in-and-out breath and the word "Buddho" as normal, until the mind becomes accustomed to this state, our mind becomes jhāna. Or, during free time from other tasks, the mind holds the word "Buddho" as its object, or fixes on knowing the in- and out-breath like this — this is called jhāna.

But practitioners of meditation who fail to succeed do so because they let their minds consort with various bad states — that is, the whole day is not inclined toward goodness, but looks only at evil; they like to let the mind consort with states of evil, and like to bring their attention meddling into other people's affairs — that person is good like that, this person is bad like this, this person is like this, that person is like that — without looking at themselves. Bringing one's mental state into the conduct of other people's minds is a bad state of mind.

A good state of mind must be one that controls one's own emotions, one's own mental strength, controls one's own feelings, [knowing] whether at this moment our state of mind is wholesome or unwholesome — for instance, we resolve in our heart: we will hold to the in- and out-breath, we will fix the recitation "Buddho," breathing in thinking "Bud," breathing out thinking "dho." Can we maintain this control throughout the whole day or not? A state like this is a wholesome state of mind. Controlling the mental strength, knowing the in-breath and out-breath, knowing the recitation "Buddho" — if in one day you can maintain it for 20 minutes, or 10 minutes, or 5 minutes per single session, this much alone, if done as a regular practice every day —

After death, one can go to heaven.

Freed from the states of loss — this is a good deed that helps ourselves, one we should be careful to maintain. And a person who can control the mental strength like this — while alive, their emotional state is happy, with no agitation, no turmoil of mind, because the mind abides in a wholesome state. We should practice to achieve this: conquering the mind, making the mind conquer evil.

What benefit do we cultivate meditation for? There are two kinds of kammaṭṭhāna: samatha-bhāvanā and vipassanā-bhāvanā. Samatha-bhāvanā means a method that is a means of calming the mind, making the mind calm

away from unwholesome states, that is, evil, meaning guarding against evil so it cannot enter the mind. Our mind will absolutely refuse to think of any kind of evil whatsoever. Evil is a condition leading to hell; besides falling to hell, one then becomes a hungry ghost, a demon, an animal; even if born a human, one cannot succeed at goodness. The reason the Buddha taught us to cultivate meditation is to give us mindfulness and clear comprehension, fixed specifically on the abbreviated good already mentioned, that is, the word "Buddho" or noting the in- and out-breath. If we can maintain this for all time, at the very least we become a deva; at best, better than that, we are reborn as a Brahma — better than being a human stumbling and falling in the present age. In our present emotional state while alive, our state of mind has happiness, good memory, cleverness, is bold and joyful in doing good, free from the mind's gloom — all this due to the merit-power of the Fully Enlightened Buddha extending his help into our habitual mind.

Speaking of samatha-bhāvanā, maintain the state of mind specifically like this. We need not go asking anyone else when we will become good, embarrassing ourselves before others — goodness or evil rests with us, the practitioner. If we practice and cannot achieve good, that shows we are too depraved, because cultivating samatha-bhāvanā or vipassanā-bhāvanā requires no investment at all. Sitting, walking, lying down — it can be done in any posture whatsoever, with no restriction. Whatever position we sit in, whatever position we lie in, whatever position we stand in, whatever way we walk — all are usable, because we are controlling our mental strength to keep it steady. Another point: in cultivating samatha-bhāvanā we do not want any images, lights, or colors at all. Whatever phenomena appear — be it an image, a light, or a sound that appears — we pay no attention. Do not pay attention to any image, light, color, or sound that appears. If any image, sound, color, or light appears, control your own emotional state specifically regardless — whatever sound comes, let it be, however it comes let it be sound.

Whatever image appears, let it be image, because we want only one thing: the recitation or noting of the in- and out-breath — this alone is enough. If you can maintain your state of mind like this, this is considered jhāna. This applies specifically to beginning practitioners — for them, cultivating meditation to maintain this state of mind is enough already; let the mind have sufficient strength, then try to maintain it every day — do not merely go through the motions.

Do not merely study — studying, wherever one goes, one asks here, asks there, asks over there — wherever one goes, one asks there — this means our mind's attention is scattered, not fixed on any one particular point. This too is called failing to succeed, because the meditation subjects taught by the Fully Enlightened Buddha number 40 in total; the result to be attained is one-pointedness (ekaggatārammaṇa) — having a state of mind that is jhāna, the same in every case. What the Blessed Well-Gone One taught extensively is to be followed according to the disposition of the practitioner.

Therefore, may all you members of the Buddhist assembly, first of all, control your mental strength, note the in- and out-breath, breathing in thinking "Bud," breathing out thinking "dho," keep this as normal; in free time, always maintain this state of mind. Next, observe: during time free from other concerns, the mind simply takes hold of the in- and out-breath and the recitation naturally — this is called the mind's habituated condition. This is called being one whose mind has reached jhāna. When the mind can reach jhāna, you may go to heaven, or to the Brahma realm, or elsewhere according to your disposition. For a person who has practiced for a long time, once we have made our mind maintain [concentration] well, then contemplate the Four Noble Truths.

What the Jewel Lamp Lord, the Fully Enlightened Buddha, taught regarding insight-knowledge — because the Noble Truths have really only two things to be studied: suffering (dukkha) and its origin (samudaya).

Now contemplate that our birth is full of suffering. Where is the suffering? Being born from the mother's womb, one meets the heavy impact of the air; while in the mother's womb there is only warmth and comfort; newly emerged from the mother's womb, one meets heat and cold, the whole body stings, and one cries out — this shows the body is suffering. From then on, hunger is a manifestation of suffering; the urge to defecate or urinate is a manifestation of suffering; sickness and discomfort are manifestations of suffering; old age coming to overwhelm is a manifestation of suffering; death arrives at the body.

Severe painful feeling is a manifestation of suffering. As long as we have not ended suffering, whenever that may be, we must be reborn and meet suffering again. Thus birth is not good; it is suffering.

The Buddha therefore taught people to practice so as to be free from birth — that is, the liberating Dhamma (mokkha-dhamma), the Dhamma that is the means of escape

from death — still not yet reached.

Before we can practice to be free from suffering, we must first know the cause that gives rise to suffering — where suffering comes from — so we can destroy that cause. The Great World-Elder said that the cause of suffering is craving (taṇhā), that is, the urge of desire: wanting something to exist that does not yet exist; wanting something that already exists to remain stable. When the time comes for it to change, the mind does not want it to change, and pulls against it — this is a manifestation of suffering. Wanting something to exist that does not exist means wanting something beyond what is real. If something is according to one's actual need or necessity to eat or use, then seeking just enough to eat and use, without excessive struggle, is also a manifestation of suffering, but suffering that stays within bounds.

But the suffering of craving goes further than that — having enough to eat and use is not enough; one struggles, wanting more and more without limit, never knowing when to stop — this is the manifestation of craving. Seeking a livelihood in the ordinary way is considered normal in maintaining life as right livelihood; this is not classified as major craving. If it is craving at all, it is minor craving; minor cravings carry no great fault.

But if that seeking comes from dishonesty, that is a great danger. The Blessed Fully Enlightened Buddha therefore told us to cut off desire. As long as we are still alive, earning a living must naturally occur; the Buddha did not reject earning a living to support one's family and dependents as necessary — this is considered a duty we should perform. We should not become attached to it excessively; we think that once we have earned it, that is that; having enough to eat and use for the day is enough — or whether there is a surplus or not, no matter — thinking that we are simply doing our duty. We will have no emotional attachment to it at all, and always think that all the wealth we have earned, once we die, is finished with — we cannot carry it to another world.

Where can the power of craving be cut off? We must contemplate personality-view (sakkāya-diṭṭhi), that is, contemplate the body: that our body is full of suffering; in truth this body is not us, not ours; we are not within the body, the body is not within us; the body is merely the four elements come together — water element, earth element, wind element, fire element — it holds together temporarily, and before long it will disintegrate. The body is comparable to a rented house; we dwell there only temporarily, renting

temporarily only. When the time, the season arrives, or when the lease term expires, we must go. We are the mind that comes to reside in the body. Since the body is not us, not ours, we are not within the body, the body is not within us — the body is like a temporarily rented house — why should we wish for birth at all? If we do not wish for birth, that shows we do not wish for craving, that is, taṇhā. If we are born again, there will be suffering like this, meeting again with a rented house that has no permanence.

We do not want birth anymore — what shall we do? We use wisdom to contemplate the teaching of the Fully Enlightened Buddha: is the Buddha's teaching that birth, aging, sickness, and death are real, true or not true? If true, we can believe the Buddha. And the Fully Enlightened Buddha's advice states that giving (dāna) is a condition that cuts off greed, that is, it builds friendship; precepts (sīla) are a condition that cuts off anger. Using wisdom to contemplate and cut through the five aggregates, that is, the body bound up in future rebirth — is this attachment and delusion true or not true? If we have the wisdom to see that it is true, then we come to believe that we have firm confidence in the virtue of the Triple Gem — this is another condition that will prevent our being reborn.

But having come to believe in the Buddha's teaching, we must also practice accordingly. The method of practicing accordingly at the next stage requires maintaining the five precepts as normal. We will not break the precepts ourselves, will not incite others to break the precepts, and will not approve when others break the precepts; have less intoxication with the body, seeing that we must die as a matter of course; have respect for the Triple Gem. If these two things — pure five precepts — are maintained for all time, the Lord of the Three Worlds, the Great Teacher, said this is the fruit of Stream-entry (Sotāpatti) or the fruit of Once-returning (Sakadāgāmi), a Noble One. This is not difficult. When one is a Noble One, the Sotāpanna and Sakadāgāmī must still be reborn, but reborn less — only between heaven and the human world, or Brahma-world and human world — need not fall into states of loss. But having birth remain like this still has no happiness; there is still a need to cut off suffering entirely.

In the next point, the Great Teacher advises cutting off sexual lust, desire for sex, because desire for another person's body, having delight and desire in another's body, is the folly of a person whose defilements have penetrated the heart. Because having a spouse is not a condition for happiness, is not a cause bringing happiness — it is a cause bringing suffering. One must bear the burden from one's spouse, and the spouse's parents, relatives, siblings, and friends besides, creating suffering arising in our mind and body, depriving us of freedom, confining us within bounds. As for seeking a spouse, consider

whether one is a suitable-looking person with an attractive figure, lovable in appearance — but both our spouse and ourselves do not remain that way. Before long, withering appears, deterioration appears, and suffering is carried in as a heavy burden.

So the Lord of the Three Worlds, the Great Teacher, advises that if we do not want rebirth, we should cut off the emotion of delight and desire in having a spouse, by contemplating the body, called:

Body-mindfulness meditation (kāyagatāsati-kammaṭṭhāna) — seeing that our body is made of pieces and segments, entirely full of the 32 parts, ordinarily filthy, with nothing good to be found. While maintaining the body it is full of suffering; while maintaining the body, filth manifests — if we do not bathe for 2-3 days, the body becomes so foul-smelling it is unbearable, and everything that flows out of the body, such as feces and urine, is repulsive even to ourselves. This shows that inside, our body is extremely full of filth.

Therefore the Fully Enlightened Buddha taught all Buddhist men and women disciples to contemplate that our body is like a foul thing, a corpse, and like a corpse already dead — though in truth it is not yet dead; the body is like a walking ghost, because inside it is filthy. Our saliva, while held in the mouth, we can swallow, but when spat out we dare not touch it with our hand because we find the saliva repulsive. Where is our saliva? In truth it is right there inside our own body. The Buddha contemplated the body compared to a corpse dead one day, two days, three days, four days, five days — it swells up, oozes lymph fluid, and becomes entirely repulsive. All this filth is not something newly arisen — it is [already] in our body. While the body is under the mind's control, it conceals it; the filth cannot all pour out, but it discharges what accumulates only as feces and urine — that it cannot help but let flow for us to see.

So the Great Teacher [has us] contemplate our own body and other people's bodies as equally full of filth and foulness, repulsive things, making the mind attain the knowledge of disenchantment (nibbidā-ñāṇa), disenchantment with our own body and the bodies of others, until we have such disgust that seeing a person's face is like seeing a corpse; the mind becomes disenchanted, with no attachment to our body or the bodies of others.

How do we reach the endpoint of this meditation subject? We contemplate our body: sensual lust, that is, sexual attraction, will not appear in the mind; seeing a person is like seeing a log of wood placed across the shoulder — worthless for touch; no desire for sex. If one achieves this, it is equivalent to stepping into the first level of Anāgāmī. At the second level, the Buddha has us subdue hatred and vindictiveness by cultivating the four divine abodes (brahmavihāra), beginning with loving-kindness, having a mind that thinks to forgive people and animals who do wrong.

Think instead that the person who does evil does so because they act out of misunderstanding, not realizing that what they do is evil, believing it to be good; have forgiveness as a matter of course until this state becomes normal — whoever curses or speaks ill, one feels no anger, no hatred, seeing it as ordinary. When your mind can let go of sensual desire and anger like this, the Fully Enlightened Buddha says you have reached the state of Anāgāmī.

But to have this feeling, one must rely on personality-view [contemplation] — that is, sit and contemplate that the body is not us, not ours, is an ordinary thing that is merely being maintained; this body in truth belongs to no one, is no one's; each person merely holds a rented house as their own temporarily. But this rented house is full of filth, foulness, has odor, has vapor, has stench, has staleness, is foul and messy, a repulsive thing. We then naturally develop disenchantment — thinking gradually, practicing gradually — and then we have the perfection of loving-kindness, a mind of compassion and pity for other people and animals who do evil; instead of making them our enemy, we instead have a mind of pity, wishing to help them to happiness, wishing to guide them onto the right path; having a mind intent on the perfection of loving-kindness like this is called being an Anāgāmī. If you can maintain the state of Anāgāmī, the Jewel Lamp Lord says that after dying from this life you will be reborn as a deva or Brahma, and need not return to be born as a human again; you will enjoy happiness in the state of a deva or Brahma, and when the time comes, when the season arrives, you attain Nibbāna there.

For today, this much guidance will be given, as it has already taken too much time. From here on, may all you members of the Buddhist assembly try to hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in- and out-breath, use the recitation and contemplate as you see fit, until you hear the signal marking the end of time, which is the time for dedicating merit.

[divider: three asterisks marking a section break]

21. Admonishing the Monks

Suffering from heat, from thirst, from sickness and discomfort, old age coming to trouble one, wishes not fulfilled — these are manifestations of suffering altogether. Now, if we are born, we must suffer; if we die and must be reborn again, that too is suffering. As for our escaping suffering by practicing goodness here — we practice in order to escape suffering. We can only be free from suffering by reaching Nibbāna, most importantly. But for as long as our mind has not yet reached Nibbāna, we remain one not yet free from suffering.

Making our mind reach Nibbāna is not difficult — try to cut off all emotions of evil completely. Whatever emotion is a condition for evil — especially, what we see most easily, is any attitude that violates the five precepts. These five precepts are considered the natural state, that is, the state of goodness. If one violates any single one of the five precepts, that means we have created evil arising in the mind. As for all evil whatsoever, the Buddha said to try to abandon it — abandoning by the power of the mind. Once our mind abandons evil, both body and speech must abandon it too, because body and speech, whether acting or speaking, act according to the mind's command. If the mind commands well, speech speaks well, the body acts well; if the mind commands evil, the body acts evil, speech speaks evil. So we sit and control the strength at our mind — we will become a person of pure precepts.

Cultivating meditation is done in this manner — not merely going through the motions, doing it perfunctorily, achieving nothing good because the mind is bad. An example from the time of the Blessed One: some, on hearing a single sermon, became Arahants; having heard a single sermon, they went into the forest to train and practice, gathering their mental strength following the flow of the Buddha's true Dhamma teaching — before long they all became Arahants. They did not sit listening every single day like we all do, listening — good or not, listening on and on until it becomes just an ordinary routine; the result is that what is heard is not put into practice; it is all wasted, and evil is practiced instead in its place.

Whether a person is good or not depends on the mind. If the mind has one single quality of retaining [what it hears], there is no evil; the evil that can come to us arises because the mind does not retain. Look at the example of the Venerable Rādha — ordained only in old age, requesting a meditation subject from the Buddha [to reach] Nibbāna; the Buddha taught him only in brief, yet he

...went to stay with the Venerable Sariputta, and before the rains retreat was even over he had attained the fruit of Arahantship. How did they manage this? The method that made this possible is that the mind has the nature of "remembering" — once remembered, one puts it into practice. That is, we must make our ears into ears of flesh and our eyes into eyes of flesh — not turn the eyes into eyes like a spit-skewer or the ears into ears like a frying pan. A "skewer-eye" looks a great deal but sees nothing; a "frying-pan-ear" is big but cannot hear anything to rely on. Our ears and eyes must be of flesh — able to see, able to hear and rely on what is heard — and the mind must have the nature of remembering. As for what "remembering" means, we have discussed this for a long time; for practitioners who are new, let it be remembered that:

1. We must be a person of pure precepts. Having remembered this, we put it into practice: we will not break the precepts ourselves, we will not incite anyone else to break them, and we will not approve when another person has broken them. Relying on this alone, this one point, is enough to remember for good. Lay people keep five precepts; monks keep two hundred and twenty-seven. For monks whose conduct is not good, it is because the two hundred and twenty-seven precepts are not kept in full. If these 227 precepts were recited for mutual reminder every day, within a few days it would be complete, going back and forth. If conduct is still not good after that, it shows one is simply too corrupt — unworthy of the ochre robe.

2. Firm concentration (samadhi). If the mind has the nature of remembering, this "remembering" itself is the concentration — a simple thing. Remembering what? Remembering not to transgress the precepts. This is one condition that will bring us to Nibbana. As for the second point — keep the mental state that guards the condition of the precepts, preserve it in full — because if the precepts are held in mind fully and practiced fully in truth, we cut off the states of loss; we do not go to be born in hell. This is one result of the mind having the nature of remembering and practicing the precepts. If the mental state can remain in pure precepts, this is called having a mind in concentration. When the mind has concentration, the mind has strength, and wisdom can then be used to help us destroy suffering entirely. The condition of the mind remembering the precepts, and maintaining them purely with concentration in the recollection-of-virtue meditation subject — this does not yet reach Nibbana, but it draws near. If the mind can hold the precepts in concentration we can be reborn as a Brahma — this is called the holy life, because we behave in the manner of a Brahma, having the joy of Dhamma as our normal state.

Now, stepping forward into Nibbana requires the use of wisdom. Wisdom itself is in truth not hard to find, but the question is whether the state of mind has the nature of remembering or not. If our disposition does not remember, we will all fall into hell alike, without exception — whether the karma is small or great. The guidance and constant teaching following the current of the true Dhamma — the sermon of the Lord Buddha, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, on the subject of precepts, on the subject...

...of concentration, on the subject of wisdom — we have discussed this so much it grows tiresome, discussed until it feels utterly ordinary. The physical possessions of the Sangha are being destroyed and no one pays attention. This shows the mind has no state of remembering; it is content in the states of loss, wants to go down to hell willingly, wants to go to Avici, or wants to go to Lokantarika — following its own inclination. Look above all at the example of Devadatta: living in the very presence of the Lord of the Threefold World, the supreme teacher, he still had such a wicked disposition that he went to the great hell of Avici. Now, if we wish to go to Nibbana, does our mind remember or not? The Buddha declared: jatipi dukkha — birth is suffering; jarapi dukkha — old age is suffering; maranampi dukkham — death is suffering; soka-parideva-dukkha-domanassa-upayasa, and so on — being parted from what is loved and liked is suffering, sickness and discomfort is suffering. Now our mind can already see this. Our eyes, if they are eyes of flesh, will see the condition of people born before us — they are already older than us.

Jatipi dukkha — birth is suffering.

Jarapi dukkha — old age is suffering. When sickness and discomfort appear, they are already there for us to see. Our own body falls ill, our own body ages; children grow older every day, adults grow older every day.

Maranampi dukkham — death is suffering. People of the village and town die before our eyes every day. Does our mental state remember this? Have we ever considered that our own condition will be just like that?

And do we have any state of remembering how many days we have lived, and how filled with suffering it has been? From the day we were born until today, has there been any happiness at all? If we think that on some day of our life there was happiness, this shows our mind is satisfied with the states of loss, because it deceives itself — it has no wisdom. If we truly had wisdom, we would see that the moment we wake in the morning, before even washing the face, discomfort of body and mind already arises. Suffering is defined as discomfort of body and discomfort of mind. The face is gritty, the eyes crusted, teeth unbrushed — we are uncomfortable in body and mind. This is a symptom of suffering. Does the mind remember? Once we wake we must go to the bathroom, to defecate, to urinate. The urge to defecate and urinate is itself a symptom of suffering, not happiness — struggling in every way. If we cannot find a place to relieve ourselves there is restlessness and stabbing discomfort in every way. This is a symptom of suffering — does the mind remember? Or is it that we want to defecate or urinate, and once we have, we feel relieved and take that to be happiness? Is going once in our life enough, or not? It happens all through the day — this is classed as constant suffering (nibaddha-dukkha). Why do we not remember this? Those bound for Nibbana remember all of it. Once we have defecated and urinated...

The next thing that must arise is hunger for food, wanting to eat, the hunger pressing in upon us. Hunger and thirst themselves are symptoms of suffering. If we do not eat there is constant stabbing discomfort. Now, if we eat one meal, does it satisfy us for a whole life? It does not last a whole life; in a single day we eat many times, hungry many times. However many times we are hungry, that many times is suffering; however many times we crave, that many times is suffering. And we go on eating until we die — it never stops; as long as we are not yet dead we keep eating. What is called suffering is present with us every single day. Does our mental state perceive this or not? If our mind does not see it, this shows our mind is a mind devoid of wisdom. Suffering truly exists, but we have never seen it as suffering. If we did see suffering, what benefit would there be?

This suffering the Buddha called the Noble Truth (ariyasacca) — the truth which the Noble Ones have penetrated, and the truth that makes a person a Noble One. Every Noble One who became one did so because they saw suffering as of central importance. Knowing that this very arising is full of suffering with every in-breath and out-breath — this is the essence of suffering itself. If we are born again in future, this same kind of suffering will occur again for however many hundreds of thousands of lives, however many hundreds of thousands of aeons — it is always just the same, this same suffering. If we do not want to be born again, if we want Nibbana, we must walk toward finding what is the condition of suffering. The cause giving rise to suffering is craving (tanha) — that is, wanting: struggling and scrambling, wanting to be born again, wanting life to continue, not wanting it to die; or, having been born, wanting it to remain stable, not wanting to age, not wanting to die. When old age arrives, when death arrives, one struggles, wanting to escape old age and death.

This "wanting" is itself the foolish thing, the thing that cuts off wisdom — it is not wisdom itself; it belongs to the states of loss. To reach Nibbana we must cut off this wanting — that is, cut off this very foolishness. Whatever it wants that we ought to cut off, we cut off: the wanting to be born human, born a deva, born a Brahma. Being born human is fine, a deva is fine, a Brahma is fine — all are conditions for suffering. We will not have it; we are going to Nibbana. How do those who go to Nibbana manage it? There are only three causes by which one can reach Nibbana, namely:

First, knowing how to give alms (dana). Giving destroys greed, covetousness. We give in order to cut off defilement, not in hope of return. Once given, it is given — let it go. This is the cutting off of the greed that resides in the mind.

Second, we have pure precepts by the power of the four Brahmaviharas. If we have the four Brahmaviharas, our precepts are pure; if we lack them, the precepts are not pure. This applies equally to monks, novices, and lay people. Monks have 227 precept-rules to practice, but in truth there is even more than that. If one practices all 227 rules in full, there is nothing left to be admonished about — not the slightest flaw remains; no fault can be found at all. That we are found wanting is because we lack precepts; we must then say we are monastics without precepts. If the precepts are deficient this shows they are absent — and being absent, what are we then? We are laypeople. These 227 training rules are thorough enough already. If we respect and practice all of them there is nothing to fear at all; we are at ease, and going to Nibbana is easy. For a monk who respects all 227 rules there is no gap through which to fall to the states of loss. But if we do have such a gap, opening a hole for offenses to feed on, this shows our heart does not love the precepts. When the heart does not love the precepts, the precepts are not in the heart — only the husk remains. If only the husk remains, and one still wears the ochre robe, then Avici is where one is headed.

So then, if we want to go to Nibbana, when we have all four Brahmaviharas the precepts become firm. Firm precepts mean the mind holds the four Brahmaviharas — this is called a mind that holds concentration. This brings a cool, tranquil mood, ease, complete mindfulness and clear comprehension because the heart is cool. A person devoid of mindfulness and clear comprehension lapses into violating the training rules because they lack the four Brahmaviharas; their mind is hot, burned by the fire of hell in their own heart, so they cannot think clearly, cannot recall, cannot remember, because the fire of hell is burning their heart. When our mind holds the four Brahmaviharas as its normal state, the precepts become pure.

Holding the four Brahmaviharas cuts off anger and ill will — this is the second defilement we must overcome to reach Nibbana. We can destroy it by the power of the four Brahmaviharas. Whose four Brahmaviharas are deficient? Just look at the precepts — that alone is enough. If the precepts are deficient, the four Brahmaviharas are absent. If the four Brahmaviharas are absent, what happens? One goes to hell.

If the four Brahmaviharas are complete and the precepts not deficient, this shows that person's mind is in concentration, with a firm and cool mental state. In cultivating concentration we want just one thing: a cool, tranquil state of heart. When the heart is cool, the fire of hell does not burn; ease of heart arises. Wisdom arises because the mental state is cool; wisdom fails to arise when the mental state is hot — like a person scorched fiercely by the sun, who when hot cannot think of anything. If the mental state is cool, like sitting comfortably as when sitting in an air-conditioned room, the mind is clear and open.

This point has an analogy: our mind is just the same. If it is struck by the fires of defilement — ragaggi, the fire of lust; mohaggi, the fire of delusion; dosaggi, the fire of hatred — these three fires of defilement burn us and make us hot, so we cannot think clearly. How do these three fires burn? They burn in place of the fire of hell. If one is burned by these three fires, one suffers scorching heat while still alive, and when one dies, they drag one down into hell — that is why they are called the fires of hell.

When the mental state is at ease, wisdom arises. How? A person sitting comfortably, with an easeful mental state, can see clearly that birth, aging, sickness, and death are real, and that this world — indeed any world whatsoever — if there is birth again, is filled with suffering. One may escape temporarily by becoming a deva or a Brahma, but this escape does not last forever; once the merit that brought one there as a deva or Brahma is exhausted, one falls back down to be born as a human, an animal, a hell-being, a hungry ghost, or an asura — none of it is any good. We will not have it; we decide firmly, once and for all.

As for further birth, it is no longer for us. We do not want to be a human, do not want to be a deva, do not want to be a Brahma. We want only Nibbana. We will not be intoxicated by life; we will not be intoxicated by possessions. We hold that life and possessions are not us, not ours. When we die the body will remain lying on the ground; our wealth cannot go with us. While alive we maintain the body, maintaining it only in order to preserve it for a while; once dead, that is the end of it. Let go of the attachment from now on. While living we must still work to earn a living, but as for where it goes after death, let it be — no need to worry. What does "no worry" mean? We no longer want this body, the five aggregates, ever again — we will not take it up again. The five aggregates are the body of a human being; the divine aggregates are the body of a deva or of a Brahma — we do not want any of it. We are resolved specifically that we do not want it. We want only one thing: Nibbana.

Seeing someone die, we think: before long we too must die like them. Seeing someone age, we think: before long we too must age like them. Seeing someone fall ill, we think: before long we too will fall ill like them. When it dies, wherever it goes, let it go — we will not take it up again. Birth, so full of wretchedness, so full of suffering — we do not want it anymore. We want only one thing: the realm of Nibbana. It is the deathless realm: no aging, no sickness, no illness, no discomfort, not even the tiniest speck of suffering — no suffering at all in the realm of Nibbana.

We fix our resolve on Nibbana alone — this shows the mind truly lets go. Nibbana is reached easily, like the venerable Godhika: his mind let go specifically, and upon death he went straight to Nibbana. It is not hard to go; Nibbana is reached easily — but only if our mind is made to have the state of remembering. Let our ears be a human's ears, our eyes a human's eyes — that will serve. If the ears are like a frying pan and the eyes like a spit, it will not do; one cannot get there. This means improving the body, improving the mind properly. There are still many deficiencies in our own community, more than is fitting. That is, teaching is given every single day, three times a day, yet the flaws — flaws of mental state, flaws of conduct — are still many, more than in other centers. In ancient times, when people practiced, for the most part they did not receive teaching every day and at so many times as here; only once a month, two months, or half a month would they receive instruction from their teacher, when truly necessary. Otherwise they were taught all at once, on a single occasion, and each practiced on their own — and in the end they still attained goodness. But with us, we teach too much, so perhaps carelessness grows. How can we know? We can know by this:

First: conduct sometimes displayed is not the conduct of a monk.

Second: the property of the Sangha — we warn about it again and again, yet we still find it scattered about, damaged, and no one cares. This shows our minds have no state of remembering. Improve yourselves, improve your minds in time, or else you will fall to Lokantarika first.

Turning memory into stubborn memory, turning memory into callused memory, turning the mind into a blind mind — in the end how will one see the way to heaven, the way to the Brahma-world, the way to Nibbana? One must cultivate a memory that is, for instance, full of brightness, full of caution, always self-aware. The Dhamma and Vinaya are recited daily for mutual reliance; this Vinaya ought to be fluent for every one of you by now — but no, instead it has become "fluent at not remembering," which is not the fluency of remembering at all. From now on, resolve to restrain yourselves properly — this sort of matter should not need reminding. Relying on it every day and still needing reminders — this is us punishing ourselves; examine yourselves, sitting and considering how corrupt we have already been, and whether we can add any goodness yet to come. But if the precepts are deficient, one cannot go to heaven, cannot even come back as a human. Improve in time — do not ruin yourself through excessive recklessness. Reckless conduct shows a corrupt heart, a state without remembering.

Now then, from this point on, may everyone hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, fix the mind on the in-breath and out-breath, determine to know specifically that for this period of thirty minutes we will not allow the mind to stray

from the in-breath and out-breath. When breathing in, we know we are breathing in; when breathing out, we know we are breathing out. Hold only to this first object: that we want Nibbana. Resolve this from the very start — that in doing this practice we want Nibbana. And while noting the in-breath and out-breath, think along with it: on the in-breath think "Bud," on the out-breath think "dho." Buddho is the name of the goodness of the Buddha. At this time the Buddha has already entered Nibbana. If at any moment our mind is still holding to the word "Buddho," and the mind is fixed specifically on Nibbana, then whenever we die, at that very moment we go to Nibbana.

From this point on, may all members of the Buddhist assembly hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in-breath and out-breath, use the recitation word and reflect according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing that time is up.

***

22. Recollection of the Dhamma, the Reflective Method

Today's explanation of the practice of meditation will explain the meditation on recollection of the Dhamma (dhammanussati). Among the ten recollections, foremost is recollection of the Buddha, and last is mindfulness of breathing (anapanasati). According to the traditional texts it is said that recollection of the Dhamma attains only access concentration (upacara-samadhi) and cannot reach jhana. But if we are clever, we can bring all the recollections to reach even the eight attainments (samapatti), and this becomes the basis for insight-knowledge, reaching the highest insight-knowledge, even attaining Arahantship. This is a matter of the practitioner's cleverness or foolishness.

As for the meditation on recollection of the Dhamma, it is explained as: constantly recollecting the goodness of the Dhamma taught by the Lord Buddha, the Fully Self-Enlightened One. "Anussati" means to recollect repeatedly; "Dhamma" is the teaching the Buddha taught.

The Dhamma the Buddha taught amounts in total to 84,000 units of Dhamma. It is impossible for us to take up all 84,000 units and contemplate them at the same time, because time is limited. Therefore we must take hold of the heart of the religion, which the Lord Buddha taught as his final utterance — that is, the proclamation given to all the monks who go out to proclaim the religion, to hold as the standard, called the Ovada-Patimokkha, which says:

Sabbapapassa akaranam — All of you, teach the people to abandon all evil entirely.

Kusalassupasampada — practice only goodness. Sacittapariyodapanam — make your own mental state bright and clear. Etam Buddhana sasanam — this, he affirmed, is the teaching that every Buddha proclaims the same way, without exception.

When we are to contemplate the Dhamma according to the recollection method called the highest level of access concentration, we consider these three points. We hold in mind always: as for anything called evil, we shall not do it at all. And the coarsest, most easily seen level of evil is the transgression of the five precepts. We shall absolutely never transgress them. If we can avoid transgressing the five precepts, then we are said to...

not doing evil. If we still transgress the five precepts, then we are still doing evil — that will not do. So we sit and examine our own minds: has our mind come to accept and honor the goodness in the five precepts, or not? If not yet, we must strive to root out the evil. We hold that transgressing any one of the five precepts, whichever it may be, is not necessary for life at all.

Killing living beings to sustain one's own life is not necessary. If one wants to eat meat, villagers are already slaughtering animals for sale — we can go and buy it to eat; or one need not eat meat at all. Those who eat vegetarian food grow full and stout and fat in every way. Elephants, water buffalo, horses — they eat only grass yet have far greater strength than people, plenty of it. This shows that food need not use meat as its standard. But if meat is available without our having had to kill for it, we may eat it. If we must kill an animal ourselves to have it, that is destroying a life, creating evil — we will not have it. So this precept, too, is one we have no need to transgress.

Second: stealing another person's property, seizing it by fraud or deceit, is not necessary either. However much we might seize by fraud, we must still age, still fall ill, still die, just the same. Whether we have much or little we age, fall ill, and die alike — having much or little wealth makes no difference to life.

Third: transgressing the third precept, that is, sexual misconduct — union with a woman who belongs to another or is guarded — brings no benefit at all. It does not make one a good person, does not make one young, does not create a great or minor wealthy person out of anyone. Whether one has many wives or few, many husbands or few, one still ages, still falls ill, still dies just the same.

As for sustaining one's life, we sustain it through honesty; we do not engage in dishonesty, and we can still live. Speaking falsely means lying in order to sustain one's livelihood. We wish for happiness, yet this cannot truly bring happiness — we still age, still fall ill, still die the same. Why should we go about lying to others?

Drinking alcohol and intoxicants wears down life, wears down wisdom, brings disease and illness upon the body, damages the nerves leaving them clouded, makes one a person devoid of mindfulness and clear comprehension, dull-witted — it brings no benefit at all. Those who do not drink alcohol or take intoxicants can still live their lives — there is no need at all for us to transgress this precept.

So we consider: can we fulfill this very first teaching of the Lord Buddha, the Fully Self-Enlightened One? This is what we hold as the recollection-of-Dhamma meditation — it is not merely sitting and reciting "Buddho" blankly. Reciting "Buddho" blankly is simply holding the mental state in jhana; but we must also control the mental state in this way: that we will not transgress the prohibitions the Buddha forbade concerning precepts. And as for the teachings the Buddha advised against practicing — such as the four kinds of bias and also jealousy and envy — these too we must not have in our hearts. So then, if our mind can refuse to associate with all these things, pay them no attention, and remain constantly on guard so they do not arise in our hearts, this is called not doing evil as the Buddha stated in the first clause. This much can be counted as one out of the three parts of the recollection-of-Dhamma meditation.

The second point of recollection of Dhamma: the Buddha taught us to do only good — that is, to keep the five precepts pure and maintain the four Brahmaviharas as our normal state. The four Brahmaviharas are: metta, loving-kindness; karuna, compassion, pity; mudita, having a gentle heart, not envying anyone; upekkha, equanimity — letting natural law come as it will, illness and discomfort, friction of the mind, that being the natural law of the life of any being that is born, taking it as an ordinary matter, our mind unshaken. This is called having done good. Preserve this goodness the way salt preserves its saltiness. If our mind can hold to this, it shows we have achieved two of the three parts counted as the recollection-of-Dhamma meditation.

Sacittapariyodapanam — the Buddha advised us to make the mind bright and clear. In this, the Lord of the Threefold World advised us to recollect natural law as our normal state — that the condition of life, whether of living things or non-living things, everything in the world entire, is impermanent (anicca); nothing at all can be found stable. Being impermanent, it is subject to suffering (dukkha); when it is impermanent it suffers. In the end it is not-self (anatta) — it dissolves; nothing stands fixed. If we go clinging to worldly phenomena, meaning clinging to life, taking this body of ours to be "us," to be "ours," this shows we are utterly foolish. This body is not us, is not ours; we are not within the body, the body is not within us. The body is merely the four elements — water, earth, wind, fire — come together to form a temporary dwelling, like a temporary lodging house, a rented house. If it is a rented house, then it charges far too much in rent. The landlord is defilement, craving, clinging, and unwholesome kamma, which push us to come and dwell in this body. It collects rent, and it is exceedingly cruel. We come to...

to dwell in this house; this house is entirely filled with suffering. It must be repaired every day, several times a day. Repaired with what? Repaired with food and nourishment. If not repaired, it falls into disorder, creating suffering for us. We feed it constantly, yet it is still never enough. Sometimes it staggers and totters — meaning sickness and discomfort appear; happiness, physical ease, and peace of mind vanish, and there is only torment of body and torment of mind. However much wealth we have, we must spend it all trying to nurse this body back, until it is entirely used up — wealth we earned through such hardship. This shows that the landlord of this house is exceedingly cruel-hearted. And more than that — however much we try to nurture and maintain it, the landlord still works constantly to make this house, this body we dwell in, deteriorate all the time. We see our own body growing older, deteriorating continually, forever. This reveals just how cruel-hearted this landlord truly is. And in the end it destroys the house entirely. This is what is meant by dwelling in, or renting, this house: having already paid such a high rent, and it is still not enough — in the end the landlord destroys this very house, forcing us to go seek out another house to dwell in.

So it is that these houses, and whatever house comes after, that we may have in future, we will meet with nothing but suffering; there is nothing at all that is happiness in it. Therefore the Lord Buddha, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, taught the Buddhist assembly: Sacittapariyodapanam — make the mind bright and clear. Think always: this rented house, this body, is entirely filled with suffering. If we must go on having this kind of house in future, we will only meet suffering again. Set down the burden of this house — meaning we take no more interest in this house. Yet while we still dwell in it, we must still maintain it as usual, because we still live here — finding food to feed it, finding clothing when it is cold, finding water to bathe it when it is hot, bringing coolness to it. If it becomes sick or uncomfortable, we treat it to relieve the pain. But if it is truly going to collapse, let it. Keep the mind resolved always: this wretched house of ours will not be for us any longer. Why is this? Because it is the very condition of suffering; it is the lineage of defilement, craving, clinging, and unwholesome kamma — or one might say it is the prison to which defilement, craving, clinging, and unwholesome kamma have sent our mind, confining us as a form of torment. Therefore, this type of house, or prison, we will not have any longer. In our past lives we were foolish; but now we have come to encounter the teaching of the Lord, the Jewel Lamp [the Buddha], who has taught us to know that this house is the condition of suffering, the dwelling-body of suffering — we do not want it anymore.

How do we go about not wanting it any longer?

We reach back to the teaching that the Lord of the Threefold World laid down as the guiding principle for destroying this house — that is, no longer wanting to encounter this house again. That means practicing giving (dana). Always consider that we must give as the Buddha commanded, so that we will no longer have a house so full of suffering and trouble as this. We must become a person who knows how to give properly — giving here does not mean giving for the sake of appearance, or for reputation. We give for the sake of dignity — meaning we give in order to cut off the defilement of greed, the greed that wants to keep having this house any longer. We no longer want to have this house; we give in order to cut the very root and stem of the cause that would give us another house of this kind. Give well, as a way of supporting others and as a way of making the mind at ease.

Second point: we shall be a person of pure precepts, endowed with the four Brahmaviharas. Without the four Brahmaviharas, precepts are not pure. This is the elimination of hatred and anger so that they perish entirely.

Third point: we shall believe what the Lord of the Threefold World, the great teacher, proclaimed: jatipi dukkha — birth is suffering; jarapi dukkha — old age is suffering; maranampi dukkham — death is suffering; soka-parideva-dukkha-domanassa-upayasa — grief and lamentation and sorrow are suffering; being parted from what is loved and liked is suffering. If we cling — since all these things, this body of ours, is not us — we should not cling to it. Consider instead that once it has arisen, we know it will grow ill, will age, will die. We hold that once born, before long it ages — it ages more every day, we know this; let it age, we are not troubled by its condition, let it be as it will. If it wants to age, let it age. If it becomes sick and uncomfortable, we treat it — if it recovers, it recovers; if not, or if it is going to die, let it be — we no longer want it anyway. When death truly does arrive, we take pride instead, thinking: the very end of our suffering has arrived at last. The Lord, the Jewel Lamp, taught us not to cling — we do not cling to this type of house; it is good that it collapses. Let this life be the very last life for us with such a poor body as this, so full of suffering. From now on we will seek happiness — that is, being one who is not born as a human, not born as a deva, not born as a Brahma. What we truly want to attain is Nibbana alone, one single path. This kind of contemplation, as the ancient masters wrote, brings one to reach access concentration. For today I will end the talk here.

This is called the recollection-of-Dhamma meditation, the reflective method. As for the recollection-of-Dhamma meditation done by way of absorption to reach jhana-attainment, there will be an opportunity to continue tomorrow.

From this point on, may all members of the Buddhist assembly try to hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in-breath and out-breath, using the recitation word "Buddho," or "Dhammo," or "Sangho" — but if reciting "Buddho," keep the mind only at "Buddho"; do not let it stray to "Dhammo" or "Sangho." If reciting "Dhammo," keep the mind only at "Dhammo" alone; do not go to "Buddho" or "Sangho." If reciting "Sangho," keep the mind only at "Sangho" alone; do not let it go to "Buddho" or "Dhammo" — the mind will scatter. Whichever mental state you maintain, maintain that same one as your normal practice. When breathing in think "Bud"; breathing out think "dho." If cultivating recollection of Dhamma, breathing in think "Dham," breathing out think "mo" — Dhammo, Dhammo. If cultivating recollection of Sangha, breathing in think "San," breathing out think "gho." Whichever one specifically, do not let the mind wander to another object. If we are able to maintain this goodness even for a moment within the thirty minutes now to be given, if we can hold this goodness for even three minutes, then we may be said to have done a fair amount of good.

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23. Recollection of the Dhamma, the Method of Fixed Mental Impression

Today we shall continue speaking on recollection of the Dhamma. Yesterday we spoke of recollection of the Dhamma according to the reflective method the ancient masters wrote of, which brings the mental state to access concentration. Today we shall speak of recollection-of-Dhamma meditation at the level of jhana, because if we are clever, we can indeed do it. Thus, in cultivating meditation according to the specific traditional formula, the texts may state that among all the recollections, only mindfulness of breathing can lead into jhana; the rest reach only access concentration. But a clever teacher, such as Luang Phor Pang of Wat Makok, master of the meditation on foulness (asubha-kammatthana), was able to conjure up an image of a corpse at will. We contemplate the image of a corpse dead for one day, two days, three days, four days, five days, six days — whichever stage — and when we speak of the characteristic of foulness, that is, a corpse in such a state, the image will appear as a person lying there before us. This is because one uses the recollection combined with a kasina. This is the kind of cleverness one may have, and it can be done this way.

For recollection of the Dhamma it is the same. If we cultivate the recollection-of-Dhamma meditation by contemplating the teaching of the Lord Buddha, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, in that manner, the result is only access concentration. But if we truly contemplate it while also adding insight-knowledge, then over time the strength gathers and merges into the first jhana, and defilements can likewise be cut off. Now let us speak of how to reach the fourth jhana or the eighth jhana — and indeed, it can be done.

First of all, the beginning stage need not be discussed again — we already resolve to hold the image of some Buddha, that is, a Buddha statue, as the object arising from recollection of the Buddha. In cultivating recollection of the Buddha to the level of jhana, we already hold the Buddha image as our object; now we take that same Buddha image, already established as recollection of the Buddha, as our original kasina. When it comes time to contemplate recollection of the Dhamma, one is instructed to fix the mind and visualize that a crystal jasmine flower falls from the mouth of the Lord Buddha, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, or from the mouth of that Buddha image. This creates a kasina-image of a crystal jasmine flower: the Buddha image opens its mouth, parting its lips, and the crystal jasmine flower falls down, clear in color, and becomes beautiful, like a clear, beautiful crystal. This crystal is held to be the recollection of Dhamma — that is, the Dhamma flowing out from the mouth of the Buddha. This is how the object is grasped in this method, and I must add...

I must also mention: as for seeing the crystal jasmine flower flow out from the mouth of the Buddha, the word "crystal" here means clear. Clear can be of two kinds: the white kasina (odata-kasina) or the light kasina (aloka-kasina). If we hold the image as colored, [and] clear, it is the light kasina. If we hold that the crystal jasmine flower is white and clear — clear and also white — it is the white kasina. Then we hold that image, noting the in-breath and out-breath: breathing in, think "Dham"; breathing out, think "mo," reciting "Dhammo." Hold that image of the crystal jasmine flower fixed before the eyes and in the mind, as one's normal state.

If our mind is at the beginning stage of access concentration, we will see the crystal jasmine flower according to what the mind visualizes — sometimes seeing it, sometimes not, going back and forth. As soon as the mind slips even slightly it is no longer in concentration, and the sense of seeing the crystal jasmine flower disappears — this is the measure of it. If the mental state becomes concentrated, the sense of seeing the crystal jasmine flower we want appears. If we are already skilled, coming from recollection-of-Buddha meditation having attained the fourth jhana or the eighth jhana, then this matter is not difficult at all — we can produce the recollection-of-Dhamma meditation to reach the eighth jhana within seven days. It is not difficult at all — within these seven days, note well, meaning within seven days, not necessarily a full seven days.

Once contemplated in this way, the mind becomes stable in access concentration, and the crystal jasmine flower will stay still — it is said to settle down or float in front of one, staying still specifically. Once it stays still like that we can command it to remain for as long as we wish, according to the strength we desire — this is still the beginning level of concentration, called the uggaha-nimitta (the "grasped" image). This uggaha-nimitta will next expand: on looking it appears that the crystal jasmine flower seems to grow larger or shrink smaller, rise higher or sink lower — seeing only the same image originally conceived is called the uggaha-nimitta; if one can make that image move, grow larger, grow smaller, become clearer, it becomes more radiant and beautiful, and this is called the upacara-nimitta. This upacara-nimitta becomes even more radiant, the mind becomes even more stable, and the crystal jasmine flower becomes clear, expands, grows large, and becomes a brilliant point of light like the morning star.

Once the crystal jasmine flower becomes this brilliant point of light, we are now truly practicing recollection of Dhamma. Reciting "Dhammo," we then observe the mental state — the mind can hear outside sounds very clearly and distinctly, yet we are not disturbed by the sound. This shows that the image (nimitta) has become the counterpart-image (patibhaga-nimitta); the mind has reached the first jhana, the recitation continues on; the image of the crystal jasmine flower becomes more radiant and beautiful than usual, and remains stable for a long time.

As one continues meditating on and on, the mind-state of the meditation stops for a moment. The crystal jasmine flower becomes clearer than before, changing abnormally again into a more sparkling glow, more beautiful than before. This is the character of the second jhana. The recitation word disappears and a feeling of moist freshness appears.

Next, the feeling of freshness disappears, the breath grows fainter, one feels that the breath has become abnormally light, the ears hear outside sounds faintly, very faint indeed. Then there arises a tense feeling, the body stiffens, one feels as if the body is rigid, sitting upright; if lying down it feels as if lying stretched out rigidly held, though we have not deliberately tensed — the feeling is simply like that. The color of the crystal jasmine becomes especially bright, dazzlingly clear, indescribable, gripping the mind. It can become large, it can become small, it can move forward, it can move backward, we can make it stay high or low, feeling more and more agile. This character is the character of the third jhana. At this point the recitation has completely disappeared.

Then afterward the crystal jasmine becomes a dense, thick sparkling glow, a dazzling shimmer that grips the mind, and the breath no longer appears. This is the character of the fourth jhana.

This, then, is how we practice dhammanussati (recollection of the Dhamma) to reach the fourth jhana. Remember these signs. From this evening onward, this shall count as the complete study of the forty kammatthana subjects. But when actually practicing, actually meditating, actually contemplating, choose according to your own inclination — we study this in order to have the knowledge, so that when something arises we will know for certain what it is.

Next, when the mind grasps the image as the special sparkling glow of dhammanussati — that is, the especially clear, bright crystal jasmine — it can hold for a very long time, because we have already attained jhana from buddhanussati kammatthana, so it is not difficult. Mostly people accomplish it in a single day; in one sitting they attain the eighth jhana, because the original jhana was already the eighth jhana — the mind-state is of the same kind. At most it will feel awkward on the first day; by the second day it goes straight through to the eighth jhana.

What has been described so far is called rupa-jhana, the four jhanas complete. The rupa-jhana being complete at four, we next make dhammanussati kammatthana into the eighth jhana. We take up the formless (arupa) jhana, setting up the mental image — the crystal jasmine that we consider to be the Dhamma-teaching of the Lord Buddha — letting it stand still, holding a fixed mind-state. When it is still and the mind is at ease as an equanimous mind-state, the mind shifts, thinking: let this image vanish, let space (akasa) appear — akasanañcayatana. Contemplate that at this moment there is nothing; the image has entirely vanished, there remains only an empty condition, leaving only

space. Space, by definition, is boundless; nothing about it stays fixed. Our life is the same — if we are still lost in form, taste, smell, sound, and touch, there will be only boundless suffering. This is very close to vipassana insight, but it has not yet arrived. If we still have a self existing like this, we will meet boundless suffering — heat, cold, thirst, the various sufferings that arise largely because we depend on the body as essential. From now on we do not want the body, we do not want anything at all. What is called the five aggregates is the receptacle of all suffering; we do not want it — we want only one thing: the ending of the five aggregates, having a nature like space. The mind will then hold steady, having normalcy; a still mind is the mind-state of the fourth jhana; the mind holding ease as the fourth jhana can be attained as one wishes. This is called attaining akasanañcayatana-jhana.

Having attained akasanañcayatana-jhana and contemplated space, next we move up a little further into viññanañcayatana-jhana. Contemplate that: as long as what is called consciousness (viññana) still holds its state, it still receives the condition of happiness or suffering. We do not want consciousness to hold its state, gathered into a mass; we want this consciousness to dissolve like space, so it will have no reception of any contact at all. Then the mind fixes its gaze straight ahead, seeing the image of consciousness set up as a mental sign, then scatters the consciousness so it dissolves away, nothing remaining. If this mind-state is sustained, the mind reaches the fourth jhana, and this is called attaining viññanañcayatana-jhana.

Now akiñcaññayatana-jhana, the third [formless jhana]: take up the kasina image. This kasina image has a condition like the condition of the mind. What is called the five aggregates, as we have said, and consciousness too — as long as these still exist, they are useless, they will still meet with suffering. From now on, even the slightest consciousness will not appear for us. Akiñcaññayatana means having nothing at all; we are one who has nothing left, not even the slightest bit — not even a single feeling will appear. The mind destroys the kasina image so it vanishes — that is, makes the crystal jasmine image vanish, leaving only empty space. The mind has happiness, contemplating constantly: we want to have no form, no such condition, we will have no suffering. If the mind sustains this to the fourth jhana, then it is said we have attained the seventh jhana — the third formless jhana is the seventh jhana.

The fourth formless jhana is neva-saññā-nāsaññāyatana: we turn back to grasp the body, grasp consciousness, grasp the mind, grasp our own body, [contemplating] that at this time we still have a body, it receives suffering, we have sense-bases and they receive suffering.

We have consciousness, we still have the condition of receiving contact and it receives suffering, not receiving happiness. Our life has no reception of happiness at all — it receives only suffering. From now on, even though we still remain in this body, we shall make ourselves feel as if we were a person without perception (saññā) — neva-saññā-nāsaññāyatana. It is said one has perception and has sense-bases, but acts as if having no perception, acts as if having no sense-bases. Sense-bases are: eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind. Perception (saññā) is memory — remembering 'this is cold,' 'this is hot,' 'this is sour,' 'this is salty,' 'this is spicy,' 'this is warm,' whatever it may be, it is remembered. Saññā means memory. Now we do not wish to remember; let go — whether it becomes hot, whether it becomes cold, whatever it does, never mind it. Act as if already dead, act as if feeling nothing, and then the mind can hold steady. Whether it is cold, whether it is hot, whether it is hungry, whether it is thirsty — 'I am not hungry.' Let it want to be hungry and be hungry — I am not hungry. The mind stays in calm, and so hunger does not even arise. When cold truly comes — well, whatever it does, never mind, 'I am not cold' — bring the mind into the fourth jhana and it is not cold. This is called having perception as though having none, having consciousness as though having none, having sense-bases — the eye sees form, the ear hears sound — a beautiful form or pleasant sound, I am not interested; an unattractive form or unpleasant sound, I am not interested; whatever the taste of food may be, I am not interested. Having sense-bases yet acting as if having none; the eye sees form as if not seeing; having seen, there is no interest, [knowing] that all these things dissolve completely, and going forward they will cease to exist at all. This is very close to vipassana insight. Therefore those who attain the eightfold absorption develop vipassana insight in no more than one week, attain arahantship, and gain the analytical knowledges (patisambhida-ñana). Contemplating along these lines until the mind grows accustomed to it is called attaining neva-saññā-nāsaññāyatana. This is not difficult, is it? Is it hard? It is not hard. We have already spoken of buddhanussati — the suppression of the hindrances, the maintaining of loving-kindness, the maintaining of the four brahmavihara, the maintaining of precepts — we have discussed these already, and we have already attained buddhanussati kammatthana as the eightfold absorption. So what reason is there to sit fumbling over dhammanussati kammatthana for 7 or 8 days? People fumble with it for no more than 3 days at the slowest — on the first day there is a bit of stumbling, on the second day it is fully absorbed, on the third day one practices to make it steady, and after that one takes up sanghanussati onward to the eighth jhana again.

This is the method one should know, a principle of doctrine. But as for the true principle regarding the recollections (anussati), it is said they can be used only up to access concentration (upacara samadhi) — this is according to the original method of anussati. Now we have adapted and modified it so jhana can arise from it. What harm is there in that — it is not wrong. We simply take the recollection and turn it into a kasina, and the matter is settled. Having done this, the mind holds steady well. If the mind has firmness, one attains the eightfold absorption

or having already attained the fourth jhana, then when the time comes to develop vipassana insight it becomes an easy matter — there is nothing difficult about it. Keep this in mind as a foundation, because there are people — those clinging to the texts — who say that none of the recollections (anussati) can become jhana except anapanasati kammatthana. We would answer them that this is true only for the recollections strictly as such. But we can adapt a recollection into a kasina; once it is a kasina, we take the Dhamma, the Buddha, the Sangha, and bring them in precisely as that kasina. Once it is a kasina, we can make even the eighth jhana arise from it — let alone the fourth jhana. This is how well the steadying works.

Well then, from here on I ask everyone: try to keep the body upright, keep the mind firm, be mindful of the in- and out-breath. When breathing in, recite 'Bud'; when breathing out, recite 'dho.' This is fine, or if anyone is accustomed to a different way, contemplate or meditate as you prefer, until you hear the signal announcing that the time is up.

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24. Dhammanussati as Vipassana Insight

For today, I ask you all to continue studying dhammanussati. Yesterday we spoke of using dhammanussati kammatthana as an object of jhana, covering both the form (rupa) jhanas and the formless (arupa) jhanas. Today we will use dhammanussati kammatthana on the side of calm (samatha) meditation as vipassana meditation.

But in order for us to develop vipassana meditation as the basis for contemplating the body as impermanent, as suffering, as not-self, first of all I ask all the Buddhist faithful to try to grasp the image of dhammanussati kammatthana as already described, letting the mind hold the mind-state as jhana first. To say it is jhana means having a firmly fixed mind-state; the mind rests in an equanimous state, a one-pointed state, having a single mind-state, and then having a mind-state empty and detached from all mind-states, having a bright, clear mind, having ease and freshness, having the mind stopped from all the various mind-states. When the mind-state is at ease, the mind then withdraws back to access concentration (upacara samadhi). The word 'withdraws' here, in truth, is spoken according to doctrine; in essence there is truly no need to withdraw. When the mind is already firmly fixed, we then think that from here on we will contemplate in this way, and the concentration lowers by itself. When the concentration lowers, the mind still retains freshness within the bounds of jhana. Now we take this dhammanussati kammatthana, which is called samatha, and turn it into vipassana insight.

First of all, we contemplate the form of the Buddha. The Buddha was an extraordinary being, supreme above all humans, superior to devas or Brahma. But His body — that is, the five aggregates — could not remain forever; it followed the law of nature: when arising occurs at the beginning, then there is change, there is illness and affliction just as with our own bodies; then old age and discomfort appear; and finally the conditioned formations of the Conqueror of Mara, the Great Teacher, the Fully Enlightened Buddha, broke apart and dissolved — we call this nibbana. While the Buddha was alive, and then when the life-formation was extinguished, we use the word nibbana — nibbana is translated as 'extinguished,' extinguished from the cycle of birth and death in samsara. The Buddha has no way to come back to be born as a human, a deva, or Brahma, or even to come close to the realms of woe — there is no such possibility; His sole abiding place is Nibbana alone.

Now we must consider that the Buddha too was a human child like us — so why then could the Buddha attain Nibbana? He and we have nothing different between us; we both have the same 32 physical characteristics

we have the same feelings and thoughts. What differs a little is the accumulation of perfections (parami): He accumulated perfections in order to attain full self-awakening (sammasambodhiñana) without needing to receive teaching, while we, as disciples, accumulate perfections in order to receive teaching. It feels as though we get a better bargain than the Buddha, because the Buddha had to search out the Dhamma Himself, with great weariness, while we merely rely on the teaching of the Blessed One who has already attained it, brought and fed to us. We simply come and eat the meal already set out before us — prepared, made well in every way. For this alone we may be said to be better off than the person who provided it for us. The food that the Buddha sought and brought for us — the most delicious food of all — is the Four Noble Truths. These Four Noble Truths the Great Sage, the Supreme Teacher, the Fully Enlightened Buddha, discovered entirely by Himself, without passing through any teacher whatsoever.

Now we come to develop dhammanussati. This truth [of suffering] is itself dhammanussati — that is, our contemplating the body of the Buddha as having arising at the beginning: He too was a child like anyone, then gradually grew up, then became a young man, then gradually, little by little, grew old, was afflicted by illness, and in the end His life-formation ended, which is called Nibbana. This shows that arising is impermanent; it is accompanied by aging, accompanied by sickness and discomfort, and has death as its end. That alone is Dhamma; it can no longer be considered buddhanussati — it must be considered dhammanussati, taking up the Buddha's body as Dhamma, proceeding according to the law of nature. Sit and contemplate: the Buddha was an extraordinary being, yet His body was still subject to this. Being the son of a king, possessing great wealth, why then was He not infatuated, enamored of physical beauty or the wealth He possessed? This is because the Great Teacher saw that it was not lasting, was cyclical — going round and round — being a cause of suffering, unable to yield any true happiness. Therefore the Blessed One sought the Dhamma that does not arise again, called moksha-dhamma — moksha-dhamma meaning the Dhamma that is liberation from birth.

Now we look at the Buddha's example: He was better than us in status, better than us in accumulated merit. Had He remained a layman He would have become a universal monarch ruling the world righteously. Having gone forth, He became the Buddha, reckoned the most eminent of all. Yet He still saw that the human body is not a good thing, that birth is not a good thing — so why should we sit and think up reasons that birth is a good thing?

for what benefit? And He Himself saw danger in the round of existence, saw that maintaining a body like this is full of suffering. What sufferings are there? We have discussed this for a long time; whoever ponders will find suffering. Any person who does not see suffering is a person still fully covered over by ignorance or delusion. The Victorious One declared that the foolish do not see suffering — why is this? Because they see suffering as happiness entirely; they still have desire within suffering, seeing it as a cause of happiness; no matter how exhausting or difficult it may be, they still see it as good all along. This is the mind-state of foolishness — ignorance closing over and covering the mind.

But the Lord of the Threefold Wisdom did not think this way. Near the dawn of the full-moon day of the sixth month, He raised His mind to vipassana insight, and saw the Four Noble Truths — that suffering is the starting point. All beings and people who are born at all, whether becoming devas or Brahma, cannot escape suffering, cannot find any true happiness. And where do all these sufferings come from? He further contemplated that they come from the cause of suffering, which is craving (samudaya) — that is, desire: wanting to be born, wanting to be beautiful, wanting to be handsome, wanting to be wealthy, wanting a great position, wanting to have power, fortune, high standing — wanting this, wanting that, but not wanting to die, not wanting to be sick, even though one must inevitably die and be sick. This desire is an extreme danger, for it closes and covers the minds of the Buddhist faithful, men and women, making them see it as good — but the Victorious One did not see it that way at all. This very desire is the condition that causes us to wander through birth and death in the round of existence — born as a human, born as a deva, rarely born as Brahma. Mostly, our births are in the realms of woe, beginning with hell; born as hungry ghosts, as asuras, born as animals — very often indeed. This shows that the realm of birth, as we wander in the round of existence, holds more suffering than happiness. If we did not desire birth at all, there would be only the greatest happiness, with no suffering mixed in. The Lord of the Threefold Wisdom, the Great Teacher, therefore contemplated that cutting off craving is good. This cutting off of craving need not be done anywhere else — it is cut at oneself, that is what matters; there is no need to go and cut it at others — others are their own affair. If we can cut off only ourselves, we cut off everyone else as well, because there is nothing in the whole world that we could be more pleased with than our own body; the thing we care about most is our own body.

How shall we cut off the body?

We sit and contemplate the body — this is dhammanussati kammatthana, all of this is entirely Dhamma — [asking] where does this body of ours come from? Looking first, we see that our body comes from the four elements: the water element, the earth element, the wind element, the fire element.

Does it remain long? Does it hold steady? We see that it cannot remain long, it has no stability, it moves toward eventual dissolution.

While it exists, is it dirty or clean? We see that it is dirty in every respect.

Is the maintaining of life full of happiness or full of suffering? Contemplating with wisdom, the mind holding jhana will see clearly that it is full of suffering.

Let us see — where in this body of ours is there anything lovable? Where is there anything worth cherishing and preserving? Looking, we see only filth throughout the body; there is nothing worth cherishing.

Then we look further: is this body of ours 'us' or not 'us'? Are we its owner, or is it the owner of us? Do we control it for all time, in every era, or does it make us stay with it for all time, in every era? Contemplating with the support of jhana power, we can see that this body is not us, not ours; it is merely a dwelling we rely on temporarily. In the end it dissolves. If we still carry this ignorance with us, we must go seek a body to be born into anew. If we happen upon a human body, that is tolerable, if it is a good person's body. If we happen instead to grasp a crippled, disabled body missing a leg, we will have a heavy burden of feeling — because relying on the desire to be born is unreliable. If unlucky, one might grasp an animal's body because of unwholesome kamma supporting it; or else one might grasp the body of a hell-being or a hungry ghost, an asura body, which is no good at all; or else one might grasp the body of a deva or Brahma, which is only temporarily pleasant — once merit and fortune run out, one falls back down again.

So it is that desiring this body brings no benefit. The body we obtain each time is not permanent, does not last forever, does not remain through every era. Our cutting off of desire — that is, craving — is accomplished precisely by cutting off our own body. Contemplate that this body arises at the beginning, then undergoes change in the middle, and finally disintegrates in the end. 'Jati pi dukkha' — birth

is suffering. 'Jara pi dukkha' — aging is suffering. 'Maranam pi dukkham' — death is suffering. Sit and reflect just on this much: that birth is suffering, aging is suffering, sickness is suffering, death is suffering. Since everything is suffering, while carrying this suffering we simply endure it, thinking it does not matter — let it suffer, never mind, so long as it stays with us for all time, in every era. But it will not even agree to stay — it breaks down. So why should we associate with it for any benefit at all? Better that we not associate with it.

How do we go about not associating with it?

We contemplate and see the fault of birth as the essential point — that it is suffering.

Having seen the fault of birth, we then try to escape birth by accepting and honoring the Buddha's teaching: to abandon evil, to do good, to purify the mind.

Cut off greed by giving alms (dana). Cut off anger by the gift of forgiveness, that is, loving-kindness (metta). Cut off delusion by constantly seeking to find the truth: that the body is suffering, that birth is suffering. Then decide specifically: whatever kamma has any connection to birth, we do not want that kamma. This means: whatever dhamma is a condition causing us to be reborn, we no longer want it. The dhamma that causes us to be born is love — love of persons, love of animals, love of possessions, holding them as 'me' and 'mine' — this shall no longer exist for us. If there is loving-kindness and compassion in the sense of caring for others through helping them, wishing them happiness — this may still exist, but we shall not cling to or hold that this person is 'our person,' this animal is 'our animal,' this object is 'our object,' this body is 'our body' — no longer. Consider that it arises at the beginning, changes in the middle, and disintegrates in the end. The Buddha spoke thus, and we believe He spoke rightly, spoke truly. Believing this, we then restrain ourselves from falling into the realms of woe — that is, keeping pure precepts (sila). With pure precepts, one may know that one is a Stream-enterer (sotapanna). But this is still not good enough — because why? Because sensual desire still exists, anger and ill-will still exist.

So we use the meditation on foulness (asubha kammatthana), contemplating together with vipassana insight, that the body is not us, not ours, and that everything in the whole world has no 'us' and no 'ours.' Why should we indulge for the sake of sensual pleasure, for the sake of intoxication with sensual pleasure, which is a condition of suffering — for what benefit? Because the body

of every person is full of filth. If we indulge in it, we are said to be deluded and infatuated with something dirty, seeing it as clean — it is something extremely disgusting. Make the mind see according to the truth, until there arises the insight of disenchantment (nibbida-ñana), having weariness with the five aggregates — that is, our own body and the bodies of others. Contemplate ourselves a great deal, that we are dirty; when we see ourselves as dirty, we will then see others as dirty too, and sexual feeling will disappear.

Then next, develop metta-brahmavihara or the color kasinas — that is, the red kasina, green, yellow, or white — any one of these, brought in to cut off the mind-state of anger, combined with the perfection of loving-kindness. Bring the bodies of people and animals to compare with our own — they are born, age, and die the same; why should we be angry or resentful toward them, for any reason? Why think of harming them for any reason? It brings no benefit — until the anger in our mind-state is extinguished. This is called being an anagami (non-returner). Just this much, in brief, may be considered sufficient; this is called developing dhammanussati as the great foundation of mindfulness, or dhammanussati kammatthana — this much is enough for one stage, that is, becoming an anagami. If we are born as a deva or Brahma, we attain final nibbana there.

But if the five aggregates still remain with us, it is still not enough, for we have cut off only the coarse defilements; there remain five more subtle defilements, namely:

Infatuation with rupa-jhana and arupa-jhana, considering them supreme, with nothing more excellent — having no self-awareness within them. We see that Nibbana is what matters, and so we do not become intoxicated in rupa-jhana or arupa-jhana; we make the mind advance further, thinking: we shall take jhana as the strength to advance into Nibbana.

Then we turn to cut off conceit (mana), the holding of self-importance — thinking 'I am better than him,' 'I am equal to him,' 'I am worse than him.' We hold that such mind-states no longer exist for us — that is, the words 'him' and 'me' do not exist. No one is 'me' or 'him' — because why? Because the body is not us, not ours; likewise for others, the body is not theirs, not their own. What we find distasteful in each other is merely distaste for the shell, distaste for what is not truly one's own possession. So, whoever may be poor, whoever may be rich, whoever may be dirty or clean, or whatever kind of animal — never mind — consider that they are all fellow beings sharing the same filth, born carrying the same filth, born carrying the same suffering; no one is better than another, no one is worse than another. All fall under the power of the natural law: being born, aging, becoming ill, and dying alike

all alike. Seeing animals, seeing people, we relate to them constantly, considering them fellow beings sharing birth, aging, illness, and death, equally dirty — until we reach a mind-state at ease, no longer holding to caste or class.

Next, cut off restlessness (uddhacca): keep the mind fixed only on Nibbana as its object, not taking auspicious signs or exciting news as significant. When people say this place is good or that place is good, never mind them — do not consider it important. The only thing that matters is whether it is good or bad within ourselves, in our own mind. If we have loving-kindness, know how to give alms, know how to help others, have pure precepts, are not intoxicated with life, not intoxicated with wealth and possessions — this is goodness. We have no mind-state scattering off toward other things; we want only to cut off the body, we hope for Nibbana specifically. Whatever mind-state anyone else says is good, we do not take it up; we have only one mind — fixing the mind exclusively on Nibbana, not clinging to the world — the whole world, that is, the deva-world, the human world, the Brahma-world — we do not cling to it. We do not cling to others, do not cling to various possessions. While alive we seek things merely for use, always thinking: whatever runs out, let it run out; when dead, it is all over — no one, when dying, can carry their wealth and possessions along. The mind is then at ease. Fixing the mind exclusively on the object of Nibbana, our mind-state becomes bright and clear, the mind-state closely unified, containing only happiness, seeing everything in the world as entirely ordinary. Heat arising in the world is considered ordinary; coolness arising in the world is considered an ordinary matter too — the mind is at ease.

After that there remains only a tiny bit — the matter of ignorance (avijja). In truth this need not even be cut, it has already all been cut away, nothing remains. Well, let us cut just a little more. Cutting ignorance means cutting desire (chanda) and lust (raga) — these have already all been cut away here. In truth, if the first nine [fetters] have been cut, all is cut; ignorance has nothing left. If we were still foolish, we could not have cut the body away, saying it is not us, not ours. This is because we already have wisdom; ignorance no longer exists; therefore we are no longer intoxicated with the five aggregates — that is, the body — not intoxicated with possessions, not intoxicated with persons, not intoxicated with life.

Now, when our mind-state reaches this point — that is, having destroyed ignorance — what feeling arises? This is the mind-state of an arahant. The feeling of an arahant: the mind-state is always normal, nothing is abnormal; no suffering can be found for an arahant. The arahant has no suffering. Bodily, we will see the arahant as suffering, but the arahant's mind has no path to suffering, because he considers it all ordinary. Seeing a bad person, he considers it ordinary — the world must have bad people. Seeing a good person...

he likewise feels it is ordinary — the world has good people too. Illness and discomfort arising in himself, he considers an ordinary matter. Being slandered and spoken ill of, he considers an ordinary matter. If the body becomes disabled, he considers it an ordinary matter.

Let me give an example of a monk. That is, the Venerable Chao Khun Thep Prasitthinayok — that is, Luang Pu Nak of Wat Rakhang, the same temple [as the author]. When he was near death, he could not sleep, and could not eat rice; he could not even swallow it. So I went in to visit him and asked, 'Luang Pu, are you sleeping well?' He said, 'Well, now they won't let me sleep.' 'They won't let you sleep — they let you lie down, but they won't let you sleep.' I asked, 'And how about eating rice?' 'Hmm, it just doesn't want to let me eat either,' he said, just like that. He said 'it' doesn't want to let him eat. So I asked, 'Luang Pu, how do you feel about it?' He said, 'It's up to it. If it wants to sleep, let it sleep; if it doesn't let me sleep, then so be it. If it wants to eat, let it eat; whether it lets me eat or not, so be it.' Even though his body was wasted and he had a severe fever, he spoke as if it were ordinary. I asked, 'Luang Pu, how do you feel about not being able to sleep or eat?' He answered, 'I don't see that it matters at all — I see it as an ordinary matter, it's its own business, not mine. Whether it sleeps or not is its own affair — if it wants to sleep, let it sleep; if it doesn't want to, never mind. When they bring rice to eat, if it wants to eat, let it eat; if it doesn't, never mind — it's simply its own affair.' I asked, 'Luang Pu, do you take your medicine?' He said, 'The medicine, I take it; when they give it to me, I take it.' 'And when you're about to take it, how do you feel?' He said, 'Well, first, it's to honor the faith [of those who give it]; second, if it can help, it relieves the discomfort — any discomfort. If it can relieve it, fine; if it can't, so be it — I don't insist that it will truly relieve it.' This is the mind-state of Luang Pu Nak of Wat Rakhang. Most of us consider that he had a mind-state equal to an arahant, because his mind-state seemed utterly unattached to anything — but whoever feels however they wish, never mind. Here we come to compare with arahants according to various accounts: at the time the Buddha was still alive, we would see that the disciples of the Great Teacher had mind-states similar to Luang Pu Nak of Wat Rakhang or Chao Khun Thep Prasitthinayok. They considered the body to have no meaning, the body to have no importance. When it was time for them to attain final Nibbana, they went to take leave of the Buddha before doing so; it seemed an ordinary matter, as with the Venerable Ananda's Nibbana — he intended to attain final Nibbana in the middle of a river, that is, with relatives on both banks, attaining Nibbana in mid-air. The Venerable Sariputta, when about to attain final Nibbana, went to take leave of the Blessed One and attained Nibbana in the room where he was born. See — they had no suffering, none...

anguish at all regarding the dissolution of the five aggregates. Now, coming to Luang Pu Nak, it is the same. We sit and observe, and reflect and contemplate whether he shows the same, or similar, signs as the noble ones of that era, and so we conclude that Luang Pu Nak is, at the very least, a genuine monk — he is certainly an ariya, though which stage exactly is uncertain. What is being taught here is to understand the mind-state: if our mind-state reaches the state of an arahant, what feeling does it have? That is, there is no rising and falling of the mind's feeling. Getting something good, only that much good is felt; getting something bad, only that much bad is felt — yet there remains a slight sense of contentment, thinking, 'oh, it's useful, it's convenient.' But the mind still always knows that 'I' and 'it' [the body] will part before long. When they part, whoever takes it wherever, never mind — the matter is finished. Our duty is merely to make use of it while it remains.

This — our developing dhammanussati kammatthana, or the Dhamma among the ten recollections — making the mind like this is called dhammanussati leading to vipassana insight. But in truth, if dhammanussati is developed and does not reach vipassana insight, it still helps fully, because vipassana insight is itself that very dhammanussati.

What has been said is so that all of you may understand. The evening session is considered study, meaning we will explain all forty kammatthana subjects, using this method of brief summarized explanation — more for some, less for others, according to what suits each particular subject — so that you have them as an ornament for the mind. Whenever something comes up to be used, whichever time it may be, you will be able to use it fully. But in quiet, solitary times such as meditation time, once the explanation is finished, practice according to your own inclination. If you are satisfied with something you are already practicing and it is going well, continue practicing that way; or if you wish to contemplate along the lines of the Dhamma just explained, you may do that too, as you prefer.

From here on, I ask everyone to try to keep the body upright, keep the mind firm, be mindful of the in- and out-breath. When breathing in, think 'Bud'; when breathing out, think 'dho.' Or think however you like, comfortably; or contemplate any one kammatthana subject as you prefer, until you hear the signal announcing that the time is up.

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25. Sanghanussati (Recollection of the Sangha)

Today we shall speak of sanghanussati kammatthana. This sanghanussati kammatthana likewise has three modes of practice, according to the traditional method of contemplating the virtues of the Sangha. This alone will lead to access concentration at most. If one holds the form of the Sangha as the object, this can reach the fourth jhana or the eighth jhana. Then, in the final stage, contemplating the Dhamma that makes one a member of the Sangha — that is, vipassana insight — this too leads to Nibbana. As for the preliminary method of practice, I will not repeat it, because it is to be practiced the same way as buddhanussati or dhammanussati kammatthana — that is, try to cut off mind-states, cut off entirely whatever mind-states we still cling to with concern.

First of all, it is said, [contemplate] the virtues of the Sangha. Contemplating the goodness of the Sangha according to the Pali texts, it is said: 'Supatipanno bhagavato savakasangho' and so on, meaning the disciple-Sangha of the Fully Enlightened Buddha, who practice well, practice rightly. As for practicing well and rightly in the way we shall follow the Sangha — how do we practice? We use a brief, summarized mind-state, enough to bring about easy understanding — not going about tracing the full formula so exhaustively that we cling to the form without flexibility, so that if we forget the form we can do nothing at all. This is not the way of a true practitioner. A practitioner must gather up what is scattered widely into a single point, and only then can we investigate and grasp it for easy benefit. So, it is said, the virtues of the Sangha are many indeed; to state them fully, they are the 84,000 units of the Dhamma (dhammakhandha) — those 84,000 units of the Dhamma are themselves the virtue of the Sangha, because the Buddha taught the Sangha to practice up to 84,000 units of Dhamma. Reduced to brevity, these come down to the Eightfold Path, beginning with right view; reducing the Eightfold Path further leaves only precepts (sila), concentration (samadhi), and wisdom (panna). When precepts, concentration, and wisdom are still too long, we reduce further to name-and-form (nama-rupa); when name-and-form is still too long, we reduce to formations (sankhara), called meritorious formations (puññabhisankhara). The word puññabhisankhara means having a mind-state that is meritorious, wholesome, at all times. This much is enough to reach Nibbana.

Reducing this too much, all of you would not understand, so let me expand a little. Reducing down to meritorious formations — how does one achieve meritorious formation? The word 'abhisankhara' here does not refer to the body; abhisankhara here refers to the mind-state. A mind-state that is meritorious means a mind-state that is clean, or a mind-state of goodness not mixed with evil at all. Our mind-state, not mixing with evil, according to the way of the noble ones called the Ariya-sangha, is

we contemplate our precepts according to our own station, keeping precepts pure. Remember this one point: precepts must be pure in every training rule. A monk has 227 precepts, all of which must be pure. In truth, purity in just these 227 rules is still not enough, because there are training rules that go further still beyond these — the training rules contained in the Patimokkha number 227; even though that may seem too few, one should still keep them pure. A novice keeps the 10 precepts pure; a layperson keeps the 5 or 8 precepts pure. If we contemplate what condition our precepts are in, and then maintain them pure with every in- and out-breath — this is called sanghanussati. This first stage is not yet the true monk, has not yet reached the true monk — this reaches only the bark of the monk [tree].

Now we come to reach the sapwood of the monk [tree]. Once precepts are held pure, then make the mind hold concentration. The word 'samadhi' means the mind fixed exclusively on what is wholesome, being a one-pointed mind-state — meaning our mind-state rests specifically within what is wholesome. One may choose from the Mahasatipatthana Sutta or from any of the forty kammatthana subjects as one likes — the result is the same. Holding this mind-state all night and all day, our mind-state does not become entangled with evil mind-states, remaining within the bounds of goodness. Then there are the four brahmavihara as appamañña (boundless states). The four brahmavihara are loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity; 'appamañña' means without limit or boundary. We maintain the four brahmavihara, this kind of goodness, without restriction to any person or animal — not choosing groups, not choosing factions, not choosing types of people or animals. We have loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity equally toward all. This is called reaching the sapwood of the Sangha — not yet the heartwood.

As for reaching the heartwood, we then contemplate that the disciple-Sangha of the Fully Enlightened Buddha who are noble ones (ariya) — the Buddha accepted them as Sangha — how did they practice? We can see that they practiced according to the stream of the true Dhamma teaching of the Lord of the Threefold Wisdom — that is, they practiced the Four Noble Truths, having the state of knowing suffering: that the five aggregates are full of suffering; there is no need to go looking for suffering elsewhere — find the suffering right in our own body. As for going to find fault ('suffering') in other people, that does not see the suffering of one's own body. The faces of villagers may be grimy, dusty, disheveled hair, unattractive complexion — we can see their faces clearly, but our own face, which may be even worse, we cannot see in return. So here we try to look at our own face clearly, whether our face is clean or dirty. This matter serves as a simile — looking at suffering is exactly the same.

First, take it as essential to see the suffering of the body — that birth is suffering. How is it suffering? There is too much to say and not enough time. Being curled up inside the mother's womb for 10 months the whole time — is that comfortable? Coming out afterward, one is struck hard by the air, by heat and cold, the whole body aching and stinging. Once born, there is hunger, there is thirst, the pain of needing to defecate and urinate, sickness and discomfort, wishes that go unfulfilled — these are all manifestations of suffering entirely. Growing up, there is one more matter — having to carry out work full of exhaustion and hardship — that too is a manifestation of suffering. Worse still, defilements incite one to seek out even more suffering: becoming a young man or woman, being alone is said not to be enough, thought too little happiness, so one strives to seek out a partner as well — this only piles on heavier suffering. Once one has a partner, it is often still not enough — one wants children, wants grandchildren, wants great-grandchildren. When the children come out, each one is full of suffering. Then sickness and discomfort afflicting the body is also full of suffering. Old age arrives at the body; the body can no longer function as it normally would; no happiness or bodily ease can be found — this too is a manifestation of suffering. In the end, separation from what is loved and cherished is a manifestation of suffering. When death arrives, we do not want to die, and that too is suffering. This is suffering in brief as described — that is all there is to it. If elaborated at length it is still suffering. Look for suffering until you find it; look for the impermanence of the body until you find it. When impermanence arises, that is suffering. In the end it all disintegrates — why be intoxicated by it?

Once we have seen suffering, we look for a way to cut off suffering. What is the cause of suffering? It is craving, that is, taṇhā — wanting to be born, wanting a husband, wanting a wife, wanting children, wanting grandchildren, wanting great-grandchildren, wanting various kinds of wealth. Wanting that knows no end is called wanting that has gone off the path and off the track — struggling to drag suffering in to fill one's heart, seeing it as happiness. This is because it relies chiefly on foolishness. The Blessed Lord and Great Teacher therefore taught us to want anew — to use wanting to cure wanting. The mind already wants; to cure it, since we cannot destroy wanting itself, we turn instead toward wanting and change what we want. Instead of wanting to be born, we want not to be born. It wanted to grow old first — we want not to grow old. It wanted to die first — we want not to die. This wanting-not-to-die, everyone wants alike. However we must want it, so that we come to want not to be born, want not to grow old, want not to die — we must have the wanting that is the wanting to cut off...

Greed is lobha; anger is dosa; delusion is moha. One cuts off greed through giving; one cuts off anger through the four brahmavihāras and the cultivation of the four kasiṇas; one cuts off delusion through sakkāyadiṭṭhi (the view of self-identity). The disciples of the Blessed Lord and Perfectly Enlightened One practiced this way, and it was through this that they became monks as the Buddha himself confirmed.

Now how do we go about cutting off delusion? Delusion alone, once cut, ends the whole matter. The cutting off of delusion that we should be able to do follows the pattern of the Noble Truths — we consider whether this body is us, or is ours. We speak of the Noble Truths every day; have we actually considered whether this body is truly us, is truly ours or not? In its true nature it is not ours. It never obeys us. We indulge it in every way, yet it never trusts us. We do not want it to grow old, yet it grows old. We do not want it to fall sick, yet it will fall sick. We do not want it to die, yet it will die. Why then sit intoxicated by it, when the body does not trust us, is not us, is not ours? Cut it off and discard it. Discard it in what way?

Take the simplest example — that of Phra Godhika. This concerns recollection of the Sangha (saṅghānussati); use the simplest, most condensed method. Take Phra Godhika as the essential example — but do not imitate what he actually did, only take the principle. Phra Godhika relinquished the five khandhas when his body fell gravely ill. He no longer had the opportunity to practice good to attain the stages of Stream-Enterer, Once-Returner, Non-Returner, or Arahant; he could only maintain the mundane jhāna states, and even those jhānas grew weak and unstable, because his body was sick. He therefore reflected thus:

This body is a fault, the body is a danger, the body is Māra. It encroaches on our mind, it destroys our goodness. We were born in the tradition of the Blessed Perfectly Enlightened One; our companions have already become Stream-Enterers, Once-Returners, Non-Returners, Arahants — yet we, who live with the Blessed Jewel Lamp, have only attained the mundane jhānas, and even these are shaky and unsteady. The reason for this is that the body is the condition, the body is the obstacle. We hold that the body is a wicked Māra, forever destroying our goodness. This body, made up of the five khandhas as it is, we no longer want it. When we die out of this present state, let the five khandhas, whatever part they may be,

whatever they may be, wherever they may reside — we do not want any of it at all. We want the capacity of the five khandhas reduced, cut so it snaps clean off. We write a bill of divorce between us, and no longer bind ourselves to the five khandhas henceforth. As for what is called the five khandhas, there shall be none of it for us again.

Having reflected in this way, he picked up a razor and cut his own throat, and died. Once dead, Phra Godhika went to Nibbāna. This state of mind that we should attain, to make the recollection of the Sangha complete and perfect, is precisely this cutting-off of the five khandhas — but not by cutting one's throat, no, that method is not to be taken. But use the same state of mind as Phra Godhika; it is a good, simple example. Keep the eyes open at every moment, not asleep, always holding the thought that this body is a danger, that this body is a wicked thief constantly trying to rob us of our happiness. We indulge it with food three times, five times a day, and still it is not enough; it still wants this and that besides, still there is suffering. Having eaten, it grows hungry; hungry, it eats again; full, then it grows hot and wants to bathe; cold, it wants to find warmth; having eaten savory food it then wants something sweet. Give it everything and still it plays tricks. Every day it falls ill again. It must carry out its business with exhaustion and hardship, yet it has not one shred of love for us. However much we care for it, it will not trust us, will not have any sympathy for us; it deteriorates all the time. Therefore, as for what is called the five khandhas, that is, this body, we will no longer keep company with it. We want only one thing: the absence of the five khandhas, that is, Nibbāna.

What is Nibbāna? The Buddha said that Nibbāna cuts off all the elements; all the clung-to material form, that is, earth, water, wind, fire, does not exist in Nibbāna; there is no body like this one. But the sense bases still exist — the sense bases being eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind. Where then does this 'body' come from? That body is a special divine body: it has eyes, ears, hands, feet, arms, legs — everything. But the bodies of devas, of Brahmas, and in Nibbāna alike lack internal organs; the internal machinery — intestines, liver, kidneys, bowels, lungs, feces, urine, blood, lymph, pus — none of that exists; it has a light quality like air, and that is the end of it. No sinews, no tendons; without sinews or tendons there is nothing to ache — where would it ache? Without a stomach to hold food, how could it feel hungry? Without nerves to sense heat and cold, how could it feel anything? Thus it is that Nibbāna feels no suffering; in the state of Nibbāna there is not even the slightest particle of suffering.

This is the cultivation of recollection of the Sangha. If one aims to bring it to jhāna level, one practices it the same way as recollection of the Buddha and recollection of the Dhamma, which have already been practiced. Once one has attained the fourth jhāna, to produce a rūpa-jhāna one raises up an image of some particular monk, whom we have fixed upon, as a kasiṇa. Once it becomes a kasiṇa, one then removes the kasiṇa and holds instead to the arūpa-jhāna as the essential point. But one must be careful here — jhāna, whether arūpa-jhāna or rūpa-jhāna, has already destroyed the goodness of many people. If one becomes lost in rūpa-jhāna and arūpa-jhāna, one comes to believe that one's mind has reached Nibbāna. This particular delusion is an extremely dangerous cause. One must always bear in mind: a mental state that is merely firmly fixed is never enough in itself; what we want is only the state of cutting-off.

Cut off beauty and loveliness, whether of people, animals, or objects. Whatever comes before the eyes, feel that there is nothing beautiful or lovely about it anywhere; find nothing good in it at all. The bodies of people and animals are full of filth, have no stability, and in the end disintegrate — why be infatuated with them? Objects are the same.

Cut off greed. Seeking a livelihood to support oneself is an ordinary matter, a duty; but the mind should not be ambitious beyond what is fitting. One does not need an occupation that goes off the path and off the track, cheating others, making things difficult for oneself — that is not to be taken; that is greed. If one is a layperson, one carries out one's affairs as right livelihood, earning a living righteously, without sin or fault, doing one's duty — but always bearing in mind that all these possessions, once one dies, are finished with; do not be attached to them or concerned for them. After death, wherever they go, it does not matter — they are not us.

Cut off anger through the power of the four brahmavihāras.

Cut off delusion through the power of sakkāyadiṭṭhi, reflecting that the body is not us, is not ours, as already described. When our mind holds this state continually, greed does not appear, ambition does not appear, attachment to our own body or to others' bodies does not appear, anger and ill will are not in the heart, nothing is seen as having essence or substance — that is, there is no delusion. That state of mind then has happiness; it truly has happiness, without suffering. Try it and see — the happiness cannot be described. If our mind has reached Nibbāna while the body still persists, there is still the feeling of cold, heat, hunger and thirst, but the heart is at ease; it treats all of it as an entirely ordinary matter. The mind's happiness cannot be put into words. This, in brief, is what may be said of the cultivation of recollection of the Sangha.

Well then, from this point on I ask every one of you to try to keep the body upright and steady the mind, maintaining awareness of the breath going in and out — do not abandon this, the ānāpānasati meditation. If you abandon it, that is the end of it. Try to keep awareness of the breath going in and out: breathing in, think 'Bud'; breathing out, think 'dho' — or recite whatever formula suits you, according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing that the time is up.

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26. Recollection of Generosity (Cāgānussati)

Next in order, this is an occasion for all the Buddhist faithful together to cultivate meditation — that is, to hold the mind in concentration and use wisdom to contemplate the five khandhas, so that the result to be gained is the liberating Dhamma, the Dhamma that is the means of escape from death, or escape from birth. Why? Because the Buddha said: birth is suffering, old age is suffering, death is suffering, separation from what is loved and cherished is suffering, grief and sorrow are suffering. All this depends on birth alone; if we were not born at all, then old age, sickness and discomfort, death, and separation from what is loved and cherished would not exist for us. Now, that we may come not to be born depends on making the mind into the ultimate mind (paramattha-citta) — this is called reaching the Dhamma, which is then ultimate Dhamma (paramattha-dhamma); if called a pāramī, it is the ultimate pāramī, the supreme pāramī; if it is a practice, it is called the ultimate practice, the supreme practice — that is, it is the control of the mind so that it remains in wholesome states.

Every day we have been studying together, starting from recollection of the Buddha. Yesterday we came to conclude with recollection of morality (sīlānussati). Today we shall speak of recollection of generosity (cāgānussati). In order to hold the mind at ease, first the Blessed Perfectly Enlightened One taught all of you to remove the hindrances first — that is, at the time we are about to cultivate concentration of mind, cut off the states of mind involving worry that are called impediments (palibodha). Think instead that at this moment we are a single individual; we have no friends, no elder or younger siblings, we have nothing at all — even this body is the same; we do not hold it to have essence or substance, to truly and seriously be ours in any way, because it has arising at the beginning, aging in the middle, and disintegration in the end. Thus this body is not a burden of ours that we need worry over excessively. Thus at this moment we are a person with no worries; we have only one task, which is to fix the mind exclusively on some one wholesome object, whether it will bring us to heaven, to the Brahma world, or to Nibbāna. Keep the heart steady and at ease, not thinking of other matters that would intrude upon the mind. From here on, please study the meditation of recollection of generosity.

The term 'cāgānussati-kammaṭṭhāna' means the recollecting of the goodness found in giving. But this virtue is not yet the act of giving itself; rather, our heart thinks that we will give, and stands ready to give at all times. Once one has given,

we do not forget it. The term 'not forgetting' here does not mean going to collect a debt, to demand repayment of merit or favor from that person; rather we simply do not forget that good deed. This is one point of attachment that the Buddha recommended we should hold, that we should think of at all times. On this the Blessed Perfectly Enlightened One raised a saying of the Buddha as confirmation: 'kammaṃ satte vibhajati' — kamma is what distinguishes beings. The word kamma means action done by body, speech uttered by voice, or thought conceived by mind. Done by body it is called bodily kamma; by speech, verbal kamma; by mind, mental kamma. In another instance the Buddha said: 'cetanāhaṃ bhikkhave puññaṃ vadāmi, bhikkhave' — Monks, I say that intention is merit; or 'cetanāhaṃ bhikkhave kammaṃ vadāmi' — he held that the setting of intention specifically is merit. Today we come to study on the level of the mind, not on the level of material things.

First, let the mind hold constantly in thought that we will use recollection of generosity to think of giving at all times. But as for this giving, we must also choose where to give, because if we take seed grain and scatter it on ground too high and dry, it will be ruined for lack of water to help it; if we scatter it into the ocean where there is too much water, it will drown. We must scatter it on ground that is just right — water not too much, not too little — so that there is no lack of the nourishment the plant requires as its food. Just as this is an analogy, we should always bear in mind that we will give alms in order to destroy greed in our own mind, and then consider carefully within the domain of the religion of the Blessed Ten-Powered Great Teacher as to where the great wellspring of water might be, where we might rely on to create good coolness, and go make merit there. This means that we have time to choose, and so the merit gained is complete and full. If we do not have time to choose, even an unvirtuous person we may still give to; but having given, even if the result is not full measure, it is still said that we have given — given willingly, given out of the wish to help — and that too becomes a factor cutting off greed all the same.

Now as for how one actually cultivates the recollection of generosity in practice: one takes hold of the mind to recall that, ever since we were born, we have given alms to people, given alms to animals, offered alms to the monk-disciples of the Blessed One, in whatever manner we may have done so. Take hold of the mind and recall the object given, recall the act of giving that we performed, recall the person who received it; keep it always in mind that this deed we have indeed already done. As an example — the faithful who came together to build the Luang Phor Pan Disciples' Center at Wat Bang Nom Kho — this does not mean that one must build here, specifically at this place, in order to gain merit. We happen to live near this place; we

think that all these things among which we are sitting — this side as well as that side — are our own property. In what sense are they our property? Because of joining together to build, building it up into goodness, into a place of convenient and comfortable dwelling. When cultivating meditation with a quiet mind, the mind then takes hold of that mental image, whichever one we are satisfied with in that area, and raises it up into the thought: these material objects or dwelling-places, all of them, are the handiwork of us who helped build them together, who joined in building them; we regard them as our own property. Taking hold of some particular image so that this feeling arises in the mind — this, they call a kasiṇa. Making the recollection of generosity into a kasiṇa in this way, and keeping the mind contemplating it continuously until that image loosens into a white color, then becomes crystal, then becomes the morning star — holding the mind well fixed like this is called bringing the recollection of generosity up to the fourth jhāna, as a rūpa-jhāna. This we can do. If we want it to become an arūpa-jhāna, we take up that same image to hold the fourth jhāna as normal, and once it is bright and clear we then discard that entire state, considering that the image we have been maintaining is still a condition for suffering, because it still involves arising; we do not want arising, so we use the arūpa-jhāna instead. With the mind holding the fourth jhāna, we then contemplate four things, namely:

Ākāsānañcāyatana: contemplating that space is vast without limit or measure.

Viññāṇañcāyatana: the object of consciousness is likewise too vast to be fixed or measured.

Ākiñcaññāyatana: whatever exists, we treat as though it did not exist — that is, having no interest at all in material objects, persons, or animals; though they exist, treat them as though they did not. As Luang Phor Kob of Wat Tham Sarika did — no matter who came or went, however many, he paid it no attention at all, feigning to know and see nothing. People who went to see him sometimes waited three or four days, sometimes he did not say a single word. This is called using the sphere of nothingness and the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception jhānas.

Once the sphere of nothingness has become the fourth jhāna, one then takes up neither-perception-nor-non-perception: one has memory and recollection, yet acts as though one were a person with no memory at all, as though one knew nothing whatsoever. This too Luang Phor Kob of Wat Tham Sarika did. However cold or hot it was, he paid no mind, lying still. When it was bitterly cold, villagers would bring cloth to cover him; a thief would come and pull it away, and he said nothing about it. He lay still, still having the sensation, but keeping his mind at ease as though there were no feeling at all, treating it as an entirely ordinary matter.

This rūpa-jhāna or arūpa-jhāna has caused a great many people to be mistakenly deluded into thinking they have reached Nibbāna. Here we make a kasiṇa, or make the recollection-of-generosity meditation into a kasiṇa and then into an arūpa-jhāna.

If we wish to think of taking recollection of generosity as insight-knowledge (vipassanā-ñāṇa) in order to reach the path and fruit of Nibbāna, it is not difficult. We look at the object of the alms we gave, and consider the person to whom we gave, who received the offering from us. At the moment they received it they may have had a bright and radiant appearance, with lovely and attractive looks; over a long time we will see that decay arises little by little. The support of the alms we gave does not mean that it will keep them young forever; it is only a means of staving off the painful feelings that will arise for them, for a certain time. If the support runs out, painful feeling will then arise.

Now let us look at buildings and houses from ancient times, built of laterite, huge and very sturdy, not likely to collapse — things from the Ayutthaya and Sukhothai periods — they have nearly all crumbled away now, with nothing remaining visible; what is left is utterly pitiful ruins, and nothing can be done to restore them. So too we see that the buildings we build and offer to the Sangha in the Buddhist religion must have this same nature. When the condition of change and self-destruction becomes apparent, we should not be troubled by it, but let it be as it will — repair what can be repaired, do what can be done, and let go of what cannot be done; if there is no fund, no means, then let it be. Given that those solid objects still grow old and worn and eventually crumble away, let us now compare this to our own body. Our body is not solid like that; it is soft and yielding, aching all over — but in the end we come to consider that, since those things cannot endure, our body likewise cannot endure. In truth we want the body to endure, but it cannot, because this is a matter of natural law that we cannot escape. That the Blessed Perfectly Enlightened Great Teacher taught us to reflect and see that this body is not us, is not ours; we do not exist within the body, the body does not exist within us — these things are true. Here we take the offered object, that is, the buildings and various facilities, as sturdy as they are, to compare that once built they grow old, they deteriorate — where then will our body endure? Since the body cannot endure, it becomes a condition requiring us to seek further rebirth. And how does that rebirth come about? The condition that causes us to be reborn — think of where we would be reborn if we were reborn. If reborn as a human, we would have hardship such as this; reborn as a deva or Brahma, once merit and pāramī run out, we must fall back down to become a human, an animal, or a hell being — it is not certain. But the final destination we want is Nibbāna. Let the mind fix exclusively on Nibbāna as its object.

Once the mind has fixed exclusively on Nibbāna as its object, how are we to reach Nibbāna? Let us sit and consider — where exactly does the path to Nibbāna lie?

1. Lobha — cut off greed 2. Dosa — cut off anger 3. Moha — cut off delusion

All three of these — where do we cut them off? They are cut off at sakkāyadiṭṭhi — the contemplation of the body as not being us, not being ours. We use wisdom to contemplate that this body is merely the four elements come together in assembly, with a lubricant to keep it functioning, namely food, and whatever is beyond the capacity to be maintained is spoiled matter, which is destroyed and discarded — such as feces, urine, pus, sweat and grime, and so on. Once these have flowed out and become filth, we throw them away, paying no attention to that condition. Even our own body — we pay no attention to however it may be; if it falls ill we treat it, and if it recovers, it recovers, if not, let it be. Our mind is set exclusively on one thing alone: Nibbāna. Once everything is seen as not us, not ours, we make it into something of substance and value by holding in mind that this is how a person can reach Nibbāna.

1. Cutting off greed — how do we cut it off? Let us sit and think this through, consider it carefully. Greed is cut off through giving. Wanting truly pulls things in toward oneself, but giving pushes them back out. However often we are able to give alms, however much ease of mind we have in doing so, that shows the level our pāramī has reached. If our state of mind today is one of constant readiness to help others, then at this moment your mind has already become the ultimate mind (paramattha-citta).

The second matter — here we come to another step toward reaching Nibbāna; we have taken only three steps so far. The second point, cutting off anger: we sit and cultivate meditation to still both cause and effect, spreading loving-kindness in all directions, that we shall bear no enmity, no danger toward anyone, and resolve to hold the state of concentration, that is, loving-kindness among the four brahmavihāras, as a constant state. In this way anger and ill will can be destroyed and dispelled.

As for delusion, not much more is needed. When we contemplate the body as having the nature of certain collapse, not lasting, not permanent, the heart begins to ease. We think that even our own body we cannot take with us — how much less any other external possessions? When we die, can we take them along? But the goodness that the Blessed Perfectly Enlightened Great Teacher has given us is of great benefit, in that we believe

the Blessed One's word that we shall enter Nibbāna in this very lifetime. After that, we set our mind and face firmly toward building goodness in the matter of recollection of generosity — putting food in monks' bowls in front of the house sometimes, taking offerings to monks at the temple sometimes; when poor and needy people come, whatever we have that we can share and divide, we share it with them as is fitting. The heart then begins to feel at ease, the mind has happiness. Relying on the pāramī of giving, or this recollection of generosity, as the foundation that leads oneself to reach Nibbāna, whether through the fourth jhāna or the eighth jhāna, either is possible. This is something to be studied and kept in mind. If all of you the Buddhist faithful do not study and retain all forty subjects of meditation, it will bring difficulty.

Well then, the time for speaking has long since run out. From here on, I ask all of you the Buddhist faithful to try to hold the body upright, steady the mind firmly, maintain awareness of the breath going in and out; when breathing in think 'Bud', when breathing out think 'dho'. Hold the mental state fixed on this alone, nothing else; do not go thinking about what path or fruit might come of it — do not think of that at all, because at this time this is the mental state we want to be quiet and still, to become one-pointedness of mind. Now then, from here on I ask everyone to hold the body upright, steady the mind firmly, maintain awareness of the breath going in and out, using your chosen formula of recitation and contemplation according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing that the time is up.

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27. Recollection of Devas (Devatānussati)

Today you will all have the opportunity to study meditation subjects in order. Previously we spoke of recollection of generosity; today we shall speak of recollection of devas. In sum, of the six recollections, we have covered 5 of them as already described, and today one more, making 6 in total. The Buddha said these are suitable for a person of faith-temperament (saddhā-carita), that is, one whose mind readily accepts and reveres. Therefore the Blessed Great Teacher provided meditation subjects specifically for those of faith-temperament — that is, for those who already have faith, to try to redirect that faith to remain within the bounds of goodness, not to believe carelessly in just anything, but to believe in the goodness of the Buddha, of the Dhamma, of the Sangha, of morality, of charity — cutting off greed is an excellent goodness, a condition making it easy to reach Nibbāna.

For this sixth subject, the Blessed Great Teacher recommends the use of recollection of devas. The term 'devatānussati' means recalling the goodness of devas as one's object; 'anussati' means recollecting repeatedly. Let us sit and look together at the goodness of devas. How do devas act, that they are said to be good? Why did the Buddha have us hold devas in esteem? The Buddha already exists — why not recommend reverence for the Buddha alone? This is because the Buddha, being omniscient, truly understood that it is not possible to force everyone's mind to grasp Nibbāna directly and exclusively from the start — because people's strength of mind, or strength of pāramī, is not equal. The Dhamma-holding Blessed One therefore used a method of gradual accommodation, having one work first on the lower level of one's mind — that is, to recall the goodness of devas and then practice as devas do; upon death one can then become a deva. Now, devas are said to dwell in the sensuous heavens (kāmāvacara); if one can become a deva in the sensuous heavens, one can then become a Brahma, for it is only one further step upward to become a Brahma. Then, once one has become a Brahma, one can go to Nibbāna, because moving up just a little further leads to Nibbāna. Here one sees the great wisdom of the Blessed Conqueror-of-Māra, Perfectly Enlightened Great Teacher. This has been stated briefly and must be condensed, as time is limited.

For this recollection of devas, the Buddha has us recall the goodness of devas, but not to fix the mind on an image of a deva — thinking that deva is beautiful, this deva is beautiful, that celestial maiden is beautiful, this celestial maiden is beautiful — not that at all; nor that such-and-such a deva has a crystal palace of 7 kinds of gems, or 3 kinds of gems,

or 5 kinds of gems — not that either. Recollecting devas, taking devas as one's mental object, means grasping the heart of the devas to make use of it, so that we too may become devas. That heart of the devas consists of two things, which are Dhamma — called hiri and ottappa, said to be the deva-dhammas, that is, the qualities that make a person into a deva. The qualities that make a person into a deva have two points: hiri on the one hand, ottappa on the other. Hiri means shame at wrongdoing; ottappa means fear of the consequences of wrongdoing bringing suffering as its result. A person who upholds these two virtues can become a deva with ease, and a deva of a high order.

As for the Buddha having us know the heart of the devas, or the qualities that make a person a deva, having us recall the devas — even the earth-bound devas (bhummadevatā) as well, the ones for whom we together raise up spirit-house shrines. In truth we tend to think of them as owners of the land, but in truth that is not so. The guardian spirit is called a bhummadevatā, which means a deva of little merit and little store of pāramī, whose dwelling is at ground level. Raising a spirit house does not mean that a deva will come to live upon that spirit house; it is only that we express our reverence for the deva. As for raising a spirit house, if we pay respect to the guardian spirit or the earth-deva as though he had come to serve as a watchman guarding the house, this does not reach the point of truth. Whenever we see the shrine of an earth-deva, we should instead think: this being was born as a deva — not aging, not sick, not dying, not ill, not weary, without burdens, need not cook rice or fish, need not farm or trade, need not hold government office or take employment. There is no deterioration of the body; there is only happiness. Excessive heat, excessive cold do not exist for devas — there is only coolness. Whenever we look and see the shrine of a deva or an earth-deva, think this way, and then think further that the goodness of being a deva — even the lowliest deva at the back of the line — is still better than us who are at the head of the line among humans. Those at the head of the human line are kings or presidents, called greater than all people in that nation, yet they too have old age, sickness, death, thirst, friction with various emotions, sometimes satisfied, sometimes not, suffering all the time, deterioration, restlessness, and death in the end. But devas do not have this. All they have is passing away when their store of merit and pāramī is exhausted; in ordinary times a deva has happiness. This is the raising of the spirit-house shrine — if you are to pay respect to the guardian spirit, please pay respect in this manner.

Let us continue looking at how one can become a deva. The truly essential point for becoming a deva of the good sort is having hiri, shame at wrongdoing. Try to consider — of everything called wrongdoing, we should feel shame at it,

and ottappa, dreading that the result of wrongdoing will come to weigh upon the heart and give rise to suffering. Wherever wrongdoing enters, it creates suffering there; it can find no happiness of body or mind at all. These two points — shame at wrongdoing, and dread of the result of wrongdoing. When we both feel shame and fear toward wrongdoing, we cannot do wrong, whether in private or in public; we surely cannot do it — we are ashamed, and not only ashamed but fearful as well. Such a person, ashamed of and afraid of wrongdoing, dares not do wrong — what then remains? Since we do not do wrong, only goodness remains. Our state of mind has only these two possibilities; it accepts one of two states — if it does not accept wrongdoing, it accepts goodness.

Now, when our state of mind does not accept wrongdoing, only goodness specifically remains — this accords with the Pali passage where the Buddha said: 'sabbapāpassa akaraṇaṃ' — that all of you should do no wrong whatsoever. This cultivation of recollection of devas falls within the Buddha's teaching that the Blessed Perfectly Enlightened One established as the constitution of the religion: 'sabbapāpassa akaraṇaṃ' — do no wrong at all; and then 'kusalassūpasampadā' — cultivate only goodness. Cultivating recollection of devas according to the original pattern of recollection, we sit and reflect, thinking constantly that the lowest level of goodness bringing happiness is that of devas; a bit higher is Brahma; the highest is Nibbāna. At this moment we intend to go to Nibbāna, but have we yet reached the level of goodness of a deva? This is a measure of our own heart; we must always measure it. The Buddha said: 'attanā codayattānaṃ' — admonish yourself by yourself. Then sit and think: well now, are we as good as a deva yet? We intend to go to Nibbāna — where exactly is a deva's goodness? A deva's goodness lies in not doing wrong, out of shame, being one who feels shame, ashamed of wrong and fearful of wrong, a coward who does not want to do wrong, afraid of wrongdoing. Now then, is our heart yet equal to the heart of a deva? All wrongdoing — in the matter of precepts, whether monk, novice, or layperson alike — staying within the bounds of one's own precepts according to one's duty. What is called wrong specifically regarding precepts is the boundary of the Buddhist religion; we do not transgress it. Nor do we transgress the customs and traditions of each nation, each language, each group, each community we belong to. We do not transgress the laws of the land — that is, we do not act willingly against them. If we feel that we are about to transgress the laws of the land, customs and traditions, or precepts, this sense of shame will appear; we feel a trembling dread of the consequence of breaking precepts, traditions, and the laws of the land. This is what is called stepping toward the state of being a deva — we feel shame, and then fear, and refuse to act in that way, that is, refuse to transgress. When our heart abides specifically in this manner, we then hold in mind that

acting in this way, we can become devas. And if all of you can do this truly well, then it is not merely an earth-bound deva you become — feeling real shame at wrongdoing, real dread of the results of wrongdoing, holding the mind fixed upon the mind at all times. This is called cittānupassanā within the Great Foundations of Mindfulness (mahāsatipaṭṭhāna). If we cultivate along this line, each morning we look at our own mind and ask: well now, from yesterday morning to this morning, have we been shameless or hard-hearted at all? That is, has there been any moment when we transgressed hiri and ottappa — any moment when we felt no shame at wrongdoing, any moment when we felt no dread of its results? Is there any such moment? Sit and take hold of this state of mind to know it. If it happens that such a lapse occurred, then resolve anew: today, throughout the whole day, we will not allow wrongdoing to possess our heart, because it would become a condition leading to the lower realms. Reflecting on the mind continuously in this way is called cultivating recollection of devas. If you cultivate recollection of devas in this manner using a light degree of concentration, your mind enters access concentration (upacāra-samādhi); if you reflect and your mind holds steady at just this level, then upon death you become a deva — and it has already been said that one whose mind has reached access concentration can become a deva, or even one with momentary concentration (khaṇika-samādhi) can become a deva. If we fix the mind specifically on hiri and ottappa and it hits the mark precisely, the Blessed Buddha himself said one can become a deva in this way — and a deva of a fine order at that.

If we cultivate recollection of devas, holding to hiri and ottappa, reflecting and guarding constantly, then over a long time the state of mind becomes habitual. At first one must be careful — careful in the morning, careful at midday, careful at night until one falls asleep, watching front and back, careful in speech, action, and thought, lest they incline toward wrongdoing. Doing this often, it becomes habitual. It is at the point of habituation, dear Buddhist faithful, that whether sitting, standing, or walking, whatever one is doing, the state of mind maintains itself as normal — it becomes automatic: unwilling to speak wrong, unwilling to do wrong, unwilling to think wrong; the mind holds itself steady. No matter who is being noisy, chaotic, frantic, shouting and clamoring, our heart does not incline toward wrongdoing, does not waver toward the state of wrongdoing. In this way the Blessed Perfectly Enlightened One said: because you have reflected only on goodness, that is, hiri and ottappa, or avoidance of the results of wrongdoing, dread of the results of wrongdoing, your state of mind becomes jhāna. The word 'jhāna' here means that the state of mind maintains itself constantly; 'constantly' means that once we are free of other burdens, the mind maintains itself in this way, guarding against wrongdoing, the mind steady, refusing to transgress anything called wrongdoing. The state of mind is then at ease and happy, the heart happy throughout the night and throughout the day, with the pride of thinking: at this time we are good, we are clean enough; our heart is clean in accordance with what the Blessed Jewel Lamp has

Teaching: a comfortable mood, the mind becoming jhana — once the mind is content it becomes jhana, and when we die, where would it go? Instead of remaining at the level of a deva we would already have risen further, to Brahma. This is devatanussati (recollection of the devas); mere recollection, they say, gives only access concentration (upacara-samadhi). If we do not know how to do it, this is all we get. But if we have even a little understanding, we can go on to become a Brahma. That is, we hold the mind's mood so that it stays fixed all day and all night: we refuse to let the mind bend toward evil, we watch over it — when about to speak we guard the mouth, when about to act we guard the body, when about to think we guard the mind. The mind stays constantly established in goodness — this is called holding jhana, and we go on to become a Brahma.

Now, once the mind holds jhana, it is only one step further to Nibbana. We sit and consider: all the evils that the Lord who Conquered Mara forbade, we have already abandoned every one. And the Lord who is Well-Gone Supreme said further — sacittapariyodapanam, purify your own mind — but in truth we already abide in hiri and ottappa, that is, dread of evil and fear of evil, until the mood of mind becomes jhana, and it is already clear. The mood of mind is like a jewel fit for the development of vipassana. We sit and consider: whether being a deva or being a Brahma, whenever our store of merit and perfections runs out we must fall and be reborn as a human being again. The highest good is Nibbana. How is it done? We resolve: having already kept goodness up to the level of Brahma, the Lord of the Blazing Lamp (the Buddha) said we need not be reborn — we shall go to Nibbana. So we cut off the five aggregates and cast them away.

Now that the mind is clean, the mind is pure, the mind holds firm with strength, this is not hard to do. We resolve to cut off sakkaya-ditthi (belief in a self-body), holding that the human body is base, full of filth, full of foulness, full of suffering, full of decay, full of restlessness, full of sickness and disease. However much it is indulged it never holds steady, no constancy can be found in it. Since it is impermanent, it holds nothing but suffering, and in the end it disintegrates. What benefit is there in sitting infatuated, hoping in this body? The body is the four elements — water, earth, wind, fire — a temporary dwelling, a cause of suffering. If we still crave, that is, wish to be reborn again, we wish for suffering. Right now we have already become a deva, we have already become a Brahma, we have goodness and happiness in the status of deva or Brahma — why then would we wish to come back down and be reborn to suffer again? So we must fix the resolve firmly: that whatever is called a person made up of the five aggregates shall no longer exist for us in future. We will let this be the last life of our folly; henceforth the folly of wishing to have the five aggregates — that is, a body like this — again shall be no more. We want only one thing: Nibbana. And then...

Gathering the strength of mind to reach Nibbana — now it is easy because the mind has already become good, it is clean. Then we consider: greed, covetousness, is a cause of uncleanliness — do we want it? For one who has dread and fear (of wrongdoing), it is already cut off, greed is already cut off. There is contentment, satisfaction with the wealth we have obtained only by our own honest effort — that is, obtained without cheating or defrauding anyone. Then we look more closely and see that all this wealth is not truly a cause of goodness; it is useful only while we have a body, but it is a cause of suffering — we must worry, must guard, must jealously protect it all the time. So it is not true happiness after all. We set down this burden — not by throwing it away, but we must still seek it as our duty, having enough to eat and use, but the mind is not attached. Whenever we die, let it be; wherever it goes, let it go; once dead, that's the end — we do not even concern ourselves with our own body.

Hatred, anger — this is a cause of suffering. Why be angry? Anger destroys the mind, making it abnormal, that is, it destroys the happiness of the mind. The mood of anger is a mood that burns and produces heat. At worst, the mood of anger becomes a source of danger and harm to oneself. Every person who is born falls sick; every person who is born dies — full of suffering, nothing in it is happiness. Why should we bother with anger? Apart from not being angry, there is loving-kindness and compassion — love and pity — to take its place. Such a mood is happy. This is how we destroy anger, by the power of metta, one of the brahmaviharas — that is, compassion and pity. Our mind holds this mood all day.

Next we destroy the last foundation, delusion — that is, seeing clearly that the body is full of suffering, the world is full of filth, no true, certain constancy can be found in it. We seize the mind and cut off the mood of chanda, that is, the wish to be reborn as a human being, reborn as a deva, reborn as a Brahma. We have a wish only for Nibbana. We cut off raga, lustful delight, seeing that the human world is beautiful, the deva world beautiful, the Brahma world beautiful — all three beautiful. In truth there is beauty in them, but it is not constant beauty, not eternal, not lasting through every age. Even a tree is a tree that falls and struggles up again, having to be replanted often. What has beauty that is truly permanent and lasting is Nibbana alone. We fix the mind only there. We shall not be infatuated with any possessions, whether living or non-living things — even with our own body. We have no wish to keep ruling over it any longer. Whenever we die, we are finished with it, and the mind is happy.

When there is no greed, there is happiness of mind; when there is no anger, no ill-will, there is no distress; the restlessness of the mind does not arise; the mind is at ease. We do not cling even to the body, thinking it is 'us' or 'ours.' And once we no longer cling to the body alone, letting go of the body alone is as good as letting go of everything else in the world. Infatuation does not arise. With just this much, reaching Nibbana is not so difficult. It is not difficult because devatanussati has already made our mind unusually clean — it is already very clean. The Lord of the Blazing Lamp taught, as a starting point, that in devatanussati one should recall the virtues of the devas as the object of meditation. If we are a little foolish, we might think: my, is the Buddha teaching too low a level? Why not teach directly toward Nibbana alone? This is because the Lord who Conquered Mara understood people's dispositions: those who have faith need something to serve as a tool to support them in reaching heaven, reaching the Brahma world, and then reaching Nibbana.

Now then, all of you — as for the practice of any and every kammatthana (meditation subject), if one is skillful, one can take up that very meditation subject as both samatha and vipassana-nana, helping one to reach Nibbana specifically through it. If truly practiced, a single meditation subject is of benefit all the way to Nibbana.

Now then, from here on — this has been explained so as to be understood as study, but having heard it, it is also good to put it into practice. If this devatanussati meditation is used every day, then the matter of Nibbana becomes an easy thing. As has already been said: if the mind is clean, that alone leads to Nibbana.

From here on, may everyone sit with the body straight, keep the mind firm. This part now is important — it cannot be neglected. Note the in-breath and out-breath, use the recitation-word, and contemplate as one's disposition inclines, until the signal sounds telling that the time is up.

* * *

28. Kayagatasati

From here on, resolve to study the meditation subjects in sequence. Today I will speak on the meditation of kayagatasati (mindfulness of the body). Developing any meditation subject whatsoever always has the result of bringing the mind to concentration, but the special result depends on the power of that particular meditation subject. For us to truly develop a meditation subject well, we must be one whose mood conquers one's own mind, not one who is defeated. The word 'conquer' here refers to the development of samatha meditation: we want the mind to become concentrated. When the mind grips one or another mood, let it remain fixed in that mood — not letting other moods come in to disturb the mind. And keep to time as appropriate, fixing a definite period. We shall not allow other moods to come and disturb the mind, and we truly keep the mood steady according to that — maintaining the mood constant like this is what is called being a good practitioner, and only then will one succeed. As for the vipassana side, one uses wisdom to contemplate and find the truth of the five aggregates, seeing that we must be born, age, sicken, and die as a matter of course, because out of foolishness we refuse to accept and honor the law of what is true. Therefore we must always have the mood that conquers the mind, generate wisdom, contemplate to find the truth. When we find the truth, we accept and honor the law of what is true, and have the mood of emptiness — that is, letting go of the five aggregates, holding that they are not us, not ours; we are not within the five aggregates, the five aggregates are not within us. Whenever we can let go of the five aggregates, at that moment we reach Nibbana.

This speaks to the ordinary rule that one cannot succeed in developing a meditation subject because the mind does not love the good; the mind does not hold its mood. One recites 'Buddho, Dhammo, Sangho' and in a moment the current of mind is sent off elsewhere, allowing another mood to come and overwhelm the mind. This is what we call surrendering to defilement. If the mind is scattered and cannot hold steady like this, wherever one goes to seek a teacher, one cannot succeed. Whether one succeeds or not depends on oneself.

For today I will speak next on the kayagatasati meditation subject. In kayagatasati meditation, the Buddha has us contemplate our own body as the object. This meditation subject destroys the power of raga-carita (lustful temperament); it is one of the 11 subjects that destroys the love of beauty and adornment. One of raga-carita temperament has the mood of loving beauty and adornment, that is, a mood that constantly deceives one's own mind, because everything in this world, whether living things or non-living things, nothing is truly beautiful, nothing is truly lovely — it is all full of filth. Before we come to see other things as...

filthy, we must first see through our own selves. Whatever other people are like, that is their business — they may see themselves as clean, they may see themselves as dirty, they may see themselves as beautiful and lovely, however they like — never mind them. Do not let the mind get entangled with that; better that we sit and examine our own selves, as the Buddha said:

'Atthi imasmim kaye' — there exists in this body — 'kesa, loma, nakha, danta, taco' and so on — hair of the head, body hair, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, liver, kidneys, intestines, lungs, new food, old food, feces, urine, blood, lymph, pus, marrow, phlegm, saliva, and so on. To put it simply, one need not merely sit reciting the formula for enjoyment. This chant is heard recited by monks all the time; people recite it glibly like parrots or mynah birds, with no benefit at all. In truth, this formula of the 32 parts is meant so that the Buddha has us contemplate that they are filthy and foul, without the mind clinging to them. Reciting it until it is fluent on the tongue, and then chanting it merely by the habit of fluency, has no result. There is one result — that we can memorize it — but if, having memorized it, we do not bring it in to contemplate our own body so as to see it accordingly, then it produces no benefit.

The way to produce benefit is to sit and consider:

Is the hair clean or dirty? Is the body hair clean or dirty? Are the nails clean or dirty? Is the skin clean or dirty? Is the flesh clean or dirty? Going beyond the flesh, there is feces, urine, blood, lymph, pus, phlegm, fat, saliva, and then the large and small intestines, new food, old food, liver, kidneys, intestines, lungs — try sitting and considering which of these is clean. Bring wisdom in to contemplate and seek the truth; we will know that all these things are truly filthy. At whatever moment our mind sees that our own body, or the body of another person, is full of filth according to the truth — this matter needs no further explanation, because we already know it. But at whatever moment we still see it as clean, at that moment our mind enters the lower realms (apaya-bhumi), showing that it has become the mind of a hell-being, not the mind of a deva. Why is that? Because a hell-being is foolish, having an unwholesome mood — akusala means not clever; not clever means foolish. Its things are visibly filthy, yet it still thinks they are clean; its things are base, yet we see them as good. Such a mood of mind is the mood of the lower realms — do not go anywhere near Nibbana with that; one cannot even reach heaven or remain human, because the mood of the mind is defiled.

Since our body is full of filth, just consider — pick up, say, one thing: the saliva in our mouth. We may swallow it, or hold it in the mouth, but once spat out, our hand cannot bear to touch that saliva. That...

shows whether it is dirty or clean. The food we are about to eat, we select and select again, taking only the best, best cooked, cleanest — but the part that becomes waste and comes flowing out, which we call feces, we cannot even touch. Is it clean or dirty? The water we are about to drink, we must choose water that is clean, free of disease — at best we drink distilled water, thinking it very clean — but the water the body does not need and drains out and discards, that is, the excess it discards, which we call urine, we do not want to touch with our hand; we consider it dirty. Now, the blood, lymph, and pus present in the body are things we wish to nourish so the blood will be good, so the body will look fine, so the body will be strong — but as soon as blood flows out of the body we feel disgust at its fishy stench, unwilling to touch it, calling it dirty. Where are all these things? Are they in our body, or where are they? Did we bring them from somewhere else, or how?

Sit and consider by the power of wisdom, seeing according to the truth. This meditation subject is the most important subject that cuts off raga, lustful attachment, and is a meditation that every arahant must pass through. Whichever arahant it is, if one is to be a Noble One, that is, from the level of anagami upward, if anyone says they never passed through this meditation subject, do not believe them — it is certainly impossible. Hence it is classed as a major foundational meditation subject, one that the Lord, the Great Teacher of the Three Worlds, held to be important. Therefore, whether monk or novice, entering the Buddhist monkhood, the preceptor teaches the taca-pancaka-kammatthana, the five items: hair of the head, body hair, nails, teeth, skin, and so on. On that day the teaching is given in brief because time is short; in truth it teaches all 32 parts, to see them as filthy things; the reason only 5 items are taught is because of what is visibly evident. Hair — if it were truly clean, one would not need to wash it, comb it, bleach it, rinse it, or scrub it. Leave it as it is and see if it holds up — after just seven or eight days it stinks so that even a vulture would tear at it, unbearable. This shows that hair is dirty. And in truth, hair cannot actually rot, because it is a solid substance with no part that water can seep into — yet it still becomes dirty, because sweat and grime flowing from the body come to cover it. If a thing of this kind can become dirty, flesh and skin are dirtier still.

Why do we contemplate seeing things as dirty? It is to contemplate and cut off the love/attachment by which we see things as beautiful, lovely, clean...

Contemplating in this way, the truth is really there; it makes the mind know the law of what is true. There is no need to go seeking any textbook anywhere. If in doubt, spit out saliva, then put your hand in and smear it around, then swallow it again — if you can do that, then it is clean. And as for urine coming out — since we consider that the water we drink should be chosen as the cleanest — when urine comes out, can it be taken back in and drunk again? If it can be drunk, then it is clean; if it cannot be drunk, then it is dirty. Food is chosen to be the very best, cooked the very best, free of disease, a clean food — then as for the residue that is excreted, try taking it back in to eat again, can you or can't you? If you cannot, then it is dirty. And where are all these things? They are in the body. Since our own body is dirty, how could another person's body be clean anywhere? The reason we are told to contemplate ourselves as most important is that ordinarily we never look at ourselves — we only ever look at other people, thinking that we ourselves are excellent and supreme in every way.

When we contemplate the body as a filthy thing, this is called the kayagatasati meditation subject. This meditation subject should be used with every in-breath and out-breath, because it is an important subject. If we see that the body is filthy, feel weariness with the body — we see our own body as filthy, we see others' bodies as filthy too, let it be truly filthy — but use recollection to draw it in, use wisdom to contemplate and see according to the truth so that disgust arises, which is called nibbida, weariness. If the mind holds to this constantly, at all times, whenever we see our own body, whenever we see another's body, we see it as filthy, repulsive, foul, not a lovable thing — this is called having fully attained this meditation subject, called samatha-bhavana. When the mood catches hold of the point of samatha-bhavana, if it can be sustained constantly, all day, whenever one sees, one sees it as filthy at that very moment — this we call the first jhana, not merely access concentration. If at some moments one still sees it as beautiful and clean, this will not do — there is no partial credit given; if this were an examination, it would be considered entirely unusable, the mind still very weak, not yet reaching the point of being wholesome. Sometimes seeing it as clean, sometimes seeing it as dirty — this is called not being able to succeed, not yet having advanced even to the elementary level. By the proper standard, one must see it as dirty at all times, with no mood of fondness, because one sees it as filthy — we do not want filthy things. If the mind can hold like this at all times, then it is said that we have reached this meditation subject. Whenever we see, whenever we see our own body, whenever we see another's body, at that very moment we feel weariness, feel disgust at that very moment; let disgust be constant, and let it be genuine disgust, not merely using recollection as a tool...

Merely recollecting that teachers or the Buddha taught and told us the human body is repulsive, filthy, while inwardly a feeling of love and longing still arises — this will not do. One must genuinely see it as repulsive. When the mood of disgust appears in this way, this is called the mood of samatha-bhavana appearing.

Now we make this meditation subject into vipassana-bhavana. Every samatha subject can become vipassana; they must go together. If they do not go together, one cannot succeed. We sit and contemplate what the Buddha said:

The physical selfhood that has arisen is anicca — no constancy can be found in it. Dukkha — full of suffering. Anatta — it disintegrates.

We sit and contemplate: is this body, full of filth, nicca (constant) or anicca (inconstant)? Nicca means constant; anicca means inconstant. In truth, filthiness is nicca — that is, constant; it is filthy as its normal state, from the day of birth to the day of death, the body has never once been clean. We might argue that bathing and washing with soap cleanses the body well — but that is only the outer skin. As for the feces, urine, blood, lymph, and pus present within the body, can they all be squeezed out entirely? They cannot be removed, so it remains filthy at all times. And this body, full of filth — does it hold steady? Does it have strength, is it whole and stable, or does it have decay and deterioration as its normal state? Here we turn to vipassana-nana: that it is filthy, and so we merely endure it — that is, we must remain, remaining by way of enduring, with disgust. At this point the body, full of filth — and it is not only that, it also has decay, it also has deterioration as its normal state. It has needs, needing us to constantly tend to it. Its need is that we must find things to mend and patch its decay. Decay is, for instance, going from being a small child to a bigger child, from an adult to becoming an old person. Here we see the decay and deterioration: the ears grow deaf, the eyes grow dim, the teeth break, the hair turns grey, the body stoops, strength is spent, wits and wisdom deteriorate — these are signs of decay we can clearly see, yet people refuse to see them; having seen, they refuse to think — this is foolishness. As for vipassana-bhavana, one truly sees with wisdom that it decays every mind-moment; decay is itself impermanence, it does not hold steady. The Buddha said: since it is impermanent, it is suffering — in what way?

The body is born with complete organs as normal, but it has decay and disintegration built into it. This very decaying wants to be replenished, made whole and complete, so we must seek food, must engage in every kind of work to bring back and nourish the body. The arising of this need, that is, hunger, is a symptom of suffering. Seeking food and having to engage in all kinds of work is full of hardship, a symptom of suffering. Besides that, sickness and illness appear — roga (disease) means to pierce and torment — it causes distress; this too is a symptom of suffering. Because it is impermanent, it is therefore suffering. We were a child, then grew up to be a full young man or woman, having strength and a strong body, and we are pleased — but we forget: from the day of birth until today it has been suffering all along, suffering from hunger, thirst, cold, heat, sickness, unfulfilled longing — it oppresses us constantly; this is a symptom of suffering. Only one with wisdom can see this. When we reach youth we are pleased, but it does not last long before it turns to old age — this is suffering, because old age comes in again; suffering because the body is no longer whole, its vigor unsteady, unable to work as before. Eyesight that used to see far now grows short, hardly able to see anything; teeth that used to chew food well now break, chewing becomes awkward, eating inconvenient; the ears grow deaf, the eyes grow dim, the body becomes worn down — this is a symptom of suffering. In the end the Buddha said it is anatta; anatta is disintegration — in the end it collapses.

Now then, since our body is filthy, impermanent, suffering, and ultimately collapsing, why should we sit infatuated, longing for our own body, longing for the bodies of others — for what benefit? No matter whose body it is, whatever status, whatever kind of knowledge, whatever power or fortune, it too has decay, has suffering, has disintegration in the end. And if we sit infatuated with our own body, infatuated with others' bodies, this is called being full of foolishness, and we shall have to be reborn again. This infatuated longing is a defilement (kilesa); kilesa means a defiled mood of the mind, that is, the mind full of foolishness, because defilement arises. Craving — that is, tanha, the desire to acquire — then arises: wanting another's body to become our own, wanting our own body to remain as it is forever, wanting our own body not to disintegrate. How could that ever be possible? This arising and then decaying and disintegrating is simply the nature of things; it cannot be forbidden — just like...

The sun that rises in the morning also sets in the evening — who could stop the sun? Just as we cannot stop the sun, we cannot stop the body's aging, we cannot stop its dying.

Since the body must age, must die, is full of suffering, and we cannot forbid it — what is this? This is called kayagatasati at the outset, and then it becomes sakkaya-ditthi (view of self-body), whereby the Buddha showed us that this body is not us, not ours; we are not in the body, the body is not in us. If it truly were us, truly were ours, it could not be filthy, because we do not want it to be filthy — we would be able to force it to be clean, to hold steady. But as it is, on the matter of filth, forcing it to be clean is something we cannot do. Is it really us? As for the matter of clean or dirty, let that be, set it aside a moment. Here we are young men and women, we do not want to age — can we forbid it? Can we forbid aging? We cannot. We have a complete, whole body, we do not want to fall ill — can we forbid illness? We cannot. And in the end, whether it falls ill, or whether it ages, well, whatever happens, we cannot forbid it. We do not want to die, because we still worry over children, grandchildren, the wealth we obtained with such hardship — can we then force it not to die? We cannot force that either. Since we cannot force it in this way, the Buddha therefore said: it is not us, it is not ours; we are not in it, it is not in us.

Since it is not us, not ours, we cannot forbid or restrain it, and cherishing it does not make it hold steady — so why continue to keep company with it? Let go of the five aggregates, that is, the body, entirely. Contemplate according to the truth, taking kayagatasati as the basis: that it is filthy, creating disgust even toward oneself — not merely sitting in disgust toward other people only. Even toward our very own body, we should hold that it has a condition like a moving latrine, or a moving coffin — inside full of a corpse, and utterly filthy. The smell within the body is likewise full of stench. If what is inside were fragrant, then look at the feces and urine that come out of it — is it foul-smelling or fragrant? It is foul, and that is only one part; the greater part in truth is even more foul than that. Since it is filthy like this, what do we want from it? Look in to find the point of filthiness and see it, and nibbida-nana will arise — this is the sixth vipassana-nana.

When nibbida-nana arises, weariness with the body arises; we continue to be weary of it, that it is filthy — and yet that is not enough; it is also impermanent, suffering, anatta, undergoing disintegration, having no stability. Since it is impermanent, suffering, undergoing disintegration like this, why should we be infatuated with it for any benefit? So we make up our mind...

to reach sankharupekkha-nana. This vipassana-nana need not be gone through in strict order — one can leap straight to it. Sankharupekkha-nana has the mood of equanimity, of no longer needing anything more concerning the body — stop; think that from this moment onward, our own body and the bodies of others, full of filth, full of impermanence, full of suffering, undergoing disintegration in the end, we no longer want any of it. We shall hold that having this body in this life is the last time; in the next life we shall not have a body like this, because we do not want it. Let go of the body; hold that the body is a great enemy, a great danger causing us suffering — that we must be born, age, sicken, and die, full of suffering like this, is only because we were foolish in the past, seeing the body as a good thing, as being us, as being ours. Therefore we fell into slavery to defilements, craving, clinging, and unwholesome kamma.

Now then, how is sankharupekkha-nana practiced?

Let the hair turn grey — consider it an ordinary matter. Let the teeth break — consider it ordinary. Let the ears grow deaf, the eyes grow dim, let it age, let the back stoop — consider it ordinary. Let sickness and illness arise — consider it ordinary. And let death arrive at last — consider it ordinary. Sankharupekkha-nana means equanimity regarding conditioned things, that is, regarding the five aggregates — not struggling, not agitating, not fretting, letting it be an ordinary matter. What can arise can also age; what can arise can also fall sick; what can arise can also die. Let it die if it will, because we do not want it — hold that it is not us, not ours, it is its own burden. When our mind no longer clings to the body, we already have weariness with our own body — whose body anywhere would we then see as clean? Since we have no need, no longer want our own body — whose body then would we want? So it is: when sankharupekkha-nana is reached, the mood of equanimity can simply be set down, no longer caring about the body — let it be whatever it will. While it still has breath in it, we tend to it, because we still need to depend on it; when it is about to collapse, let it collapse as it will. We think that a body like this shall no longer exist for us; we give it up, we do not want it. Whatever condition the five aggregates may be in, we do not want any of it. When our mind no longer wants the five aggregates alone, all defilements are exhausted. When one has the mood of not wanting the five aggregates, seeing that the body, the five aggregates, is anicca, impermanent; dukkha, suffering; anatta, undergoing disintegration; the body full of filth — this is called reaching the state of one who no longer doubts the virtues of the Triple Gem.

And once we no longer want the body anymore, we must grasp the first rung of the ladder, that is, making our morality (sila) pure, in order to step forward into Nibbana. Once sila is well purified, we take hold and destroy sensual lust, that is, kama-chanda — delight in beautiful forms, pleasant sounds, fragrant scents, delicious tastes, and so on. Here we contemplate kayagatasati, and such delights no longer appear: there is no beautiful form, no pleasant sound, no delicious taste; we eat only to sustain the body, not infatuated with the taste of food. If we are still infatuated with the taste of food, this is called being infatuated with the lower realms; if we are infatuated with beautiful forms or pleasant sounds, this too is called being infatuated with the lower realms — the lower realms are the land of burning torment, of suffering. So we have no infatuation; never mind it, whatever the body may be like, let it be — we are not attached, not attached to forms, sounds, tastes, or smells, and not attached to tactile sensation; we have disgust, seeing it as filthy, and kama-chanda is thereby cut off.

Once kama-chanda is released, hatred (dosa) still remains. We then think that this body is not us, not ours, and not another's either — it is merely a meeting-place, the four elements come together to form a temporary dwelling. Why should we be angry and think of harming another for any benefit? There is no need to go killing the villagers over it — they all die anyway; no need to go tormenting them — they are already all suffering, already suffering, already about to die — what is there to do to them? Apart from not harming them, we should further have a mind of loving-kindness and compassion — love and pity — thinking: ah, this person is foolish, infatuated with the body, pretending to stand out, causing anger to arise in others — this person really is foolish, infatuated with the lower realms; we will not join in that. We release anger by the power of the perfection of loving-kindness, or the four brahmaviharas. This then is sankharupekkha-nana — simply set it down. Let them say whatever they like, let them curse however they like, I will not get entangled — for when they curse, they are not really cursing us, they are cursing the five aggregates. Since the five aggregates are not us, not ours, why be angry at them for it? This is what sankharupekkha-nana is like. Once we can set down the mood of hatred, we become an anagami (non-returner). See now how sakkaya-ditthi (view of self) leads to Nibbana? To say that samatha is no good is only out of foolishness — even the arahant still uses samatha as normal practice, for the sake of dwelling in happiness.

Once one has reached anagami, only small latent tendencies (anusaya) remain. We look at rupa-jhana and arupa-jhana and think: ah, this is not Nibbana itself, it does not free one from suffering. We hold on to rupa-jhana and arupa-jhana as a strength to step forward into Nibbana, not that having attained jhana one becomes complacent and self-satisfied, thinking oneself already a wondrous being — that would be...

a mind of hell, not a mind of heaven, not a mind of Nibbana, because rupa-jhana and arupa-jhana are still not able to release, still not able to cut off rebirth. Here we see rupa-jhana and arupa-jhana as a great strength, holding power; we maintain that strength so it stays steady, preserving the jhana, but not stopping there — we step further on.

We use the power of jhana as great strength to go in and cut off mana, conceit, holding oneself as this or that — seeing that we are better than others, equal to others, worse than others. Cast all that away: nothing is truly good, nothing is truly bad, it all follows its own nature, an ordinary matter; nothing is repulsive, nothing is lovable — we neither love nor feel disgust, that is, disgust toward others, disgust toward another's body, disgust at another's body thinking them lower than us, worse than us — none of this exists; it is equally filthy, it equally collapses, it is a dwelling, a temporary residence — why should we get entangled with it?

Then we keep the mind's mood fixed only on Nibbana, cutting off uddhacca, restlessness and distraction, entirely; we want no other mood, wanting only one mood, that is, Nibbana. What is the mood of Nibbana like? The mind is happy, unconcerned with the five aggregates, accepting them as they are: if it hurts, let it hurt; if it is sick, let it be sick; if hot, let it be hot; if cold, let it be cold, as it will. If it is hot, we bathe; if cold, we wrap ourselves in cloth; if it can bear it, let it bear; if it cannot bear it and dies, let it die. Here our mood does not get too entangled with the five aggregates; we tend to it somewhat, according to time, because when it grows hungry we must find it food, when hot we must find water to bathe, when cold we must find cloth to wrap it — this is to destroy painful feeling because we still must depend on it. And we think that what we do is done only to preserve the steadiness of the mind's strength; let it collapse whenever it will. This is sankharupekkha-nana; the mind is at ease in this way.

Once uddhacca is destroyed, we then destroy avijja, ignorance; we cut off chanda, delight in the body, entirely; we cut off raga, the view that the body is beautiful and lovely, entirely; we cut off the delight, that is, the chanda that wishes to have a body again in future — cut it away entirely, we no longer want it. We shall no longer see this kind of body as beautiful or as clean. Once this is cut off, the mood becomes happy, like the mood of the arahant. The mood of the arahant is truly happy, with no rising, no falling, not attached to the five aggregates, not attached to the body. Once one is no longer attached to the body — our own body, we are not even attached to that, so how could we be attached to anyone else's body? Since we are not attached to the body...

and we no longer cling to our body, thinking this body is us, is ours — how then could we see another person's body as being us or ours? And how could we still see external possessions as being us or ours? All of it is cut away entirely. Once cut away, we accept and honor the law of nature, and the mood of mind becomes at ease — just as when we see it grow light, we know today there is sunshine, that sunlight brings heat; we know it will be so, and the mind stays normal, does not struggle. When evening comes and the air turns cool, we know the air is cool, and we do not get agitated. Whatever is natural, if we accept and honor it, our mind is at peace. It is the same with the body: it is filthy, and we know it is filthy; it is impermanent, and we know it is impermanent; it is suffering, and we know it is suffering; it must disintegrate, and we know it must disintegrate. We do not resist it — it cannot be resisted anyway — and the mind is at ease. Let death come, I do not need anything otherwise. Being able to hold the mind like this is called using samatha and vipassana together at the same time; reaching Nibbana then is not a difficult thing.

May all of you listeners, wishing yourselves well, take this to contemplate with every in-breath and out-breath: attana codayattanam — remind yourself: is there any day when we are infatuated with our own body, thinking our body is strong and fine, beautiful, lovely, with clear bright complexion, feeling pleased in mind because our body is strong and beautiful — is there such a day? If there is, know that this is utter foolishness, a mood of the lower realms. And is there any day when we see, 'my, that other person's body — how beautiful!'? If there is, it shows we are utterly foolish. We should think: this foolish one, we will not keep company with — because we already know what the body is like: filthy. We are filthy, others are filthy too; the body is not us, it is a rented house for a while; we give it up, we no longer want it. Use sankharupekkha-nana as the mood, remaining equanimous toward whatever comes to affect us, that is, the eight worldly conditions (lokadhamma 8): gain and loss of gain, status and loss of status, blame and praise, pleasure and pain — when these eight moods arise, we have an easy, normal mood, nothing shaken, holding it as an ordinary matter, with the mind fixed on one thing only: Nibbana. Purify sila, establish samadhi firmly, use wisdom to accept and honor the law of truth, without struggling, with an easy mood. So then, for this meditation subject, if one can do just this much, one is already an arahant — it is not difficult. Keep this in mind every day, always keep it in mind every day, with every in-breath and out-breath. On waking, look at the body as filthy, look at the body as impermanent, look at the body as suffering, look at the body as not-self; the mood will become familiar, will become normal, and in the end it can be released.

From here on, may all of you try to keep the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in-breath and out-breath — when breathing in, know that you are breathing in; when breathing out, know that you are breathing out. Contemplate whichever meditation subject you have studied, as your disposition inclines, or recite whatever word of meditation you wish. If it is better, other recitations may be too enticing; when close to death it will be difficult, it will be tiring, so it is best to use the recitation word 'Buddho,' which is also easy, and moreover has great merit, being the Buddhanussati meditation subject. Now then, from here on, may everyone keep the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in-breath and out-breath, use the recitation word and contemplate as your disposition inclines, until you hear the signal telling that time is up.

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29. Mindfulness of Death (Maranassati)

On this occasion, all you Buddhist devotees have together taken the precepts and taken up the meditation practice. Now follows the occasion for all you devotees to gather your strength of mind into concentration (samadhi). The word samadhi means "firm setting of the mind" — fixing the mind on one particular object. At this stage, what is taught as the foundation is for every one of you to try to fix the mind on knowing the in-breath and out-breath. When breathing in, think "Phut"; when breathing out, think "Tho." That much is enough. If at any moment your mind still knows the in-breath and out-breath, knowing the word "Phutdho," this shows your mind has become concentrated. Just holding the mind this way is already a great wholesome deed, an endless merit whose benefits cannot even be counted. If you can maintain the mind like this as a matter of course, then when you die you will be reborn as a Brahma. This concerns calm-meditation (samatha bhavana). I ask all you devotees to maintain this object as your normal state — whether now or at any other time, whether working, riding in a car or a boat, traveling anywhere — keep this object in mind as normal, so that at the time of death you will not die in confusion. At worst you will go to a heavenly realm; at best, the Brahma world, because calm-meditation bears fruit up to the Brahma world. And we can go to Nibbana if our calm-meditation becomes sufficiently clear and bright — wisdom will then arise as insight-knowledge (vipassana-ñana) of itself.

Today I would like to introduce the next item of recollection for your study in practice. Today I will teach the meditation on mindfulness of death (maranassati kammatthana). This subject suits a person of intelligent temperament (buddhi-carita) — a clever person. A truly intelligent person does not fear death; they know the ordinary nature of the five aggregates, the body — that it arises at the beginning, changes in the middle, and dies in the end. Now, in keeping death in mind as a matter of course, one should not count by age, thinking "right now I am still young," "I am still a young woman," "not yet old, not yet dead," "right now I am middle-aged, not yet old, not yet dying," or "right now I am already old but still not dead." One should not think this way, because death has no fixed sign or mark. Those who die are not always the aged and decrepit. Some die while still inside the mother's womb, before ever coming out to see the moon or sun. Some are born from the womb but do not live long enough to see the moon or sun, not knowing what this world is like, and die. Some are born and die within a few days. The young die; children die.

The old die; the middle-aged die too. So death offers no certainty at all. The Lord Buddha, the Supreme Teacher, therefore advised all Buddhist devotees to keep death in mind as their meditation object. Think: "Today, this evening, I am still alive, but I may not see tomorrow's sunrise." Death may arrive.

Now, is it good or bad for a person to keep death in mind habitually? The Lord Buddha taught that a person who habitually recollects death is a good person, free of heedlessness. When one knows one will die, the state of death is not a state of annihilation. As long as we have not eradicated our defilements through total abandonment (samuccheda-pahana) — that is, until we become an arahant — rebirth will occur. When we die we are reborn; this does not mean we are always reborn as a human being. If we have done evil and the mind has accumulated evil states, we may be reborn as a hell-being, a hungry ghost (peta), an asura, or an animal. Even if reborn human, one may not have abundance or complete happiness compared to others — this is the outcome of the evil we call sin. Now, a person of goodness who keeps the five precepts, with the ten courses of wholesome action pure, can be reborn human, and indeed as a superior human being. Or, if one has practiced some meditation, keeping precepts and generosity as a matter of course, one may be reborn a deva. If one's mental strength reaches jhana, with the mind habitually holding to goodness — the word "jhana" means "fixed contemplation," a state sustained specifically in a wholesome object — then at death the mind remains in that state; dying like this, one is reborn a Brahma. If one can cut off the defilements through total abandonment, one goes to Nibbana.

So it is that death exists, but dying is not annihilation — one must be reborn. Whatever one is reborn as depends entirely on the kamma performed. Once we know this, we should do good in order to be reborn into a happy result; doing evil, we must go to suffer in the states of misery (apayabhumi). For this reason we should make avoiding evil our priority. Keep recollecting death as normal. We may think: "today I am alive, tomorrow I may die," or "right now, while sitting here, I may die even before I lie down to sleep." If we always think this way, our mind will not be heedless, and we will strive to seek goodness as a matter of course. In seeking goodness habitually, which direction should we take? Knowing we will die, we get to choose our path. If we want to be reborn human, we should try to keep the precepts pure, try to keep the ten courses of action pure, and try to control our conduct within the precepts as a matter of course. Dying like this, one becomes—

a human being with ease, indeed a superior human being. As the Pali text says: "Sīlena sugatiṃ yanti" — when one dies, a person of virtue goes to a good destination. "Sīlena bhogasampadā" — we will have abundant wealth. "Sīlena nibbutiṃ yanti" — virtue is a condition leading easily to Nibbana. So then, if we are a virtuous person who has already kept death in mind, and if we want what is good, we should keep the precepts as a matter of course.

Now, if we want happiness beyond that — to go to heaven or the Brahma world — we should cultivate calm-meditation (samatha) as a matter of course, as advised: breathing in, think "Phut"; breathing out, think "Tho." Breathing in and out like this is the meditation of mindfulness of breathing (anapanasati kammatthana), which restrains distraction of mind. The word "Phutdho" is the recollection-of-the-Buddha meditation (Buddhanussati kammatthana) — recollecting the virtues of the Buddha as one's object. If we do this as a matter of course, we can go to the Brahma world.

Now, can the cultivation of mindfulness-of-death meditation only take us to the Brahma world, or is there more? In truth it is not so limited — we can reach Nibbana by raising calm-meditation up into insight-meditation (vipassana bhavana). Recollecting death as an object is calm-meditation, whose results range from the sense-sphere heavens up to the Brahma world. But since the result of reaching heaven or the Brahma world is not yet sufficient happiness, we must seek happiness greater still. For that greater happiness we must take death as our object, reflecting that since we are born, we are certain to die — we cannot maintain life forever. Death is normal; we may die in the morning, mid-morning, afternoon, evening, or at noon — we do not know when, but die we certainly will. Therefore we must prepare for death with every single in-breath and out-breath. As for this recollection of death called "maranassati" — the Lord Buddha once said to the Venerable Ananda, asking: "Ananda, how many times a day do you recollect death?" Ananda replied: "I recollect death about seven times a day, Lord." The Blessed One said: "Ananda, that is still much too infrequent. The Tathagata recollects death with every single in-breath and out-breath." Thus even the Buddha himself never abandoned the recollection of death.

Now, having recollected death, we should aspire to goodness — giving alms, keeping precepts, and cultivating meditation. If the meditation is of the calm (samatha) type, it becomes a condition leading to rebirth as a Brahma or in a heavenly realm.

Giving alms and keeping precepts can lead to rebirth in heaven, or as a human being — but this is still not the ultimate end of suffering, because further rebirth is still required. So we come to seek the way to cut off rebirth entirely. If we do not stop being reborn, we cannot escape from finding death again and again.

Now, if we wish to turn the mindfulness-of-death meditation into insight-knowledge (vipassana-ñana), how do we do it so as to reach Nibbana? In truth, every kind of calm-meditation subject can be transformed into insight-knowledge. Whichever meditation subject we cultivate until the mind reaches jhana with firm stability, we use that same subject as our insight-meditation. Right now we are considering the mindfulness-of-death meditation as our object. This should not be forgotten; it must always be borne in mind. Do not think that we will live a long life — thinking this way is heedlessness. Think instead that death may reach us at any moment. Breathing in without breathing out again, one dies; breathing out without breathing in again, one dies. One may die before finishing a meal, even with the bowl of rice still in front of one. When we keep death in mind as a matter of course, thinking we must die, let us then step back a little and consider: from the time we were born until today, when we are to die, have we been a person of happiness or of suffering? Use wisdom to examine and find the truth. Suffering (dukkha) means "that which must be endured" — enduring action, enduring existence, enduring thought, enduring the carrying out of every task. This is the nature of suffering. Now let us sit and consider what forms of suffering have actually appeared.

Since we were born, have we encountered suffering or not? Let us sit and reflect, considering from the time we were in our mother's womb, whether we experienced happiness or suffering. While curled up sitting in our mother's womb — consider the condition of someone sitting hugging their knees, curled up in the womb, unable to stretch out hand or foot, because the space of the womb is so very small. Sitting hugging one's knees for a full ten months — ten months is a long time. We who are now grown up — if we tried sitting hugging our knees for fun for just one day, could we bear it? We could not, because of the aching and soreness, with no ability to shift position at all. This shows that suffering has existed ever since we were in our mother's womb — that is suffering. While in the womb we relied on the warmth of the mother's fire-element; once we move out of the womb we are struck by sensations of cold and heat. Even though this is a normal occurrence, we had never before been exposed to open air. A newborn baby cries loudly — this shows the body feels an unbearable stinging sensation, because having never before been exposed even slightly to cold or heat, it—

the sensation of unbearable rawness makes it cry. Modern-day doctors have enough knowledge and cleverness that, when a baby is newly born, they immediately wrap the baby's body in soft cotton cloth, to guard against exposure to air which causes a stinging sensation.

Now, once one has been born as a human being, hunger too is suffering. Hunger is a piercing, stabbing sensation — it is suffering, not happiness. If anyone thinks it is happiness, let them try being hungry forever, eating no rice, drinking no water, taking no food, and see whether they can bear it. Thirst is the same. The urge to defecate or urinate is also suffering. Not being able to sleep is suffering. Sitting too long, standing too long, lying down too long, eating beyond what is needed — all of this is suffering. Aching all over the body, falling ill — this too is suffering, it is suffering. Wishes that go unfulfilled are suffering. Earning a livelihood in various trades, seeking money — we must use physical labor, we must use mental effort; we cannot simply sit idle or lie idle. Why not? Because we must work. And the condition of having to work means we must endure — endure cold, endure heat, endure aches and pains, we must endure. Whether things go well or not, we may clash with subordinates, or with superiors above us who cause us distress, and we must endure it. Whenever we meet with circumstances we dislike, we meet with distress — this too is a form of suffering.

Now, falling ill is also a form of suffering. Once age advances somewhat, the eyes grow dim, teeth fall out, hair turns gray, the body weakens, the mind becomes confused, and one can no longer act with ease — this too is suffering. Finally, when death approaches — at the actual moment of death, one does not die peacefully or as if falling asleep. A dying person is crushed by intense painful feeling (dukkha-vedana); the pain is severe, unbearable. As long as one can still bear it, one does not die; only when the painful feeling crushes one beyond endurance does death occur. So it is that from the day of our birth until the day of our death, we have nothing but suffering — we have no true happiness. If we still wish to be reborn again after this, that is utter foolishness. However many hundreds of thousands of lives we may be reborn into, we will meet with this same suffering the whole time. Even if we are reborn as a Brahma or a deva, once our lifespan and store of merit run out, we will meet with suffering again, coming back to be reborn human, suffering in this same way. If things go badly, we may be reborn as a hell-being, and the suffering is far greater still — engulfed in fire all day long, with every kind of weapon constantly hacking at one. Picture this scene—

When one is reborn as a hungry ghost (peta), the suffering is extreme, engulfed in fire at all times. If reborn as an asura, one cannot bear the hunger, and must go searching for food that has been thrown away, already rotten and spoiled, and eat it, all the while hiding oneself so no one will see. If reborn as an animal, even if some people show kindness and compassion, one's wishes still go unfulfilled. Sometimes one wants to eat a certain thing and has that wish, and if someone offers something else instead, or if one falls ill, one cannot tell anyone; when the master who keeps the animal does not yet provide what is needed, one must simply endure the painful feeling.

So it is that if we continue to be reborn, it will be full of suffering. The Buddha therefore advised us to escape from rebirth by raising the mindfulness-of-death meditation as our object — reflecting that since we are born, we must die, and before death comes we are full of suffering. How, then, can we avoid being reborn? What causes our rebirth in the first place? It is caused by the defilements, the corruption of the mind. Craving (tanha) has thirsting desire — wanting to exist as a person forever, wanting to be reborn. Clinging (upadana) grasps and holds firmly that being born as a person is something wonderful. Through unwholesome kamma we refuse to purify our own minds, keeping the mind corrupted at all times — whether corrupted a little or a lot, it still counts as within the range of corruption. These four factors are the conditions for being reborn to suffer.

Now, we flee from suffering in search of happiness, called the "deathless realm" — Nibbana. To find the way to this realm, we must first grasp the key point: what is it that pulls us into rebirth, preventing us from reaching Nibbana? The factors that pull us into rebirth have three main roots: greed (lobha), anger (dosa), and delusion (moha). If we can cut off greed, anger, and delusion, we will go to Nibbana. To cut off greed, anger, or delusion, we rely on contemplation of the body (kayagata-sati) and on overcoming the view of self (sakkaya-ditthi) — contemplating and seeing that this body is not us, is not ours; we do not exist within the body, and the body does not exist within us. The body is merely the four elements — water, earth, wind, fire — combined temporarily into a dwelling; and it continually deteriorates, is full of suffering at all times, and in the end collapses. If it were truly us, if it were truly ours, it would not behave this way — because once young we would not want to grow old, once we have a body we would not want to fall ill; if we could maintain ourselves quickly as we are we would not want to die. But can we forbid it from doing so? If we cannot forbid it, then when it grows old, who can stop it? When it falls ill, who can stop that illness?

Even a doctor still falls ill. If it is truly time to die, no one can stop it. The fact that we cannot stop it shows that this body is not us, is not ours; we do not exist within the body, the body does not exist within us. What we truly are is the mind — what we call "the mind" or the "invisible body" (atisamana-kaya) — that which comes to dwell within this fleshly form, relying on flesh, skin, bones, and so on as its dwelling. Whatever is wanted, it is we, the mind, who give the command; the body is merely comparable to a puppet.

Now we should think further: since the body is not us, is not ours, and is a realm of suffering, a dwelling place of suffering, we should let it go. Keep thinking always that this body is of no benefit; it is full of filth, full of uncertainty, full of the marks of suffering. We no longer want a body. Since we have been born and have encountered the Dhamma of the Lord Buddha, the Supreme Teacher, let this life be considered our final birth; let us hold fast to the Dhamma teachings of the Blessed Lamp-Jewel [the Buddha] as our foremost guide.

The most essential point is to constantly bear in mind that this body is not us, is not ours; it deteriorates every day, it decays every day, it is full of suffering — this creates weariness toward further rebirth, seeing the danger of being born. The second point is to resolve to accept the Dhamma teachings of the Lord Buddha, using wisdom to examine them as well, not merely believing blindly. What did the Buddha teach? That once born, all is impermanent (anicca), unable to remain constant; suffering (dukkha); non-self (anatta), subject to disintegration. Consider carefully whether this is true.

Furthermore, the Blessed One declared: "Jātipi dukkhā" — birth is suffering, as already discussed; "Jarāpi dukkhā" — old age is suffering; "Maraṇampi dukkhaṃ" — death is suffering; "soka-parideva-dukkha-domanassa-upāyāsā," and so on — sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair are suffering; separation from what is loved and cherished is suffering. Why is it suffering? It is suffering because that which is naturally impermanent is simply the ordinary nature of existence — that is how it actually is. But clinging (upadana) grasps at it, and ignorance (avijja) obscures the truth; ignorance blinds the mind and prevents wisdom from arising. Now, when we see that the Buddha declared this to be suffering — is it truly suffering? If we truly see it as such, this shows that we accept and revere the Lord Buddha. Having accepted and revered him, we then go on to think further: the Buddha told us that death is not the final end — there is further rebirth—

First we should choose the good path of rebirth, and then limit our future births to fewer in number. If we do not build up goodness, we will be reborn countless hundreds of thousands of times more, beyond counting. So we aim to limit our rebirths to the fewest possible while we are still unable to escape entirely — and that means making ourselves a Stream-Enterer (Sotapanna). Do not forget: the body is not us, is not ours — keep this in mind always as a matter of course; before long it will collapse, it is full of suffering. We accept and believe the teachings of the Buddha. These two points alone, taken together, already bring us close to the full measure of stream-entry.

Next, we accept and revere the Blessed Lamp-Jewel [the Buddha], who taught us to build goodness at the outset — that is, to keep the five precepts pure, never willing to break them. This is the first of the three main principles. Then, having a mind that loves Nibbana as its sole aspiration [completes the three]. Let us examine simply: are our five precepts pure at all times, in every era? We must not break or destroy the precepts ourselves, must not incite or encourage others to destroy the precepts, and must not take delight when others have destroyed their precepts; we accept and revere the virtues of the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Noble Sangha, with the mind fixed steadily on Nibbana alone — this is what is called a Stream-Enterer. There is nothing difficult about it at all; it is something simple that everyone should be able to do. That is, once we reach stream-entry, we can limit our rebirths, restricting the range of where we can be reborn. Once we are a Stream-Enterer, there are four destinations we no longer have the right to be reborn into: hell, the realm of hungry ghosts, the realm of asuras, and the animal realm. We have no right to become a hell-being, a hungry ghost, an asura, or an animal — even if we tried, we would not be accepted there. The only births open to us are as a human being and a deva, or as a Brahma and a human, alternating between these only, never falling into the states of misery. If our resolve happens to be somewhat weak, it is said we will be reborn as a human seven more times, alternating with devahood — dying as a human to be reborn a deva, then passing from the deva state to be reborn human again, alternating seven times each — and we will then reach Nibbana, becoming an Arahant. If our resolve is somewhat stronger, of medium degree, we will be reborn human only three more times, then reborn as a deva or Brahma three more times, alternating just this much, and we will reach Nibbana. If our resolve is truly intense, with the mind fixed single-pointedly, thinking specifically that the body does not matter, that the Buddha's Dhamma is excellent, keeping the precepts pure with great intensity, and being careful and moderate in speech, action, and thought, keeping within the bounds of goodness and wholesomeness, with a mind of love—

with Nibbana as one's object — if the mind reaches such one-pointedness, the Lord Buddha, the Victorious Lion, declared: dying from the human state, one is reborn as a deva and a Brahma; descending from deva and Brahma to become human just once more, hearing the Dhamma taught once more, one becomes an Arahant on the spot, attaining Nibbana, entirely free from suffering.

Why is this so? Because of keeping death in mind as one's object. Because before death, everything is suffering — recollecting death is calm-meditation. Let us consider: from the day of birth until the day of death, everything is full of the marks of a suffering being; it is impermanent, it disintegrates — this is called non-self (anatta). This part is insight-meditation (vipassana bhavana). Combine both of these together — do not cultivate meditation using only one approach, or it will not hold firm. With just this much, you devotees can be said to have greatly restrained further rebirth — that is, shortening the duration of future rebirths. Instead of being reborn hundreds of thousands of times, at worst we will be reborn only 7 more times; at medium level, 3 more times; and if we do our very best, only once more. And then we will no longer have any chance of being reborn into realms full of suffering — as a hell-being, a hungry ghost, an asura, or an animal. There is simply no way for us to go there.

Well then, for today, all you devotees, please take just this much for your study — the time has run on quite long already. Keep death in mind as your object. Always reflect on whether, before death, life is happiness or suffering. If we still see any single facet of human existence as happiness, that shows our understanding is inadequate. Recall the teaching the Lord Buddha, the Supreme Teacher, gave: "Attanā codayattānaṃ" — waking up each morning, remind yourself always: "I must die. The body is not me, is not mine." Fulfill completely the goodness the Buddha taught; be a person of pure precepts at all times, with the mind having but one single aspiration: Nibbana. This is the condition of a Stream-Enterer. If we can do this every single day, all you devotees should know that you have already become a Stream-Enterer. There is still the matter mentioned of needing to be reborn 7 times, 3 times, or 1 time more — that is according to the texts. But in actual practice, a person who is a Stream-Enterer, if they die and are reborn as a deva or Brahma, will not have to wait long: when Lord Sri Ariya Metteyya preaches, hearing his teaching just once is enough to become an Arahant. But if by chance we come down to be reborn as a human before Lord Sri Ariya has spoken, not yet having become a deva or Brahma — when born as an ordinary human being, whether encountering the Buddha himself or an Arahant possessing the three higher knowledges (tevijja) or above, they will surely perceive our disposition—

"This person's merit and store of virtue must be significant" — he will preach specifically directed toward those with great inner strength who already possess the spiritual capital. He repeats the original teaching once more. When the original teaching is repeated, one's earlier resolve becomes manifest again, and joy in the Dhamma (dhamma-piti) arises — even though we do not realize it is the same teaching as before, it strikes us as deeply fitting. There arises a sense of rightness, of delight and confidence. Hearing that teaching just once, one becomes an Arahant. So it is that if we can control our own resolve, we can become a Stream-Enterer in this very life, and then, after just a little more time until Lord Sri Ariya speaks, we can become an Arahant. This is called being free of all suffering, free of all further rebirth.

Nibbana is not a state of annihilation — it is called a divine and wondrous state, the deathless realm, without any further movement. It is unlike the deva or Brahma states, where once one's merit and accumulated virtue are exhausted, one must come back down. But once one has fully entered the realm of Nibbana, there is no coming down; one simply remains there permanently, with happiness as the norm, with no heaviness at all — not even the slightest trace of discomfort. This is what is called true goodness.

Well then, that is enough for today's reminder, as study material. At this point I will now teach the 40 meditation subjects (kammatthana), one point given each day. So for those who have newly joined, it may seem unfamiliar as to how the teaching proceeds. Once the teaching of all 40 subjects is complete, you will have them all to use, kept in full, knowing what arises and how. Whichever subject you find most agreeable, practice that one intensively — and do not forget to add insight-knowledge (vipassana-ñana) to it as well. Now then, from this point on, please everyone sit with the body upright and the mind firmly established. Try to fix your attention on the in-breath and out-breath — breathing in, know that you are breathing in; breathing out, know that you are breathing out. But do not force the breath — let it be short or long, light or strong, as it will; let it go along naturally. When breathing in, think "Phut"; when breathing out, think "Tho."

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30. Mindfulness of Death (continued)

Today I will continue speaking on the meditation on mindfulness of death, because yesterday we had to stop at the level of stream-entry as time ran out. But before we go on to consider mindfulness of death at a higher level, first of all, please everyone try to control your mental strength into concentration. To restrain the wandering mind, let the mind hold an object in concentration — that is, be aware of the in-breath and out-breath. When breathing in, be aware that you are breathing in; when breathing out, be aware that you are breathing out. This awareness of the in-breath and out-breath is called the meditation of mindfulness of breathing (anapanasati kammatthana); it controls the wandering mind. If the mind does not wander, one remembers well, and what is remembered is not forgotten. The reason we cannot remember something, or remember it but then easily forget it, is because the mind lacks concentration — that is, we allow the mind to wander too much, and memory (sañña) does not stay stable. Cultivating concentration is precisely the binding of memory so that it remains stable.

From here on, please everyone reflect — having listened, reflect further on the subject of mindfulness-of-death meditation. Last night we stopped at the level of stream-entry, meaning we already know that we will die. Since death exists, before death comes we are full of suffering. Consider suffering according to the Noble Truths (ariyasacca). The word "ariyasacca" refers to the truth that remains constant. Let our minds accept and acknowledge the plane of reality — this means not letting the mind struggle against and resist reality.

What is actually true? Birth is suffering; old age is suffering; sickness and illness are suffering; hunger and thirst are suffering; the need to defecate and urinate is suffering; unfulfilled wishes are suffering; carrying out work, full of weariness, is suffering; and separation from what is loved and cherished is suffering; death is suffering. The reason suffering exists at all is because we refuse to accept and acknowledge the law of reality — for in truth, nothing should really need to be suffering, because everything is simply the ordinary course of nature. Once birth occurs, old age follows; sickness and illness follow; hunger, thirst, cold, heat, the need to defecate and urinate, separation from what is loved and cherished, and finally death — all of these must follow, because of birth and so forth. It is because of relying on birth that suffering exists — this is simply how things ordinarily are. Even if we make our minds suffer over it, nothing beneficial comes of it. Why is that? Because we cannot resist it.

If our mind accepts and acknowledges the law of nature — that this is simply how reality is — then once born, we must know that we grow older every day, our body deteriorates every day, we must eat food every day just to stay alive, we will naturally fall ill, we must be separated from what is loved and cherished, and in the end death comes. If our mind accepts this reality, what is there left for us to suffer over?

Now, if we fear suffering, once it comes what should we do? The body is a nest of disease (roga-nidhaṃ), a heap subject to decay (pabhaṅguṇaṃ) — it must naturally become wearisome and decompose. If we know this is simply natural, we accept and acknowledge the law of nature. If this law of nature is what oppresses us into suffering, we no longer want it. So we come to see that this physical existence, besides being subject to death and suffering, is also not us, not ours; it will eventually die. When it dies, if we carry evil with us, we fall into the states of misery; if we carry goodness, we go to a good destination; if the mind is pure, we go to Nibbana.

This is simply how reality is. Knowing that we will die, we prepare to fight back — we no longer want further suffering. Relieving suffering at the outset is a way of easing suffering — that is, relieving rebirth, through habitually recollecting death, seeing that this physical existence is not us, not ours; we do not exist within the body, the body does not exist within us; the body is merely a gathering of the four elements, merely a temporary dwelling. What we truly are is the mind, or the invisible body, that dwells within the body. If the body collapses, we must depart from it. We should always keep in mind that death is simply natural; whenever it comes, so be it — the body is not us, is not ours.

Then, further, in order to lessen suffering and lessen rebirth, we accept and revere the teachings of the Lord Buddha with wisdom — not merely accepting them blindly, but first considering carefully what the truth actually is. When we see that the Buddha's teaching is true, in accordance with reality, then we must accept and revere it. This requires using wisdom as the tool of consideration.

After that, we must keep the five precepts pure at all times, as a way of guarding against the states of misery, with the mind loving Nibbana as its object. This is for lay people. For monks and novices, they must keep their own precepts—

pure and without deficiency, with Nibbana as their object. This is what is called being a Stream-Enterer; it is not difficult.

Now, given that we habitually recollect death — becoming a Stream-Enterer still requires being reborn as a new being. Even if reborn as a mere human, deva, or Brahma — during the time as a deva or Brahma there is happiness, but being reborn human means having to endure suffering again. Even though rebirth is limited in range — with weak resolve we are reborn human 7 times, with moderate resolve 3 times, with refined resolve just 1 time — even that "1 time" is still full of oppression. Why should we continue being reborn at all? Now, how do we go about no longer wanting to be reborn? We must advance into the state of a Non-Returner (Anagami) or an Arahant. Once one is a Non-Returner, if one dies from the human state one is reborn as a deva or Brahma, and then attains Nibbana there, in happiness. How can we become a Non-Returner? We take up death as the cause for reflection: our body will eventually die; before it dies, being alive is already full of suffering. Now, what condition is a person's body in once dead? It consists of filth and foulness; everything that flows out of the body is clearly seen to be filthy. Turning to look at the body through the contemplation of self-view (sakkaya-ditthi) or the body-contemplation meditation (kayagatasati kammatthana) discussed earlier — the body is full of filth, full of foulness, growing older every day, deteriorating, full of suffering, and finally dying. The desire to have a spouse, bound up with sexual desire, relying on physical contact as its basis, offers nothing that is truly a realm of happiness — it merely adds more suffering. When we seek happiness this way, having a spouse means bearing the burden of pleasing one's spouse, pleasing the spouse's relatives, the spouse's friends — where is the happiness in that? Having children on top of it turns out to add even heavier suffering. So seeking a spouse, hoping it will bring happiness, is in fact a mark of human foolishness, not wisdom — seeing the marks of suffering as marks of happiness; only a fool would do such a thing.

Now let us consider the bodies of the people we desire as partners — are they clean, are they truly beautiful and lovely, where exactly is the goodness in them? When we consider our own body, seeing that it is filthy—

where in the world would any layperson's body be clean? This desire for companionship — we do not want to be separated from our partner because love is the driving factor. But can we prevent it? We do not want our partner to age, we do not want them to deteriorate, we do not want them to fall ill, we do not want them to die — can we prevent it? In the end, we cannot prevent it. Once we cannot prevent it, what benefit is there in desiring to have a partner at all? Physical form has no permanence; it deteriorates as a matter of course. Sound touches the ear and then passes away; scent touches the nose and then passes away; taste touches the tip and middle of the tongue, and once it passes to the root of the tongue the taste is gone, there is no more sensation of it, and so on. So why should we be so infatuated and obsessed? Because it is a cause of suffering, producing suffering constantly. Resolve to cut it off — consider that we are already going to die, we deteriorate every single day; why should we bear the burden of having a partner? There is no benefit in it; it is entirely full of suffering, not a cause of happiness.

Here we see suffering specifically, and we consider through body-contemplation (kayagatasati) that the human body is full of filth, something truly repulsive. Contemplating this ordinarily, a little each day, produces familiarity in the mind. We see that it is filthy, that nothing about it holds together, that it is constantly impermanent, and that it finally disintegrates — so what benefit is there in seeking love, desire, and want? When we habitually reflect this way, considering that we are going to die, why should we take a corpse to be our own for any benefit? Our own body is a corpse; other people's bodies are corpses too, full of foulness. When we habitually reflect on this matter, we are able to cut off sensual desire (kamachanda) — delight in forms, sounds, scents, tastes, or tactile sensations will no longer arise in us. Do this gradually, gradually calming the mind, controlling one's strength of mind into concentration by the power of mindfulness of breathing together with recollection of the Buddha. When the mind feels at ease, when the mind is at peace, then turn to contemplate the body-contemplation meditation together with insight-knowledge — that the body is impermanent, is suffering, is non-self, is not us, is not ours, the body is full of filth. Before long the mind will grow accustomed to this, developing a sense of disenchantment called "nibbida-ñana" (knowledge of disenchantment). When this disenchantment arises, one feels weary and wishes to destroy the five aggregates entirely. This is the state one desires — one wishes to destroy them completely, to end the shell and the round of further rebirth. But—

destroying it serves no purpose, because that would be an act of self-destruction (upaghatakamma), a taking of life that leaves the mind defiled — the Buddha forbade this.

Since the body will maintain itself for as long as it will, let it be as it pleases; but we should not become attached to it, cultivating the mind into the knowledge of equanimity toward formations (sankharupekkha-ñana). Whatever happens to it, so be it — let it fall ill, so be it; let it hunger, so be it; let it be separated from what is loved and cherished, so be it; let it die, so be it — let it be. If hungry, eat if there is food; if not, let it go. There is no need to be particular about what food one eats, this way or that — it cannot cure old age, cannot prevent illness, cannot prevent death. Those attached to the taste of food are simply foolish, not wise. Whatever kind of food, whatever kind of flavor, once eaten it still falls ill, still ages, still dies just the same; the body remains full of filth regardless. So we should not be attached to the taste of food; whether the food is good or bad, delicious or not, is unimportant, because the mind holds equanimity, regarding eating merely as sustaining the body so life may continue. When the mind reaches the knowledge of equanimity toward formations, the cutting off of sensual desire is likewise complete.

Why is that? The mind is indifferent; seeing any form, sound, scent, taste, or touch, the mind no longer wants it, feeling only disenchantment as its object, with equanimity as the ordinary state. So we hold that, since we are going to die anyway, we want nothing from anyone. The bodies of other people that we might desire will also age and die just the same, full of filth. In this way we can cut off sensual desire without difficulty. Once sensual desire is cut off, we must also cut off ill-will (vyapada) in order to become a Non-Returner.

To cut off ill-will, we again take up death as the reason for reflection: our own body must die; other people's bodies must die too. Besides dying, they are also full of suffering, full of oppression — so what would we even want from them? There is then no more desire regarding the five aggregates — that is, desire regarding the five aggregates no longer exists for us. Why would we be angry at or wish to kill anyone? Every person, every kind of creature, once born, must die — there is no need to kill them. So we no longer wish to kill; if we wished to torment someone into suffering, they are already suffering as it is. Now, as for remedying anger, the Lord Buddha taught that we should use loving-kindness (metta) within the divine abidings (brahmavihara) as the key method — making our minds love all beings and persons, regarding all beings and persons as companions in birth, aging, sickness, and death, all likewise full of suffering. We shall not bear ill-will, destroy, or kill; we shall not harm the life of anyone.

And whosever body it may be — apart from having no thought to harm it, our mood grows cool and calm. There is only compassion, only a heart of loving-kindness, only the wish that they be happy. Our mind's mood is cool and calm. Or else, if the loving-kindness brahmavihara does not suit one's temperament, we use one of the four kasinas — the red kasina, green, yellow, white — whichever one, to keep the mind's mood normal. In the end we calm the mind, that is, we destroy anger and ill-will. When anger and ill-will no longer appear in the mind, we may say we have cut off ill-will, or hatred (dosa). Anger and the ill-will that hopes to harm another person no longer exist.

When we have cut off sexual desire, and destroyed anger and ill-will by taking maranassati (mindfulness of death) as our object, habitually thinking that we must die — why go and kill him? Even if we don't kill him he will die anyway; he already has suffering — why go torment him? Except that we should bind our hearts as friends to one another. We form that friendship using the four brahmaviharas as the basis — namely metta (loving-kindness). This does not mean sentimental attachment, wanting loving-kindness as an essential clinging support — we do not have that feeling. We hold only that when we are to die, he too will die. Parting from what is loved will happen; we regard it as ordinary. But while alive, we have loving-kindness and compassion, helping one another — this bond of friendship brings happiness to the heart. In this way we can become a full Anagami (Non-returner).

Once we have become an Anagami, we no longer need to be reborn as a human. To sit and be reborn as a human like a Sotapanna or Sakadagami — that is no longer for us. We have only a heart clear as crystal, with no bondage to sensual desire, no bondage to anger or ill-will; the mind is happy. When we die we become a deva or a Brahma, remaining there until we reach Nibbana.

Now, once we are an Anagami, it will not be long before we can become an Arahant, if we take death as the basic standard. Because even an Anagami must still die again — and this is suffering. Where is the suffering? Because while still human one must depend on the breath, must breathe, must have food as sustenance — this is still a burden. Now if one dies and becomes a deva or Brahma, there is still the duty of practicing to escape being a deva or Brahma in order to reach Nibbana further on. Since we have already become an Anagami, it is better to go all the way and become an Arahant.

At this point we no longer need to bring up death as our object. Seeing that being a deva or a Brahma still has not exhausted suffering, we take up the Four Noble Truths as what lies ahead. Being a deva carries the duty of practice — one must still perform the task needed to reach Nibbana. Once the mind has reached this stage, we cut straight through to Nibbana at once — no need to go be reborn as a deva or a Brahma. At this point it becomes easy. Easy at what point? Easy once one is already an Anagami, because by then the mind is refined enough.

Next we cut off the defilements that are the latent tendencies (anusaya) — that is, intoxication with fine-material jhana (rupa-jhana) and formless jhana (arupa-jhana). Do not sit intoxicated with rupa-jhana and arupa-jhana, clinging to them as excellent and supreme — that will not do. Regard rupa-jhana and arupa-jhana as a ladder-step into Nibbana, as a strength of mind, as armor that controls the strength of mind only so as to maintain concentration. Then we do not cling to either rupa-jhana or arupa-jhana; we use them as a ladder-step upward into Nibbana, controlling the power of jhana to keep it normal.

Cut off conceit (mana) — the pride of holding oneself as this or that. Thinking 'I am better than him, I am worse than him, I am equal to him' — throw all of it away. Think that the condition of the body is the four elements; it has no constancy, it changes, and in the end it dies. What can we use as a measure to say we are better, worse, or equal to him? Whosever body it is, it belongs to that person. The claim of being better does not hold up. Why? Because it is born, ages, sickens, and dies just the same. One cannot say we are equal either — one may say he is hungry and we are not, we are drowsy and he is not, we are old and he is not, we die and he has not yet died — so what is there to be equal in? Equality cannot be found either way. Nor can one say who is worse than whom — why? Because we are born, age, sicken, and die equally. Thus conceit — the pride of holding oneself as equal to another, superior to another, inferior to another — has no place for us. Even toward animals we feel no aversion, because they are our fellows in birth, aging, sickness and death; they too have a body made of the four elements; they too feel hunger and thirst, sickness and discomfort, old age, and death in the end. We hold them as fellow-beings in birth, aging, sickness and death just like us. Thinking this way, the mind draws fully close to Nibbana. Two things remain: uddhacca — restlessness/distraction.

In truth, even as an Anagami the mind is still restless. When we say that sitting in meditation cannot keep the mind still forever, it is for no other reason than that we are not yet an Arahant. As long as one has not yet reached Arahantship...

The mind will still not be settled. But the restlessness of an Anagami does not go so far as to break precepts; it does not reach the point of destroying the Dhamma. But it holds one back, making progress slow — that is, because of happiness. One still thinks that happiness is a cause for being reborn in heaven, or that happiness is a cause for happiness in this life and the next. The mind thinks off the track, not fixing on Nibbana as its object. The mind is still not exactly on target — meaning it has not yet settled precisely on the point. The mind that should go close to Nibbana does not readily go; it is blocked in front and behind, thinking of this and that. But regarding what is wholesome in this respect, the Lord Buddha, the Great Teacher, has us use anapanasati (mindfulness of breathing) together with vipassana-nana (insight knowledge), to keep our mind well-fixed, specifically taking Nibbana as the object, wanting nothing else. We want Nibbana alone. Whatever wholesome deed we do, we do not wish to encounter being human, deva, or Brahma again — we want only Nibbana. If our mind feels this way at all times, forever, the heart holding only Nibbana — this is called having cut off uddhacca, restlessness. The mind becomes clear as crystal, and can enter Nibbana.

Once the mind has taken Nibbana as its object, only one latent tendency remains: avijja, ignorance — a small amount, not much. That is, there is still a lingering wish, a desire for the human world, the Brahma world, the deva world. Seeing that once born one ages, then sickens, full of suffering — even if we are born as a deva, there is still a duty to perform; it truly is not happy. A deva still has sensual desire (kamacchanda) — there still being women and men, which we do not want, and there is disturbance for the heart. Even though it is happier than human beings many millions of times over, it is still not good to the utmost; there is still a heavy burden of feeling. We still wish to become a Brahma. But a Brahma still has states to be practiced, subsisting on the rapture of the Dhamma (piti) as food. One wants Nibbana, but the heart still has happiness, has not yet reached Nibbana, still has duties left to perform — they still remain. Therefore the Great Teacher taught us to cut off being a deva or Brahma — we do not want it; we want only one thing: Nibbana.

Once the mind reaches the point of Nibbana, we will observe that greed, as well as lust (raga) — delight and attachment in forms, sounds, smells, tastes, and touch — and the wish for wealth, the desire to be rich, to be a rich man, a very rich man — these no longer exist in us. Because as long as we are alive we must still engage...

...work for one's livelihood, making one's status prosper and flourish — this the Great Teacher does not forbid. But we must not cling to possessions. While we live we seek things to sustain our person, for our own sake, for our children and spouse. But all wealth and possessions will eventually disintegrate, disappear, or crumble — we regard this as ordinary; the mind is not shaken. If we must be parted from it, if we must die away from our wealth, we do not feel burdened, we regard it as ordinary. Thus the desire to be human no longer exists for us; the wish to be a deva does not exist; the wish to be a Brahma does not exist. When there is no craving, no greed, then there is no anger either, and the mind is at ease. The mind that would think 'this is me,' 'that is mine,' 'this is mine' no longer has a place in the heart — because these are worldly possessions; when we die we cannot take them along, and even while alive we cannot hold onto them for long. We do not want these things. The mood is full of happiness, accepting the ordinary law of nature as normal. Whatever comes from any direction, the heart is unshaken. If slandered, the mind remains indifferent and at ease; if someone praises us, we do not delight in it either. Our mind does not accept or value the 'goodness' or 'badness' that people ascribe to us. Our mind is at ease, having cut off defilements by utter eradication (samuccheda-pahana); there is no feeling of any kind that can shake the mind. This type of mind the Great Teacher, Lord of the Three Worlds, considers a mind that has already reached Nibbana — fulfilling the wish of the Lord of the Jeweled Lamp (the Buddha) that every one of us attain it.

What has been said about maranassati-kammatthana briefly in two sessions — last night and tonight — if you all consider it carefully, this single meditation subject alone, combined with vipassana-nana, can bring one comfortably to Nibbana. As for the maranassati-kammatthana that the Lord of the Three Worlds has us contemplate, it applies only when the mind is of the buddhi-carita (intelligent) temperament — the mind is clever. If the mind is still composed of raga-carita (lustful), dosa-carita (hateful), moha-carita (deluded), vitakka-carita (speculative), or saddha-carita (faithful) temperament, then maranassati-kammatthana cannot yet be used by us. But whenever the mind is at ease, feeling weariness toward forms, sounds, smells, tastes, and touch and so on, not inclined toward anger and ill-will, the mind clear and unobstructed — then one should take up maranassati-kammatthana combined with vipassana-nana, in the ordinary hope of Nibbana. What has been said so far is a viewpoint given for you to listen to and consider — having listened, you must remember; having remembered, you must think it over; having thought it over, take it and compare how much happiness and suffering there is, and how you should conduct yourself. Because listening and then throwing it away brings no benefit; it brings harm — namely, being born and wasting time for nothing, then dying...

...and instead of us doing well, we go down. If the mind becomes clouded and defiled, we go to the states of loss (apaya-bhumi) — hell, the peta (hungry ghost) realm, the asurakaya realm, and the animal realm. If we have a good disposition — that is, a wholesome state of mind, wanting oneself to be happy — then having relied on this, remember it; having remembered, think it over and reflect at all times. It is not a matter of sitting down to reflect only occasionally — take this very moment to consider that we shall die, that the body is suffering. If one thinks this way, one certainly will not escape hell, because it is far from goodness. Well, that is enough said for now; I hope you have understood at least somewhat. From here on, may everyone hold the body upright and steady the mind firmly, note the breath going in and out, use your recitation word and contemplation as you are inclined, until you hear the signal announcing that time is up.

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31. Upasamanussati (Recollection of Peace/Nibbana)

From this point on, all of you Buddhist disciples have together undertaken the precepts and the meditation subject; that done, first of all, you try to gather your mental strength into concentration (samadhi). The word samadhi means having the mind firmly established in one particular object — the important thing is where the mind is fixed. That is: maintain anapanasati-kammatthana, namely the in-and-out breath. When breathing in, know that you are breathing in; when breathing out, know that you are breathing out, without thinking of anything else. This is called the mind being in samadhi. And from here on, may all you Buddhist disciples set your minds to listen and study the meditation subjects in their proper order.

Yesterday we spoke of maranassati-kammatthana. Today, going further, please study the next topic, the ninth of the recollections (anussati), which is upasamanussati-kammatthana. Everyone studies the meditation subjects in sequence so that you may retain the knowledge — that in developing meditation, if one's knowledge is not truly thorough, it becomes a burden to the mind. Because if one does not study fully, it will not be good; should some other person be practicing as we do — supposing it is within the scope of the meditation taught by the Lord Buddha — we should not object that they are practicing wrongly. To do so would be to consider ourselves destroyers of another's goodness, while we ourselves gain no benefit either — this is considered a grave karma, a destruction of another's good, and we ourselves lose our own goodness along with it. Therefore, to help everyone remain steady within the teaching of the Lord Buddha, each night a different meditation subject has been brought forward to introduce to the Buddhist disciples, so that they gain thorough knowledge — because every meditation subject has an equal result on the side of calm-meditation (samatha-bhavana), that is, making the mind into concentration.

Today I wish to speak about upasamanussati-kammatthana. This meditation subject is used specifically by those whose temperament is buddhi-carita (the intelligent temperament) — or, put another way, it is used at whatever time the mind becomes clever. We use the time when cleverness arises. If the mood is still foolish, it cannot be used; it does not suit the temperament. The word upasamanussati-kammatthana means to recollect Nibbana as one's object. This meditation topic is very high. Those whose minds can truly reach and recollect Nibbana as an object, without ever letting go of Nibbana, are from the level of Sotapanna (Stream-enterer) upward. But for us, who have not yet reached Sotapanna, we can still use it, because we will notice that our attention has some deficiencies and lapses here and there — this is normal. Not...

...steady and constant. But if, according to the level of one's mind, one has attained from Sotapanna upward, then the wish for Nibbana has no deficiency, and it remains steady as normal. Recollecting Nibbana as one's object then feels not difficult at all. So one settles down to recite: 'Nibbanam, Nibbanam,' and thinks of Nibbana as the object. But if we merely think the word 'Nibbanam, Nibbanam' blankly, this seems to turn into a parrot-like or myna-bird-like recitation — but we must use it properly.

That is, before using the word 'Nibbanam,' one must consider what 'Nibbana' is. The word 'nibba' is translated as 'extinguishing.' As for its grammatical form, there is no need to pay attention to that. The word 'Nibbana' means to extinguish — extinguish what? It extinguishes defilements (kilesa), craving (tanha), clinging (upadana), and unwholesome kamma. In sum, it means extinguishing all evil states of mind. The evil that forms the great root that clings and consumes people's hearts is: attachment, or greed, anger, and delusion. These are the roots of evil; other kinds of evil are just the branches and stems growing from these three roots just mentioned. If we can cut down the trunk and uproot these roots entirely — that is, if we cut off attachment, greed, anger, and delusion (in truth, attachment and greed are one and the same) — completely, then we reach Nibbana, called 'extinguishing.' Even though one has not yet died, one is already said to speak of Nibbana. The word Nibbana does not always mean one must die. Nibbana means to extinguish — that is, to extinguish defilements, from the smallest to the greatest, entirely.

Then we sit and consider: why must defilements be extinguished? To use this upasamanussati-kammatthana, one must use wisdom (pañña) — as already said, a foolish person cannot use it. One might ask, who is wise? One might say oneself is wise, because on some days, at some times, one has a wise state of mind; at other times the mind is caught up in lust, in loving beauty and adornment; at other times the mind is caught up in anger, called dosa-carita (hateful temperament); at other times the mind is caught up in delusion and worry, unable to settle on any thought; at other times faith and serene confidence (saddha-pasada) arise; at other times the mind's mood is bright and clear. This is called the six temperaments (carita) — they all exist within us, in the same one person, but occur according to time, occasion, and circumstance.

Now, if our mind happens to be clear and we think: Nibbana has happiness; being born human brings suffering; being born a deva or Brahma still does not escape suffering — if the mood thinks this way, it is called the mind being at ease, and it is usable; one can use upasamanussati-kammatthana, reflecting that being human is indeed suffering, a happiness that is only temporary — that is, once the power of one's merit and accumulated virtue (vasana-baramee) runs out, one must return to suffering again. So it is better that we not take ourselves back — better to go to Nibbana.

Then, as for how going to Nibbana is better, one must feel out the way to get to Nibbana. It is said one must cut off defilements, must dig up the roots and rhizomes of defilements and throw them away — dig up the root of greed, dig up the root of anger, dig up the root of delusion, and throw them all away. Once greed, anger, and delusion, all three, are gone, what remains? The connecting agents — defilement, craving, clinging, unwholesome kamma — no longer exist. That is, the mind becomes light; all defilements are extinguished. Nibbana means extinguishing — it truly is extinguished, completely extinguished. When defilements are wholly extinguished, the mind becomes open and unobstructed, the mind is at ease, the mind becomes an absorbed mind (appana-citta), untouched by either good or bad — it is complete. It reaches Nibbana.

Thinking this way, one can indeed think it — but wait. Thinking that we will cut off greed, cut off anger, cut off delusion — then what do we use to cut with? Sitting and considering: we bring in giving (dana) to cut off greed. Greed and craving/attachment are the same thing — because we love, we therefore want to get; because we love this thing or that thing, we therefore want to get it. This 'wanting to get' is the force that pulls inward. Now we must find a way that is its enemy, that is, the force that pushes outward — namely, giving alms regularly as a normal practice. Greed will gradually diminish, and in the end we will notice that greed can be completely released, because our resolve no longer clings to various possessions. We acquire possessions according to duty. Saying 'according to duty' means that people, once born, must earn a living; whether monk or novice, one must still depend on things, depend on using things just the same. When we obtain possessions, we feel satisfaction in them, but even so we keep them only to sustain our being — we are not intoxicated with various possessions, regarding all these possessions as things merely obtained. Since they were obtained, there is likewise a chance they will run out. If they do not run out, do not vanish during the time we are alive, then when we die we must leave them anyway. Having toiled almost to death to acquire them, one never gets the chance to truly own them. Thus we practice equanimity (upekkha), remaining indifferent — regarding it that when possessions come we are glad, when they come we use them, using them within the bounds of necessity. If by chance they run out, we are not shaken; or if we die and leave them, it does not matter, because it is an ordinary matter and the mind is unshaken. This is called greed dissolving away. This can be observed from encountering gain and honor. Besides that, one has a mind delighting in helping others — we give alms easily, we help easily; whoever is in suffering and trouble, if it is not beyond our ability, we give help at once without any delay, with the mind thinking this way constantly, at all times, in every era — meaning with every in- and out-breath we are ready to sacrifice in order to help others. This shows that greed has vanished from the heart. One must reflect in this way — but one must be very careful; it must be a natural, steady state.

Just now it was said that greed is gone. Someone might say: if greed is gone, why accept possessions at all when others give them? Well, the Buddha himself was one who had exhausted defilements, exhausted greed — yet when people offered things to him, he still accepted them. Having accepted, we are not intoxicated, not attached to gain and honor. When there is something to use, we use it; when it runs out, that is that. We hold that when we die we will part from it anyway — so we part from it, with no regret or longing; we regard it as ordinary. But while living, one must be careful not to be careless or slovenly, according to the monastic discipline (Vinaya) — one can see that the Buddha was extremely meticulous about the care of possessions. This does not mean that a person who has exhausted greed will refuse everything — not at all. When someone gives, we accept, but the heart does not cling; it is not mad for gain, not mad for status, not mad for praise, not mad for pleasure.

Now to the second point on the way to Nibbana — how does upasamanussati cut off anger? Once greed has been cut down, anger too becomes weaker in strength. Among these three defilements, if any one of them collapses, the other two also become considerably weakened, easy to destroy. To destroy anger, one is told to destroy it by the power of the four brahmaviharas, especially loving-kindness (metta) and compassion (karuna). Metta-citta means love; karuna means compassion/pity. As soon as one sees a person's face, sees a fellow villager's face, instead of seeing someone repulsive, instead of seeing them as an enemy, one instead sees someone lovable and pitiable. Why is this? Because what is lovable belongs to every person who shares the same birth, aging, sickness, and death — we regard them as fellow beings. Now, if we see that they suffer, we feel compassion. If it happens that they do something wrong — commit some wrongdoing of one kind or another, and this becomes a cause of dislike for us, especially someone we disliked in the past and even now — instead of getting angry, we instead feel compassion. Why? Because their wrongdoing provokes trouble for others — that is itself an act of creating enemies, creating trouble for oneself. They act that way, speak that way, think that way; in truth their own heart has no happiness. They make us angry, but we instead have loving compassion, thinking: 'how regrettable — this kind of behavior is itself a symptom of suffering, a cause of burning distress. How foolish of them to create enemies for themselves this way.' It is itself one symptom of suffering. A person with many enemies cannot eat comfortably, cannot sleep comfortably, cannot even stay awake in peace — must be on guard at all times, fearing that someone will come to harm them. Seeing other people who have wrong states of mind, wrong temperaments thinking that way, instead of being angry we instead feel compassion, loving-kindness — but if we wish them well...

...and they do not accept our good will towards them, then we maintain equanimity, remaining indifferent, holding to that. If the mind's normal state is like this, it will be unable to break through and destroy anger; or if using the four brahmaviharas does not suit one's temperament, the Lord Buddha also allows the use of one of the four kasinas — the red kasina, green, yellow, or white — whichever one, to bring about jhana-attainment, because these four kasinas serve specifically to destroy and utterly annihilate hatred (dosa).

Once we have used one of the four brahmaviharas to suppress and remove the feeling of anger, we then apply vipassana-nana, that is, contemplation on sakkaya-ditthi (the view of self), reflecting and seeing that this bodily condition is not us, is not ours; we are not within the body, the body is not within us. It is merely the four elements that have come together to form the dwelling we inhabit — the same for townspeople and villagers, the same for other creatures too. Now, when people get angry and curse one another, they are not cursing the mind — they are cursing the body, cursing the four elements, cursing earth, water, wind, and fire. They are not cursing us, because our true self is actually the mind (citta), which they cannot see. So they curse the four elements — so what does it matter? As long as we simply refuse to accept it, the curse falls back on them; ease of mind arises for us; the mood of the mind becomes comfortable. One thinks: people are all bound to die eventually — why sit and be angry, sit plotting harm and vengeance against one another, for what benefit? Whether we kill them or not, they die anyway. If we harm them, they suffer; if we do not harm them, they still suffer — so just let them suffer on their own; better that they die on their own; no need to go tire ourselves over it. If we happen to meet someone who acts badly, provoking us in various ways to make us feel hatred, we can simply smile, thinking that this kind of person is not a good person, is a person destroying themselves, a person deserving of pity rather than anger. If our mind thinks this way, ease will eventually arise, and we will have succeeded in destroying anger. This is the second step by which we walk closer toward Nibbana, because it has been extinguished — greed is extinguished, anger is extinguished.

What remains then is only delusion (moha). Deluded about what? Deluded about the bodily condition, taking it as 'us,' as 'ours' — thinking we exist within the body and the body exists within us. We think that our bodily condition will remain unchanged forever, with no decay, no aging, no death, no sickness — even though it ages every day, we fail to see the aging; it deteriorates every day, we do not see the deterioration; it dies a little every day, it wastes away — the breath that comes in and goes out, life itself, is wasting away, and we fail to see it. This very failure to see is itself the delusion, moha.