Kammatthana Practice Lp Ruesi Ling Dam Vol3

Now, how shall we look at this? Let us set our mind to contemplate and seek the truth of what the Buddha said: a person who is born is impermanent, is suffering, is not-self. Is this true? Watch other people — those younger than us, then those older than us. Our own original condition was that of a child; now we have become as we are; before long we too will grow old like that other person. Then watch those who have died — before long we too will die just as they did. Now let us look at life itself: for it not to age, not to sicken, not to die — what use is that hope? If we accept and acknowledge that having been born we must certainly grow old, that the state of sickness and unease will certainly come, that suffering of body and mind is present all day long, and that in the end we must dissolve — why is this so? It is because of the folly by which we cling to the body, that is, the five aggregates (khandha). If we simply do not cling to the body — the five aggregates — alone, we hold that these five aggregates, in truth, are not us and are not ours. If they truly were us, truly were ours, they would have to not age, not sicken, not die, because we do not wish them to be that way. This shows we cannot forbid it.

Since the five aggregates are not us and not ours, what should we do to reach Nibbāna? Since they are not us and not ours, we let go and leave them to their true owner. Their owner is the defilements and craving, clinging (upādāna), and unwholesome kamma, because greed, anger, and delusion are the owners of the five aggregates. Once we and they are separated, we release the five aggregates as their affair, and make our own mind happy — thinking that the five aggregates, made up of the four elements, are not ours, are not us; they are a dwelling we inhabit temporarily, like a rented house. From the moment we come to occupy this house, it is filled with suffering. From now on we no longer want it, because this house is filled with badness, constantly deteriorating, and will finally collapse; it is filled with suffering, with no happiness to be found in it at all. Whenever this house collapses and we build a new one, a house of this kind still has suffering of this kind — we no longer want it. We want the house that has no task left to perform, that has only happiness — that is, the cessation of the feeling of suffering, which is Nibbāna.

How is this done — taking Nibbāna itself as the object of contemplation? We sit and go through it point by point, in brief: contemplate that this body is not us, is not ours; we are not in the body, the body is not in us. Then how do we manage to escape the body, so that we will never have a body like this again, so that there will be no more birth? To bring the mind to reach Nibbāna we use wisdom to contemplate the teaching of the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha, who said:

Should we believe it? When we consider with wisdom and see that it should be believed — that the Buddha's teaching is true beyond doubt — that alone suffices; just one more step and Nibbāna is reached. Once we no longer doubt that the Buddha taught in accordance with truth, the first thing we must do is cut off the woeful states by keeping the precepts pure. The precepts must be pure for both the ordained (monks and novices) and the laity alike. When one holds to the 227 precepts as a monk, each of the 227 is a hole in the mind; a deficiency in any single one shows that we have let the kindling of hell stick to our mind. If we keep every precept pure in every training rule, we can shut off the woeful states and become a Stream-Enterer.

Next, destroy sensual desire — satisfaction in sense pleasures — causing it to perish by the power of the meditation on foulness together with mindfulness of the body. Then destroy anger, causing it to perish by the power of the four Divine Abidings, or the four kasiṇa as already mentioned. In this way we become a Non-Returner — one step more and Nibbāna is reached. Next, strengthen our resolve so as not to be intoxicated by form-jhāna and formless-jhāna; destroy conceit, the holding of self-importance, entirely; destroy the mind's distraction. Whatever object we set our mind to contemplate in meditation, we hold to that object specifically. Then cut off love and attachment to the human world, the deva world, and the Brahma world; cut off the view that the human world, the deva world, and the Brahma world are beautiful and lovely — we want none of these three worlds. What we want is Nibbāna. When the mind loves Nibbāna as its object, free of greed, anger, and delusion — this is called reaching Nibbāna in the present life.

Well then, today's talk on the recollection of peace has run rather long, though I feel it is still shorter than the meditation on recollection of death. It has been given as knowledge for all you Buddhist disciples. One who cultivates meditation must study all 40 kinds of meditation subjects. At night I will try to teach one or two kinds of meditation per night — two might be too much, I'm afraid that won't do; you may only manage one. Some subjects will take two or three nights running. This is so that all of you may take this knowledge as an ornament for whenever some mood arises all at once, suddenly. It is not that we merely sit reciting "Buddho, Buddho" over and over regardless. When greed or a lustful temperament arises, use Buddho; when a deluded temperament arises, use Buddho; when an angry temperament arises, use Buddho — if a temperament of faith arises, then Buddho works and the result is certain. But if a lustful, angry, deluded, speculative, or intellectual temperament arises, Buddho alone will certainly not suffice — it will not match. One must use the meditation subject that matches the state of the temperament arising at that moment; only then will it bear fruit and lead to Nibbāna at once.

Well then, from this point on, I ask each of you to hold the body upright and keep the mind firmly established. Note the breath in and out: when breathing in, know that you are breathing in; when breathing out, know that you are breathing out. If you have never used, and are not fluent with, any other word of meditation, then use the word "Buddho": breathing in, think "Bud"; breathing out, think "dho." As for this word of meditation — if a person is already fluent in using some other word of meditation, there is no need to change; that person may continue using it as usual. Or you may use whichever object of contemplation — whether samatha meditation or vipassanā meditation — as already described, according to the knowledge you have, in order to destroy greed, anger, and delusion, these three; let it proceed according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing that time is up.

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32. Mindfulness of Breathing (Ānāpānasati)

Today I will speak on the meditation of mindfulness of breathing, which is counted as the last of the recollection meditations. Regarding this meditation: in the Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta it is placed at the very beginning, but among the ten recollections it is placed last. However, the method of practice need not necessarily begin with recollection of the Buddha first — we may take up any one of the ten recollection meditations as we wish, according to inclination. But specifically in the Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta, mindfulness of breathing is used as the first item, because it is the meditation that calms the mind's distraction. Speaking in terms of temperament, it is the meditation paired with the speculative temperament or the deluded temperament. "Vitakka" means constantly thinking and pondering; "moha" means foolishness — if one is foolish, one cannot make up one's mind. Speaking in terms of the hindrances, the deluded or speculative temperament corresponds to restlessness-and-worry, that is, a distracted and irritated mood — especially the distracted mood, because being distracted it does not hold to any one particular object, and so irritation arises. Now, regarding the cultivation of meditation, all the teaching masters who have already accomplished the practice mostly have students take up mindfulness of breathing first, paired with recollection of the Buddha. The reason for taking up mindfulness of breathing first is that everyone's mind is distracted — there is no one in the whole world whose mind is not distracted. Hence the Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta places mindfulness of breathing first, in order to calm the distracted mood.

As for this mindfulness of breathing, there are two ways of practicing it together. In particular, the form for the practitioner "liberated by wisdom alone" (sukkhavipassaka), as in the Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta — the Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta is specifically the sukkhavipassaka form. In it, one notes the breath in and out: breathing in, know that one is breathing in; breathing out, know that one is breathing out; whether the in-breath is long or short, whether the out-breath is long or short, know it. This is all the fixing of mind that is required — that is, there is no adjusting of any foundation whatsoever, because the sukkhavipassaka practitioner, in the beginning stage, uses only a small degree of concentration, and then contemplates insight-knowledge alongside it. There is no need to first set the object as jhāna, because this is a simple, easy method of practice.

There is no need for the type involving the threefold higher knowledge, the six higher knowledges (abhiññā), or the discriminating knowledges. Only one thing is needed: control the mind. Even with only a little control, one proceeds together with insight-knowledge. But relying on contemplating insight-knowledge together with a small degree of mental control, once the mind reaches the first jhāna, that jhāna has the power to cut off defilements by way of total abandonment, and one can become an Arahant all the same. Being an easy method, it is called sukkhavipassaka.

As for the forty meditation subjects, another arrangement is set out: specifically, for mindfulness of breathing, one is likewise told to note the in- and out-breath. Now, within the forty meditation subjects, four methods are taught: the sukkhavipassaka method, the tevijjo (possessor of the threefold higher knowledge), the chaḷabhiñño (possessor of the six higher knowledges), and the paṭisambhidappatto, that is, one who has attained the discriminating knowledges. Therefore the basic mental object set at the outset is set very high, as a middle-course method — not established on seven or eight bases as in the newer arrangement. The Buddha established three bases: that is, during in-breathing and out-breathing. When breathing in, note it at the nose — the breath strikes the nose, then flows on to strike the chest, then strikes the point slightly above the navel. When breathing out, the breath strikes the point above the navel, strikes the chest, and strikes the lips or the nose. If a person's lips protrude, the breath strikes the lips; if the lips curve inward, one takes the sensation at the nose. Remember this well. If you all obtain this one single meditation subject of mindfulness of breathing, the other forty subjects become very easy. The truly difficult meditation subject is precisely mindfulness of breathing, and it is the subject that is absolutely essential to accomplish. If you fail to attain this one subject of mindfulness of breathing, the other meditation subjects have no meaning. You might claim you did not get mindfulness of breathing but got the other subjects instead — got another thirty-nine subjects — but no one will believe this, because it cannot be believed. Whether we practice the ten kasiṇa, the ten foulness-meditations, the ten recollections, the perception of the repulsiveness of food, the four-element meditation, or anything else — if it is not practiced together with mindfulness of breathing, there is no way it will bear fruit. Therefore mindfulness of breathing is the greatest foundation, the leader of all meditation subjects.

So we have now spoken up through the ten recollections. Summing it up, it all ends at mindfulness of breathing. Therefore mindfulness of breathing must be discussed a bit more, because it is a major meditation subject. If one has lost this one...

...and the other subjects are all mastered. This mindfulness of breathing sustains power all the way to the fourth jhāna, just as the kasiṇa do. Mindfulness-of-breathing meditation is a major meditation subject sustaining power up to the fourth jhāna, and it is a subtle meditation subject that is difficult to grasp. Once one has grasped mindfulness of breathing, the other meditation subjects will feel easy.

Now, to sustain mindfulness of breathing steadily, so that it reaches the level of jhāna, one must have a properly important foundation in due order. I will bring up the matter the Buddha raised in the Udumbarika Sutta. As the first step, you must all control your resolve — keep yourselves constantly aware that we are conducting our minds to remain in a state of concentration, or to have a pure state of mind. We do not concern ourselves with other people's states of mind, other people's conduct. However good or bad they may be is their own affair and has nothing to do with us. If they are good, that is their own goodness; if they are bad, that is their own badness — we do not become good by association, nor do we become bad by association. That is, at this time we have entered the domain of the Buddha's Teaching. The Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha teaches us to be good, to practice goodness. As for how we are to practice goodness, the Buddha spoke in Pali: "Attanā codayattānaṃ" — always admonish yourself by yourself; do not go about sitting in judgment, admonishing other villagers — admonishing yourself is what matters. Keep yourself aware of what you are doing right now, what you need right now — especially, right now, as we cultivate mindfulness-of-breathing meditation, or indeed any other meditation subject as well, we must always remind ourselves, so that we know: right now we know the in-breath and the out-breath; we want to know which base the breath strikes, which base the in-breath and out-breath strike. We must always admonish ourselves and keep the mind under control in this way.

Now, as for the result to be obtained, the Buddha declared: "Attā hi attano nātho" — oneself indeed is one's own refuge; "Ko hi nātho paro siyā" — who else could be a refuge for us? "Attanā hi sudantena nāthaṃ labhati dullabhaṃ" — when we have trained ourselves well, we obtain a refuge that others can obtain only with difficulty. That is, this is the result of cultivating concentration meditation and insight-knowledge. The Buddha affirms that it is we ourselves who make ourselves our own refuge — meaning that once we have received the teaching of the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha, we must practice it ourselves, not go and sit begging teachers and masters to help now and then — asking for this person's merit-power to help, asking for the Buddha's merit-power to help, asking for a Silent Buddha's merit-power to help, asking for an Arahant's merit-power to help, asking for devas' and Brahmas' merit-power to help, and so on.

We call to mind and incline toward the goodness of the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha and the others just mentioned; that is indeed good. But do not imagine that we can have the Buddha come and make our mind concentrated for us — that cannot be done. The Buddha himself already affirmed: "Akkhātāro Tathāgatā" — Tathāgatas are only those who point the way. Goodness or badness is a matter for each of you yourselves to practice. Keep this well in mind; once remembered, do not forget it. Whenever you forget, that is when ruin comes. This word for "ruin" here is a softened form of the term; according to Buddhist doctrine, it is properly said that whenever you forget, that is when destruction comes — one has already become destroyed from goodness. This term seems to be the ordinary one used in Buddhism. If anyone destroys the result they were due to obtain, the Buddha said that such a person has "already been destroyed" — like the ascetics Āḷāra and Udaka, who were teachers and who taught the Buddha-to-be the four attainments and the eight attainments. When he had newly attained the awakening of full self-enlightenment, the Lord of the Triple World called to mind both his teachers, thinking that had the two of them heard his teaching just once, they would have attained arahantship. But at that time, both of them had already died out of the human state and been reborn as formless Brahma beings, with no opportunity to receive contact through the exposition of the Dhamma, because they had no sense faculties whatsoever — no ears, no eyes, no body at all. Hence it is said to be a pity that both teachers had already become destroyed from goodness. This word "destroyed" is an ordinary term, referring to those who have entirely dissolved away from what they were due to receive. If we call this "destroyed" and get angry about it — why be angry at them? If we ourselves are good, we will not be destroyed, will not come to ruin, will not dissolve away. This serves as a reminder to all of you: do not forget the words spoken above. Remember that we ourselves are the ones who can help ourselves.

As the first step, remember that we will not concern ourselves with any other person's state of mind; we will not concern ourselves with any other person's conduct. We will attend to only one thing: keeping our own state of mind settled on the side of wholesomeness, as the first priority. We resolve that whatever object we fix our mind upon, we will hold to that object specifically. This is the starting point. If you can manage your mind well in this way, the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha said that you have reached the outer crust of the Buddhist Teaching. You see — when the mind does not concern itself with the goodness or badness of other villagers, that reaches the crust of the Teaching. If our state of mind is still entangled, we do not even reach the crust. Test your own mind on this. Now, at this time, we intend to note the in-breath and out-breath; we intend to note the in-breath and out-breath; we intend to note specifically the in-breath and out-breath.

...so as to guard against the mind's distraction. But moreover, setting the mind to hold steady in this way is not so easy. Meditation practice is not something easy, but neither is it something difficult. Once you have controlled your state of mind well, not becoming entangled in other people's conduct, then keep the precepts pure — this is the second step. Because when one tries to keep the precepts pure, one does not destroy the precepts oneself, does not incite other villagers or townspeople to break the precepts, and does not rejoice when others have already broken the precepts.

Next, one must subdue the five hindrances. As for these five hindrances, we must be the victor, not the loser. If you lose to the five hindrances, it is as if you had written down and chosen for yourself which hell-pit to descend into. If you are ordained as well, all the more comfortable it will be — you will descend into the great Avīci hell wondering why it is so intense. Why is it that elsewhere no one speaks of this? It is because elsewhere they simply are not concerned with it — whichever hell-pit one wishes to descend into is left to one's own will, but this establishment does not want anyone to descend into hell. Still, if someone truly wants to descend, that too cannot be prevented; we can only advise. Now, for us to sustain concentration well, not becoming entangled in others' states of mind, and having pure precepts, is still not enough to attain the good result. I have already told you that having pure precepts alone is still not sufficient — the Buddha has not yet declared it so; it is not yet reckoned as truly belonging to the community of the noble ones. One must also have the state of mind that has conquered the five hindrances. While we sustain concentration, the mind fixed on the in- and out-breath, the mind must not be preoccupied with:

1. Sensual desire — that is, beautiful forms, pleasant sounds, delicious tastes, fragrant smells, soft and pleasing touch, the mood of dwelling upon sense-objects with desire. This sort of activity must not be present while we sustain concentration, or while noting the in- and out-breath.

2. We will have no mood of anger or ill-will occupying the mind at that time.

3. While we note the in- and out-breath, we will cut off drowsiness so that it does not become master of our heart.

4. We will control our own state of mind specifically during the time we have set.

5. We will have no doubt in the teaching of the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha, believing that the result of this practice truly bears good fruit.

These five hindrances — at every moment you wish to sustain concentration, every one of you must guard against letting them come and entangle the mind, absolutely without exception. But if one merely goes on thinking, "Well, as for winning, the time given to cultivating meditation is still too light" — how many minutes a day do we actually sit and cultivate meditation? We let the mood...

...drift, for how many minutes? Look at whether the amount of time is comparable or not. Even if the amount of time is comparable, one is still to be called a person half in hell, half in heaven. In truth, these five hindrances — especially if one is ordained — should not be allowed to come and entangle the mind even for a single second out of the 24 hours. Whenever the hindrances do not come to entangle your mind, at that moment your mind is fixed as jhāna immediately. If any one of the hindrances comes to entangle the heart, at that moment the word "concentration" does not apply to your mind — understand this well.

Once the hindrances are subdued and the mind has decisively conquered them, one must then sustain the four Divine Abidings: that is, mettā (loving-kindness) — love, spreading love, compassion, wishing to be a friend throughout the whole universe, holding that we have no enemy, that all beings and persons are dear to us; karuṇā (compassion) — a compassionate mind, wishing to help both people and animals attain happiness; muditā (sympathetic joy) — a gentle mind, rejoicing when others prosper, not envying or begrudging anyone; upekkhā (equanimity) — regarding whatever lies beyond one's control — birth, aging, sickness, death, separation from what is loved and cherished, the arrival of death — the mind does not struggle, but lets it be an ordinary matter and remains equanimous.

If you sustain pure precepts, subdue the five hindrances, and sustain the four Divine Abidings continuously, day and night, in this way the Buddha said that you possess goodness reaching the outer bark of the Buddhist Teaching. This point truly must be done well. As for mindfulness of breathing, we must discuss it at length, because it is a major meditation subject; we will also have to speak of the four jhānas or the eight jhānas, in due order. New students, please set your mind to practice this well, because the teaching of meditation given here at night does not repeat, until the forty meditation subjects and the insight-knowledges are completed. Whoever comes earlier or later, I take no responsibility for that, because right now what we need is to explain so as to be understood, for the sake of the result in practice only; so I will teach according to the proper sequence without going backward.

Now, as the first point, before we finish, I ask you all to listen with intent: at this time we will know the in-breath and the out-breath, until the time runs out — that is, until we hear the signal announcing that time is up. Let us leave it at this much for now; tomorrow we continue anew. From here on, I ask everyone to hold the body upright, keep the mind firmly established, note the in- and out-breath, use the word of meditation and contemplate according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing that time is up.

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33. New Year's Blessing

The new year will come creeping in step by step; this simply means our life has advanced one more year. As the new year that is moving in arrives, we too will grow older still; our life will keep walking on toward its extinction, because it is the nature of life that once there is arising at the beginning, there is change in the middle, and finally there is death, breaking apart, and destruction of the lineage. This is the ordinary law of living things, which we cannot escape or avoid. And especially, the coming year B.E. 2519 [1976] is reckoned to be the most critical year of Thai national life in this era, because it falls within a period of very heavy crisis — the turbulence occurring in the world, in human life.

This too is to be regarded as perfectly ordinary. The Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha declared that the world is bound to perish in the end; nothing remains fixed. Now, as for us Buddhists, in our position as followers who hold the Buddha as foremost, the Pali text states: a person who has attained the Triple Gem will not be destroyed — that is, will not perish through the power of the world, which is filled with turbulence. This is because the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord and Great Teacher prophesied that when 2,500-odd years had passed, the Lord and Elder of the World spoke a royal utterance to Ānanda, saying: "Ānanda, Ānanda, behold! When the Buddhist religion has passed 2,500-odd years" — that is, after the midpoint of the Buddhist era, [namely] 15 years before that midpoint, that is, from B.E. 2485 [1942] onward — "the world will be filled with crisis. Fire will fall from the sky, fire will blaze in the sky, iron rain will fall from the sky. People will suffer greatly and die in great numbers." And the Blessed One went on to say further: "Ānanda, behold, Ānanda! The crisis — that is, the severity of the world — 15 years before the midpoint of the Buddhist era, will indeed be severe, but it will not be as severe as after the midpoint of the Buddhist era." On this the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord, Conqueror of Māra, the Great Teacher, declared: "Behold, Ānanda! The stone giant that was cursed will rise up and rampage. Giants outside the Buddhist religion will make war and slaughter one another, falling by half their number, before it will cease — ascetics, monks, and brahmins will perish. But the countries that hold to Buddhism will face this same danger, though not so severely — not to the point of total ruin." This is the prophecy that the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord, Refuge of the World, the Teacher, has prophesied.

Now, the prophecy of the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord of the Triple World, the Great Teacher, has proven true: 15 years before the midpoint of the Buddhist era, that is, from the year 2485 [1942] onward, the Second World War broke out. When that war ended, the crisis of the world still did not settle down — fighting and killing continued as the normal state of things. This period, being after the midpoint of the Buddhist era, saw great numbers of ascetics, monks, and brahmins perish. Thus the prophecy of the Blessed One turned out to be exactly true. Another point that the Blessed One stated was that countries which hold to Buddhism would likewise face danger, but not so severely; and Thailand in particular is held to be a country that upholds Buddhism.

If we consider matters truthfully, we shall see that among all the countries that hold to Buddhism, no country has preserved the teaching of the Fully Enlightened Well-Gone Great Teacher as completely as Thailand. In Thailand we have all three: the Sutta, the Vinaya, and the ultimate teaching (paramattha), that is, the Abhidhamma. As for other countries, such as Burma, for the most part they are not strict in matters of the Vinaya — faults regarding the Vinaya are not treated strictly there, because it is considered unimportant; they favor only the side of the paramattha, that is, the Abhidhamma alone. According to the Pali saying: the Sutta belongs to Thailand, the Vinaya belongs to the Mon, the Abhidhamma belongs to Burma — meaning that in Thailand we favor the Sutta, but we also possess the Vinaya and the Abhidhamma in full. As for the Vinaya of the Mon, this means that the Mon country is strict in the Vinaya in the Mon manner. As for Burma, they have set aside the Sutta, set aside the Vinaya, leaving only the Abhidhamma. We can thus see that Thailand still upholds all three — the Sutta, the Vinaya, and the Abhidhamma — together. When we consider this in light of the stream of true Dhamma teaching of the Fully Enlightened Lord of Buddha-knowledge, as he prophesied to Ānanda, we shall see that Thailand upholds the Vinaya — that is, reveres the Lord of the Triple World — in accordance with the Buddha's prophecy. Thailand is therefore held to fall within the scope of the prophecy the Buddha made, meaning it may well not be destroyed. In revering the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord of the Triple World, the Great Teacher, there is the Pali saying: "Buddho appamāṇo" — that is, the virtues of the Buddha are beyond measure. Reverence for the Dhamma: "Dhammo appamāṇo" — reverence for the Dhamma, that it is beyond measure, or that the virtues of the Dhamma are beyond measure. "Saṅgho appamāṇo" — the virtues of the Noble Sangha are beyond measure.

Reverence for the virtues of the Triple Gem — the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha — can sustain our life and happiness and keep us safe from danger. Consider an example: when the Lord, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, was still living, at that time the Great Teacher was residing at Veluvana Mahavihara. It happened that King Bimbisara, the great monarch, was invaded by King Campabodi. He flew up into the sky and saw that the spire of King Bimbisara's palace was even more beautiful than his own; envy arose in him, so he descended and stood upon the palace spire, drew the sword that was always with him, and struck at the spire. In truth, that sword was so keen that even a thick bar of iron would be severed instantly with no great force. But because King Bimbisara had reverence for the Great Sage — that is, the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha — the Threefold Refuge in all three respects, and especially because he was a Stream-Enterer (Sotapanna), by the power of the Buddha's might, the Dhamma's might, and the Sangha's might, the spire was protected. Instead of the spire being severed, King Campabodi's sword chipped and broke. Feeling aggrieved, he then stamped his foot upon the spire, which caused the iron of the spire to pierce through his foot and wound it. He became extremely angry, flew back to his own country, and then used an "Avitasorn" (a magical arrow) to pierce through the royal ear — that is, to pierce the ear of King Bimbisara. This was an arrow of a special kind; when it arrived it proclaimed, "We shall pierce the ear of King Bimbisara." When King Bimbisara learned of this, heard it, and saw it, he became afraid, and so went to pay homage to the Lord, the Jewel Lamp, the Great Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha. In the end, the power of the Triple Gem, with the Buddha foremost, was able to avert that danger. In the end, King Campabodi too was compelled to come and pay homage to the Supreme Teacher; having heard the Dhamma teaching, he became devoted, was ordained in the Buddhist religion, and attained the fruit of Arahantship, becoming a Noble One within the Buddhist religion. This shows that King Bimbisara escaped danger chiefly by relying on the virtue of the Triple Gem, by virtue of his having attained the state of Stream-Enterer, being firmly established in the virtues of the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha, and having the Five Precepts as an eradicated defilement — that is, keeping the Five Precepts as a matter of course.

Therefore, today is the last day of the year 2518 [1975 CE]; the year 2519 [1976 CE] B.E. is now arriving, and it will be a year filled with crisis for the country of Thailand. Therefore, may all you Buddhist devotees, monks...

Novices, laymen, and laywomen — do not be heedless of your lives. Keep your minds firm in the virtues of the Triple Gem in all three respects, that is, the virtues of the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. Direct the mind to be correct specifically toward what the Buddha, the World Protector, has taught. How do we go about upholding goodness according to what the Lord, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, told all of us — to be pure in every training precept? That is, especially for monks and novices, it is necessary to fully and completely uphold all the training precepts. For lay people it is likewise necessary, though some are able to keep the precepts fully while others are limited by the necessities of life. Therefore let us establish this as truth: whichever precept among these five we resolve to uphold for our whole life, we shall not violate it. Set the mind toward the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, [and resolve] that in this life, whichever one or two precepts are not beyond our capacity, we shall uphold them fully, not allowing them to become tainted. For whoever is able to uphold all five precepts, or all eight, so much the better; this is called having reverence for the Lord, the Victorious One, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, in one's conduct of body, speech, and mind — and as for resolve of heart, that is of great importance. All Buddhist devotees who maintain goodness recollect the merit of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha, holding the Buddha's virtues especially firmly in mind as paramount.

How does one recollect the Buddha's virtues? To recite at great length is unwieldy — "Itipiso Bhagavā..." and so on to the end is not feasible. Therefore the teachers of old established that whoever wishes to recollect the merit of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, should recite "Buddho." Use the word "Buddho" as a habitual practice, reciting it every day and every night, at all times. But being able to recite it continuously all day and all night is in fact impossible, because the mind necessarily has the burden of thinking this and that; sometimes one must converse with others. Since it is impossible to be mindful every moment of every day, what then should one do so as not to lapse? The wise teachers of old taught: just before sleeping, let all Buddhist devotees fix the mind on recollecting the virtue of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, as the meditation object, noting the in-and-out of the breath as "Buddho": on the in-breath think "Bud," on the out-breath think "dho." This is a form of goodness — or simply recollecting the virtuous qualities of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha — and this also protects against danger. At the time when you all recite "Buddho," hold saliva in the mouth while reciting.

...until it becomes second nature, the mind at ease, gradually swallowing the saliva. In this way, the virtue of the Triple Gem, with the Buddha foremost, will protect Buddhist devotees from every danger. Do this habitually right upon waking and before sleeping every day. While still awake, whenever it occurs to you, direct the mind to recollect the goodness of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, reciting "Buddho" as a habit. In this way, the minds of all Buddhist devotees are said to have reached the Buddha-Jewel, the Dhamma-Jewel, and the Sangha-Jewel in all three respects. Recollecting the goodness of the Lord, the Conqueror of Māra, is likewise said to fully attain goodness in all three respects: the Buddha could only become a Buddha by relying on the Dhamma; having attained the Dhamma, he attained the consecrated Perfect Self-Awakening and became a Buddha. The Dhamma of the Buddha that we are able to encounter, we owe to the Noble Sangha of old, who assembled in council and compiled it in verse, and so it has been handed down to us. Therefore recollecting the goodness of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, is said to fully attain the goodness of all three aspects of the Threefold Refuge.

As for recollecting the goodness of the Lord, the Conqueror of Māra, one uses the word "Buddho" as a habit. Strictly speaking, if our faculty is still weak — that is, the mind has not yet entered jhāna — then at death one goes to the heavenly deva-realms, such as the Tāvatiṃsa heaven. Consider the examples of Maṭṭhakuṇḍalī the deva-son, or Supatiṭṭhita the deva-son, and the deva-daughter Sādakī — these used mental power while faith was still weak, recollecting the goodness of the Lord, the Victorious One, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, for only a brief moment. Especially Supatiṭṭhita the deva-son, who committed evil — killing living beings — his whole life; but a few minutes before dying, he recollected the goodness of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha. By relying on that recollection at that moment, his mind became clear at death, and instead of going to the realms of misery, he was reborn in the Tāvatiṃsa heaven. Later, when the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, went to preach to his mother [in the deva realm], Supatiṭṭhita the deva-son heard the Uṇhissavijaya Sutta, and upon its conclusion attained Stream-Entry. All the sins he had committed had no opportunity to bear fruit.

This shows that recollecting the virtuous qualities of the Lord, the Ten-Powered One (Dasabala), brings benefit to all Buddhist devotees. Even though we may have committed sins and evil deeds ever so much, by relying on the goodness of the Lord, the Victorious One...

...are able to cure us and free us from calamity, that is, free us from the realms of misery. Therefore, may all Buddhist devotees not be heedless of life. Consider that from this moment on, the old year will pass away and the new year will arrive; let us maintain the truth and hold to goodness — that is, recollect the goodness of the Lord, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, without ceasing. The year 2519 B.E. [1976] will be a year utterly full of crisis. As for the method we, as ordinary human beings, will use to escape danger — consider the example of King Bimbisara, whose royal person was attacked by King Campabodi, but because of his firm reverence for the Lord, the Victorious One, the Great Teacher, in the end the danger was ended by the power of the Buddha. That was in the Buddha's own time. Coming to later ages, in a time when kings held special power, it happened that there were royal attendants — many of whom I personally knew, forming groups — a large group of people who habitually revered the Lord, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha. That is, in ordinary times they would not wear amulets on their bodies at all; they held that their minds were habitually already established with the Buddha. But their recitation never lapsed. As soon as they woke each morning, they would take up the word "Buddho" as a habit. In free moments, whenever the mind was free of other duties, they used the recitation "Buddho" — at times when they feared they might forget, in the morning, whenever going anywhere or staying at home, fearing danger might befall them, they were so advised. I myself once learned this directly — that is, I received the advice from that very person, from his own mouth. He said: "At times when we fear physical danger, hold saliva in the mouth, recite 'Buddho' fixing it firmly in mind as an act of consecration, then swallow it down three times." People of this sort, however heavy the clash with the enemy, however formidable the foe, always came through unharmed.

If one's goodness is at the utmost, heaviest degree [danger is fully averted]. If the mind holds goodness at a medium degree, they say the enemy's weapon will not fire at all. If one holds goodness at only a light degree, the mind still light, not yet reaching the utmost, the shot will not penetrate — so they say, and in truth it happens exactly so, because I went through it together with them; they were safe from every kind of weapon. Therefore, may all Buddhist devotees not be complacent, not be heedless of life. Think that the virtue of the Buddha, the virtue of the Dhamma, and the virtue of the Sangha, in all three respects, will...

...is able to sustain us and keep us alive. This applies especially to the time our lifespan is about to end: recollecting the goodness of the Lord, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, will free us from suffering.

Therefore, from now on, resolve that until the end of the year 2519 B.E. [1976], a year full of crisis when every direction of the world will be filled with turmoil, we shall hold constantly to the virtuous goodness of the Lord, the Victorious One, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha — that is, the recitation "Buddho, Buddho" as a habit. If this is done, all Buddhist devotees will have happiness in life, for their minds will be established in concentration; the power and merit of the Buddha will make their minds cool and at ease. Whatever danger may arise for them will be averted by the power of the Buddha's might, the Dhamma's might, and the Sangha's might. But when the time comes that our lifespan ends, the goodness of the Lord, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, will cause us to escape all four realms of misery — that is, not being reborn as a hell-being, a hungry ghost, an asura, or an animal. At the very least we would become a deva; if the mind has strong concentration we would attain the state of a Brahma. If our mind, as a matter of habit, does not cling to the Five Aggregates — [knowing that] form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness are not us, not ours — and our mind clings instead to the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, [thinking] "wherever the Buddha is, there I shall go," fixing the heart here, clinging to the Lord, the Dhamma-holder, the Great Teacher himself — if this is done, then all Buddhist devotees, once freed from defilements, will be able to attain Nibbāna.

Well then, all you Buddhist devotees, as the old year is about to end and the new year is about to come, may the power and merit of the Lord, the Victorious One, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, be foremost, and may the Dhamma teaching of the Lord, the Conqueror of Māra, the Great Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, together with all the Noble Sangha who hold the utmost reverence for the Lord, the Well-Gone One, the Great Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, protect and guard all of you Buddhist devotees, keeping you firm in the virtue of the Triple Gem. May you be safe from every danger. Whatever danger appears in the world, may it not befall the Buddhist devotees. May the minds of you Buddhist devotees be clear and free, released from defilements through total eradication, and may you attain Nibbāna in this very life.

We, all you Buddhist devotees — the time allotted for speaking has now run out. From here on, may all you Buddhist devotees practice according to the teaching of the Lord, the Jewel Lamp. Hold mindfulness of breathing (ānāpānasati) as your object [of meditation]. Note the in-breath and out-breath: on the in-breath, know that you are breathing in; on the out-breath, know that you are breathing out. On the in-breath think "Bud," on the out-breath think "dho." Or, if any of you Buddhist devotees wish to contemplate insight-knowledge (vipassanā-ñāṇa), or any other meditation subject, according to your own wish, [continue] until you hear the signal announcing that the time is up.

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34. Mindfulness of Breathing (Ānāpānasati)

Now that all of you Buddhist devotees have together undertaken the precepts and undertaken the meditation subject, this next period is an occasion for you all to fix the mind in concentration and insight-knowledge.

For today I shall continue speaking on the ānāpānasati meditation subject. But before you take up ānāpānasati, or any other meditation subject you may have studied before, as your object, I first ask all of you to fix your minds habitually on the truth of the Five Aggregates. The truth we should accept and hold to, which we call the Noble Truths, stated briefly, is: aniccaṃ — impermanence; dukkhaṃ — suffering; anattā — dissolution/non-self.

When birth occurs, the body naturally undergoes change as a matter of course — from being a child to being an adult, from having a strong and complete body to reaching decline, from maintaining the state of an ordinary healthy person to becoming a sick and unwell person, from being young to becoming old. This is called decline, that is, impermanence. Such impermanence is the ordinary nature of people and creatures born into the world.

But when impermanence manifests, suffering also arises — that is, physical and mental discomfort occurs. We do not want impermanence, yet impermanence must occur regardless. We cannot forbid its occurrence, because it is ordinary nature. If we do not use wisdom to contemplate and seek the truth, painful feeling arises. Where does it arise? It arises precisely where we do not want change in the body, do not want the body's sickness, do not want unfulfilled desires that arise in the mind — yet these must occur regardless. Having the wish for things to be otherwise, having a feeling that resists what naturally occurs — this is called being a person devoid of wisdom, lacking contemplation of the truth. When one lacks contemplation according to reality, when the truth appears and we do not want it, suffering then arises, because there is a resisting mental state.

When the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, taught us to accept and respect the law of reality, we maintain constant awareness that once birth has occurred, change will inevitably appear.

Old age arrives, sickness and discomfort arrive, and death will arrive in the end; the experience of separation from what is loved and cherished still occurs. Once our minds accept this reality and accept and respect this ordinary law, then when all these conditions appear, our minds remain at ease, for we already know that it must be so. Later, when death itself arrives, we regard it as an ordinary matter — why so? Because birth is followed by aging, illness, and finally death; thus, once birth occurs, death is its natural counterpart.

Once death has [thus been accepted], we turn to consider whether the body is truly us, truly ours, or not; we will see that the body is not us, not ours, because it has a beginning in birth, undergoes aging in the middle, and disintegrates in the end. We do not want this, yet we cannot prevent it. If it were truly us, truly ours, we would be able to prevent it. Seeing that it is not us, not ours — if we continue to be deluded about birth, we will again meet with death in this way. This is why the Buddha taught us to lay down the burden of birth; when we are not reborn, there is no death.

And how do we go about not being reborn? We must make the mind complete through giving (dāna), cutting off greed; make the mind complete through virtue (sīla), cutting off anger — for virtue can exist chiefly through the power of loving-kindness (mettā); and then cut off the delusion of holding the body's condition to be us, to be ours. We hold that it has a beginning in birth, undergoes change in the middle, and disintegrates in the end — this is a burden bringing suffering, and we no longer want it; we no longer cling to the Five Aggregates as being us, being ours. Then our minds have happiness. This concerns insight-knowledge (vipassanā-ñāṇa); in brief one should think this habitually, and should refine the thought further than this — though this is only the ordinary starting point. Buddhist practitioners who can think in this way will feel considerably more at ease.

Now, as for the mental state that truly sustains insight-knowledge, the mental state of all Buddhist devotees, men and women, must have concentration of mind as essential. One must suppress and eliminate distraction entirely, not allowing any mental state to interfere with [contemplation of] the body while considering insight-knowledge. The Lord, the Conqueror of Māra, the Great Teacher, said that suppressing distraction requires the use of ānāpānasati meditation as essential, because ānāpānasati is the meditation subject that suppresses the mind's distraction. Ānāpānasati medita-

...ānāpānasati meditation consists of noting the in- and out-breath. At a time when the mind is truly scattered, there is no need to use a recitation-word at all — use noting the in- and out-breath alone as the sole essential. If it is truly scattered, reciting will only make it more scattered still.

Now, how does one note the in- and out-breath? Set the intention specifically: on the in-breath know that you are breathing in, on the out-breath know that you are breathing out. This is the basic stage, the starting point of training. If one notes more specifically — noting whether the in-breath is short or long, whether the out-breath is short or long, and so on — this belongs to the side of the Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta, called the foundation for the "dry-insight" (sukkhavipassaka) practitioner. If we wish to study for the sake of the Threefold Knowledge (tevijjā), the six Higher Knowledges (chaḷabhiññā), or the attainment of analytical knowledge (paṭisambhidā-ñāṇa), then we must note the base-points of the breath: on the in-breath, the breath touches the nose, touches the chest, touches the point above the navel; [on the out-breath] it touches the chest, touches the nose or the lips. If a person's lips protrude, the breath will touch the lips; if the lips are drawn in, it will touch the nose.

The cultivation of ānāpānasati meditation divides into two kinds according to the final goal. If one is content with only sukkhavipassaka, there is no need to note the three base-points of breath. If one wishes concentration sufficient for the Threefold Knowledge, the six Higher Knowledges, or analytical knowledge, then the three base-points must be used — choose according to your own inclination. Now, noting the in- and out-breath is a difficult thing; when we merely speak of it, it seems not difficult, but in actual practice it is difficult, because our minds habitually like to be scattered and to think as a matter of course. The mind has the nature of flickering and struggling constantly, being extremely quick. Forcing the mind to remain still is like forcing a monkey not to move — likewise difficult. But it is not beyond our ability to accomplish.

At the first level, if we happen to have never practiced concentration of mind before, one should use only short periods, not too long, resolving that within just this short span we will not allow the mind to think of anything else at all, aside from what we have set — namely, to know the in- and out-breath. If the mind is not too scattered, one may combine any recitation-word as one wishes, and hold to just that, setting the mind at ten rounds specifically of the in- and out-breath: one in-breath and out-breath counts as one, another pair counts as two, and so on. Within this span of ten pairs of in- and out-breaths, we will not allow the mind to think of anything else whatsoever, except only...

...know the in- and out-breath — that alone is fine. Or one may combine recollection of the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha with it as well; there is no strict rule. If the mind is too scattered, use recollection of the Buddha combined with it: on the in-breath think "Bud," on the out-breath think "dho" — that too is acceptable, or one may recite whatever formula one wishes. This last part is teaching ānāpānasati proper, but it is not wrong to combine it either; if the mind is not too scattered it may be used, within a span of ten pairs of in- and out-breaths. Or, for Buddhist devotees newly in training, do not make the period too short either — we should not take the quantity of time as most important. In cultivating meditation one should hold quality as paramount. Using a quantity of time — sitting half an hour, one hour, two hours, three hours — if the mind is scattered and wobbling, unable to hold steady, it is no different from taking a basket to scoop water: scooping all day and all night, no water collects; at best, the basket only gets wet. It would be better to take a small dipper and scoop just once, so that a little water collects — that requires no great expenditure of time. This is the analogy. Practitioners who genuinely wish for good results — we are speaking of genuinely achieving good results, following what has actually been practiced and shown to be effective — should use brief periods, not overly long ones. But this is not a rule that shorter is always better; that is, use a short span, about ten pairs of in- and out-breaths. Within these ten pairs, we will not allow the mind to think of anything else at all. Whether or not we recite along with it, if we do recite, the mind stays fixed only on the recitation we intend. If it happens that within these ten pairs, before reaching ten, the mind flickers away to another object, as soon as we notice, we start over from the beginning — do not indulge it. In this way, reciting from one to ten, once we catch one pair of breaths we may count it on a finger, so the mind becomes steady — that is, forcing the mind to remain on one single object; this is called concentration (samādhi). And if, having counted from one to ten, the mind is still doing well, we regard this as the capital we set out to establish; if the mind is still not scattered, we count another ten — this we regard as profit. If we continue counting to ten and it is still fine, we continue for another ten. As for thinking, "how can this counting be concentration — true concentration should be intimately absorbed, needing to know nothing" — if you think this way, you are quite mistaken.

Knowing the in- and out-breath, being aware from one to ten — we consider that we are noting only this much. If the mind remains steady in this way, this is called concentration, because samādhi means firmness of intention — that is, having resolved to know only what we intend, and knowing only that much, we call this concentration. That is, when first training, do not use too much time; we do not wish to, nor need to, force the use of a great deal of time. If the mind is still maintaining a good state, it will maintain...

...for as long as it may, without restraint. If you see that the mental state has become too scattered, what should be done to stop it, or how should one proceed? This is a very important matter, requiring reliance on the guidance the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, gave on how to control the mind so that it does not scatter.

For a skillful practitioner, the matter of concentration is not difficult. Especially with ānāpānasati, it takes a number of nights of talking, because the time available for speaking each night is limited. If the mental state is truly badly scattered, there are two methods of practice. If it is truly scattered and truly cannot be controlled, one option is simply to stop — do not force yourself to continue, or the mind will struggle. If the mind is scattered and we cannot control it, it becomes distressed; distress brings agitation, and physical and mental discomfort appears. If one is careless and thinks too much about it, it can turn into a nervous disorder — there are cases of people who practiced meditation and went mad, losing mindfulness and clear awareness, because they did not know how to properly gauge themselves, which is essential. So there is one method: if it is truly too scattered, the Buddha says to stop.

And there is another method the Buddha recommended, using flexibility — flexibility being important. I myself have practiced both of these methods, and they truly work. But this second method is the one I like best. Both, however, are methods taught by the Buddha, and one may use whichever is preferred. In the second method, the Buddha taught: if it truly cannot be stopped, if it wants to think, wants to be scattered, do not think that you will be able to defeat it. When it is truly scattered, it truly cannot be controlled — except in the case where one is already a Noble One up to the fruit of Arahantship, or one who truly has mastery of jhāna, who can control it for a period of time; [even they,] in ordinary free time, would still be restless and agitated. If one is a Noble One from the level of Stream-Enterer upward, it is not yet entirely eliminated, but one remains established in wholesome mental states, with no unwholesome ones present. Once one reaches Arahantship, it becomes very comfortable — the whole day is at ease, inclined toward wholesomeness at all times, with nothing but coolness of mind.

Returning to the second method: if [the mind] is truly scattered, the Buddha says to let it think recklessly, since it cannot be controlled anyway. Whatever it wants to think, let it think as it pleases — do not oppose it. But resolve that as soon as it stops thinking, begin again. This method is very important — like a person controlling an unruly, wild horse. If the horse is wild and still has energy, one cannot force it onto the path. The teaching says: hold the reins loosely around its neck, and wherever it wants to go, let it run; let it run until it exhausts its energy. Once it has exhausted its capacity to run, its strength diminishes, and then we can direct it to run comfortably, to the right, forward...

...backward as well, since it has spent all its wildness. This is the analogy: our mind is the same — if it is surging and cannot be controlled, invite it to think as it pleases. Try it, try it and see, try it many times, because in the early stages it is likewise hard to control. So one lets it think as advised, and it will not take more than fifteen to twenty minutes before it stops thinking. Let it wander wherever it pleases, into whatever house or alley, never mind that. As soon as it stops thinking, bring it back to catch hold of the meditation object again — this time holding the object for only a second or two — and the mind's scattering will stop at once, because it is tired. The mental state may then be drawn into jhāna for a very long time, sometimes an hour or half an hour, without withdrawing; the mental state will be truly settled, truly established in concentration.

For these two methods, may all Buddhist devotees, men and women, monks and novices alike, try to overcome the mind by this means — that is, when you truly cannot fight it, let it think; once it stops thinking, draw it back to the in- and out-breath, reciting along with it if you wish. By this the mind will become very intimately settled into jhāna. This is the guidance of the Lord, the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha, which one must strive to practice at all times, because it is the very method that the Blessed One himself practiced and which bore fruit, as did all the Noble Ones who have attained, practicing likewise. Following the guidance of the Lord, the Conqueror of Māra, likewise bears fruit. One should not abandon it, but should hold to and practice it, because ānāpānasati meditation is what controls the mental state against distraction. This is a very important meditation subject. Whether we are cultivating the Threefold Knowledge, the six Higher Knowledges, analytical knowledge, kasiṇa practice, contemplation of foulness (asubha), or anything else — if we do not hold to ānāpānasati meditation, the mind will not settle into concentration. Therefore ānāpānasati meditation is regarded as the greatest of all meditation subjects, encompassing them all. This is why, in the Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta, the Blessed, Well-Gone One placed ānāpānasati first; at the very outset he taught ānāpānasati meditation first, as a means of controlling the mind against distraction. Well then, all you Buddhist devotees, the time allotted for our talk has now run out, so let us conclude here.

From now on, may all you Buddhist devotees try to hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in- and out-breath, reciting and contemplating according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing that time is up.

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35. Anapanasati (Mindfulness of Breathing)

Today I will continue speaking about the anapanasati kammatthana, because it is a major kammatthana. But before speaking about it, I want to remind you all: what result does the practice you have all been doing have for your mental concentration? If your mental state can hold only khanika samadhi (momentary concentration), no matter which kammatthana it is — the word khanika samadhi means "small concentration." If your mental state can hold only a little at a time, whether chanting, contemplating, or just noting the in-and-out breath — say we sit for half an hour or an hour, we can actually hold clear concentration for only 2-3 minutes. If the mind does not get entangled in the five hindrances — lust, anger, drowsiness, restlessness, or doubt — none of these present, the mind stays calm. "A calm state" means knowing the in-and-out breath, the words of chanting, or the contemplation as normal, for an hour or half an hour, but you can actually hold it for only 2-3 minutes. This is called khanika samadhi.

In truth, this khanika samadhi can cause rebirth in the Tavatimsa heaven — it is indeed a definite cause of becoming a deva. For example: Angkura the deva-son, or Supatitthita the deva-son, Matthakundali the deva-son, and so on. Before dying, they recollected the goodness of the Blessed One for just a single moment, and then died. Doing so, they were reborn in Tavatimsa as devas — this is a comparison. Now, for all of you who have practiced for many days, months, years — holding even a little concentration, but doing it every day, often — this has better quality than Matthakundali or Supatitthita the deva-sons, especially since your minds have wholesome states all the time. As for those mentioned — before, they had never revered the Lord Buddha regarding merit; they had never given any alms. But when about to die, they thought of the Buddha for just a single mind-moment and were able to go to Tavatimsa. We are far better than them — our stability and certainty are better. Therefore, the result that will arise in Tavatimsa should surely arise for us too. I ask you to be confident of your own goodness. This is the first point.

The second stage: when your mind enters upacara samadhi (access concentration), having passed through piti (rapture), there is freshness, elation, the mind is cool and calm, full and brimming with goodness. The piti has a constant sense of fullness — never bored with maintaining concentration. Even if you sustain it for only 5, 10, or 20 minutes, this upacara samadhi has freshness, goodness, a satisfied heart, no boredom in the practice. The mind is cool and calm but has not yet reached the first jhana. If you maintain yourself in upacara samadhi normally, once a day or once per session, whether much or little, this results in being reborn as a deva in the Yama heaven, continuing to cultivate perfections there.

If your mind enters the first jhana, its characteristics are like this: whether chanting, contemplating, or reflecting, the ear clearly hears outside sounds but we pay no attention, we are not annoyed by them; or when walking back and forth, relying on the piti of joy, we walk but chant a little here and there, on and off throughout the day. "Throughout the day" does not mean continuously without any break — it is not like that. When free from other mental objects, we chant and contemplate as occasion allows, sometimes more, sometimes less — but when contemplating we are not annoyed by others' sounds, whether there is much time or little. This is called the mind entering the first jhana. From the first jhana upward, it is certain that upon death you become a Brahma. As for the merit from this initial stage, we have not yet spoken of vipassana-nana (insight knowledge) — this is told so you know, otherwise you would not know which way to go; if you don't know the destination, your spirit sinks. Today I will continue speaking about anapanasati.

Last night I spoke of flexibility throughout the day in contemplating the anapanasati kammatthana. Now tonight's talk is for study — I will keep speaking until all 40 kammatthana subjects are covered. All of you who listen should remember it, not let it pass through your ears and be forgotten. Whatever mental state arises, use the kammatthana already described as suited to it, applying it at that moment to fit the occasion. Using the kammatthana to suit one's disposition or arising state — otherwise it produces no result, like a parrot or myna that can speak but does not understand. To say that practicing kammatthana produces no result is untrue, because our textbook already exists — the meditation practice manual — so there should be no need to discuss it again. But it is spoken again so it enters through the ear, since the textbook enters through the eye. If

If we still don't know it, we might as well go to hell cheerfully — that is beyond redemption, called padaparama; even the Buddha could not teach such a person. So we should make use of what we have — the textbook already exists, use it for benefit. To bring up unrelated matters and chatter noisily is a duty a monk must not perform — that would be wrong. As for cultivating concentration in anapanasati, as said last night, using the method of flexibility when practiced can give rise to a state that becomes jhana.

Speaking of khanika samadhi — this is where we note the in-and-out breath, considered a major subject within the 40 kammatthana. We can grasp khanika samadhi at this point: the point of catching the breath, the moment we breathe in or out — we cannot fix attention at all 3 bases at once. This matter of the breath needs caution; do not force it fast, slow, heavy, or light to produce sensation — that must not be done. Let it follow its own natural course, but bring mindfulness in to catch it. The method:

If you know the breath only at the nose — in or out known only at the nose — but it holds steady for 2, 3, or 5 minutes, this is called khanika samadhi, a small concentration; it is not the measuring standard.

When the in-breath is also known touching the chest — both in and out — in-breath touching the nose known, touching inside the chest known, but the center point not known; out-breath touching the chest known, touching the nose or lip-edge known — this reaches only 2 of the 3 set points. Holding these 2 points like this shows you have reached upacara samadhi. This is a detailed matter within anapana practice.

If you can note the sensation of breath touching the nose, the chest, and the center above the navel — on the out-breath touching the center above the navel, the nose or lip-edge — attaining all 3 bases, this is called the mind entering the first jhana. This is classified as jhana.

Here is one thing to observe: in cultivating the kammatthana and mundane (lokiya) concentration, the mind's condition does not remain constant forever — it rises and falls. For instance, finding something beautiful and liking it, or seeing something disliked and becoming angry, creating one's own suffering; or the mind becoming restless off the path; or doubt in the Buddha's teachings, or drowsiness overcoming the mind — in such cases concentration recedes. Today one may reach the first jhana, but tomorrow one may only reach

That khanika samadhi alone can be like this — do not feel discouraged, do not feel sad, do not feel anxious. Suppose today we hold only the first jhana — the merit of that first jhana still stands. Tomorrow we get only khanika samadhi — that adds on. This is called accumulating merit and perfections to improve things. What was gained before is not lost, but what is newly gained may be little. Today we get 1 baht, tomorrow 10 satang, together it becomes 1 baht 10 satang.

Now, the mental state that will hold jhana well becomes jhana quickly and holds it well. This is not achieved by fixing a set appointed time — such as "let's gather at 8pm," or insisting it must be at early dawn, dusk, or late morning, only at that particular time. If the mind still feels this way, jhana is still far off. The word "jhana" — jhanam — means "to focus intently" (pheng). This term here might feel too tense if taken literally — "pheng" normally means staring fixedly without blinking, but here regarding jhana it does not mean staring, it means being continuously focused. Whether sitting, walking, or standing, the mind still constantly thinks of the object of chanting, contemplation, or reflection — still thinking even while talking with someone or working; while working, whenever it comes to mind, one recalls "Buddho, Dhammo, Sangho," or notes the breath again. Walking about, whenever free from mental objects that people bring to disturb, free from talking, the mind grasps the object again — recalling the chant or the contemplation or the point of focus, whichever it is. Sometimes, if the state is truly fresh, even while chatting with a friend, in a brief free moment one recalls the image focused on, the object reflected on, the verse chanted — for just a moment one takes it up. The mind stays continuously focused like this as a matter of course — sitting, walking, lying down, working, talking — whenever there is the slightest free moment the mind watches and attends constantly. This shows you are entitled to be called one who maintains jhana. Remember: "maintaining jhana" means that at every free moment, the mental object clings.

Suppose we are attached to anapanasati — it grasps the in-and-out breath; we chant "Buddho, Dhammo, Sangho," or contemplate some kammatthana subject — that object is always clinging in the mind. It does not let go. There may be some forgetting, some lapses — that is natural — but as soon as there is opportunity it seizes it immediately, the mind grasps it immediately. This is called jhana. This is truly jhana — one is both a person who has attained jhana and one who maintains it. This is very beneficial. I ask you to try to practice maintaining this so that

...as a matter of course. Whether walking, sitting and talking, whatever small activities, always keeping it in mind, always mindful of it — this way one can be a person who maintains jhana. Your jhana becomes stable; once jhana is stable, upon death you go to be a Brahma. This concerns jhana being stable — it may be first, second, third, or fourth jhana, whichever; once it is jhana, one dies to become a Brahma.

Now let us consider the anapanasati kammatthana, noting the in-and-out breath. With this anapana, we can measure the first jhana; the second and third will be a little harder, but there are signs to observe:

When the mind enters the first jhana, the breath begins to lighten, the mind feels cool and comfortable, with no annoyance at outside sounds.

When the mind reaches the second jhana, the breath becomes much lighter, the mind starts to detach from the breath, the mind has happiness, the sensation of breath grows lighter and lighter, the mind is full and fresh, less interested in noting the breath, the mind begins to stabilize more — this is the second jhana.

As for the third jhana, it is a little easier to notice: the freshness disappears and the breath feels much reduced. The body feels tensed and rigid, as if bound to prevent any movement at all. The body wants no movement, holds firm and steady, difficult to withdraw from. There is an intimate mental state; the ear hears outside sounds only faintly; the breath feels reduced almost to nothing, yet is still clearly known. This is the third jhana — a little hard to discern, requiring a truly refined mind.

As for the fourth jhana, it is easy to understand: the breath becomes so subtle and light that we do not feel we are breathing at all — but the claim that it "disappears entirely" is not literally true. Books simplify it by saying there is "no breath" — but if the body truly had no breath it would die at that moment; that is the law of truth. In truth the body clearly still breathes, but the mind separates from the body absolutely, refusing sensory contact, so one understands it as "we are not breathing." This fourth jhana has 2 stages, coarse and refined: when we do not know the breath, as if not breathing, but the ear still faintly hears outside sound — this is the coarse fourth jhana. Then, when we do not know the breath, the ear has no contact with outside at all, we know nothing of outside sensation, yet inwardly it is bright like a person normally awake, with good stability — outside sound however loud is not known; mosquitoes or gnats biting are not known.

As for "mosquitoes will not bite, gnats will not bite" — the fourth jhana ensures that mosquitoes find it distasteful, gnats find it distasteful, ants too will not bite. Whether it is because the blood tastes bitter or some other reason, I don't know. They truly do not disturb — it is not that they disturb but we don't feel it; if they are still disturbing, the mind has not yet reached the fourth jhana. I have tried this myself — sitting in an overgrown graveyard full of mosquitoes. Entering newly, they swarm and bite relentlessly, unbearable. Trying again another time, I did not flinch. Between us and the mosquitoes, who would prove tougher? At first they bite, marking their spots. Then, once seated, the mind suddenly caught hold directly as the fourth jhana — instead of rising through jhana 1, 2, 3, we leap straight to the fourth. As soon as we leap into the fourth jhana, it does not accept outside sensory contact; once the mind rejects outside contact we no longer know whether mosquitoes bite or not. At first, when they were biting, we had noted the spots and welts — how many bites, how many painful spots, how much itching — setting aside an hour or two hours. Mostly, testing with mosquitoes takes a long time, not less than 2 hours. This concerns the maintaining of jhana — do not try to imitate it. If you cannot yet maintain jhana, do not rush to copy this; the more you force it, the more trouble and distress it causes. Just do it to a fitting degree; as soon as the mind begins to scatter or becomes too fatigued, if you cannot continue, stop. If sitting becomes unbearable, lie down; lying down, continue as before — there is no need to insist on sitting. Once finished, it turned out that the spots or welts where mosquitoes usually would appear did not occur. This means the mind reached the fourth jhana — mosquitoes not swarming is the sign to observe. Well, for today let us stop here — we have covered up through the fourth jhana. Having heard this, take it and put it into fitting practice.

Let me stress once more that anapanasati wards off the restless, scattered mind. Our mind fails to attain concentration because it is scattered. The way to suppress this scattering is to maintain anapanasati as much as possible. Anapanasati cannot be abandoned; noting the in-and-out breath cannot be abandoned. If maintained constantly, the matter of maintaining jhana is not difficult at all — it is easy. And do not forget: during the day while we work and go about — in the past, when I went on alms round, from leaving until returning I never departed from this mental state. This is not boasting, but describes the method by which it can be maintained quickly. Now, whenever going somewhere on an errand, if there is no companion to talk with, walking alone is very comfortable — from starting to walk until reaching the destination, I never departed from the mental image, that is, holding an image in the chest as a Buddha figure. The Buddha image may change in appearance — we watch the seated Buddha

...hold it in mind. Walking normally, no need to close the eyes — eyes open, note the Buddha image held in the chest, whether clear or not.

The seated Buddha may turn into a reclining Buddha, or a standing Buddha — whatever the image becomes, we simply regard that figure as the Buddha all the same — it works. This is how I have used it, and the mental state holds steady; we can employ the mind whenever we wish. Once one has attained the divine eye (dibba-cakkhu-nana), it can be used any time. Sitting and chatting, saying "that house is nice, this one is nice, that person is good, this one is good," then thinking about what that house looks like, what that person looks like — just thinking about it, the mind tells you. At first it feels a bit forced, but with practice it feels like [seeing] someone nearby. This is called the divine-eye knowledge. This is putting it to use — keeping the mind's time on the wholesome side continuously. "Continuously" does not mean without any break, but that in time free from talking or other duties, one takes up the chanting-object or mental image as usual. This way one tires less easily and has happiness all day. Then, whenever we want to bring up this knowledge, we can, because it is stably maintained.

I want all of you to understand this well: when we cultivate chanting or contemplation in samatha-vipassana, once the mind is at ease, do not forget to conclude by contemplating the five khandhas [aggregates] once the mind has become happy — because our body is merely the four elements: earth, wind, water, fire — impermanent, suffering, ultimately disintegrating, full of filth. However many more lifetimes we are born, it will have this same nature; there is no state worse in suffering to be found. Therefore, since the body is merely the four elements, a temporary dwelling, we must consider that right now we dwell in a latrine, full of filth, repulsive in nature. When we die this time, these five khandhas will no longer exist for us — we do not want them. We do not want to be a deva or a Brahma. If we cannot reach Nibbana, we would only rest as a deva or Brahma temporarily — but we aim straight for Nibbana. When the mind contemplates constantly like this, it is called vipassana-nana. If vipassana is applied while the mind is at ease from samadhi, it has great power, very sharp wisdom, able to cut off defilements suddenly and easily. Do not forget to hold this mental state — this contemplation can go on all day even without formal chanting; I like this very much, because in cultivating concentration we want the mind stable, like gripping a tiger by the throat — the moment we let go, the tiger bites and kills. Vipassana-nana with jhana grips the tiger's throat; vipassana is like a sharp weapon, jhana is the great strength behind it. Seizing the weapon and cutting the tiger's throat through, the tiger dies — that is, cutting off defilements by total eradication (samuccheda-pahana). Just as this is so, our jhana will...

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...does not degrade, because there is nothing pressing it down. This is the goodness we wish to practice for — Nibbana. If you use the correct mental approach, it should feel easy and comfortable in practice. Do not let it become too tense; do not be too lazy, and do not be too slack either, or there will be no path or fruit. Being too tense in both mind and body, making it difficult, likewise yields no path or fruit. The Blessed Sugata taught to walk the middle way, practicing in a relaxed manner — not too tense, not too lazy — this much is enough.

Well then, from here on I ask all of you to hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in-and-out breath, use the chanting words and contemplate according to your own disposition, until you hear the signal announcing that time is up.

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36. Anapanasati (Mindfulness of Breathing)

For today I will continue speaking about anapanasati, but before speaking or hearing anything at all, do not forget to always contemplate as a matter of course that this body/individuality is not us, is not ours; we do not exist within the body, the body does not exist within us. The body is merely water-element, earth-element, wind-element, fire-element — merely a form temporarily relied upon. Once birth has occurred, there follows change, sickness, old age, discomfort, and eventual disintegration. Whenever there is a body/individuality present, at that moment we are said to have suffering. Therefore we no longer want this body. The wish to be human, or to be a deva, is likewise no cause for ending suffering — we do not want it. What we want is Nibbana. And always resolve that we will accept and revere the teachings of the Lord Buddha with reason, and will use wisdom to contemplate according to truth, so as to gain confidence that the Buddha taught truly and correctly — do not simply bow to belief blindly. Once we no longer doubt the teachings of the Lord Buddha, make the mind reach the virtues of the Triple Gem, accepting and revering the Buddha, the Dhamma, the Sangha with sincerity. As for the Sangha, one must choose carefully, because it is held to mean the Ariya-sangha (noble Sangha) upward. But even monks who are ordinary worldlings, we should not look down on them — however, if any monk does not practice according to the Dhamma and Vinaya, we should refrain from according him reverence, because that would be like revering a thief allowing him to plunder the Buddhist religion — cut off support for him. Take the example of the householder Anathapindika, who cut off support for the Elder Sudhamma because of his poor conduct. This the Lord Buddha, the Victorious One, the Supreme Teacher, praised, saying we should help eliminate the wicked thieves who appear within the Buddhist religion. But now, as for according reverence to the goodness of the Sangha — that is, the Ariya-sangha, from Sotapanna upward — with firm conviction, holding them as refuge — then one should try to keep the five precepts pure. As for the eight precepts, let that be according to occasion, but whoever is able to keep them, it is good. Whoever keeps the five precepts as a matter of course, with a mind that firmly accepts and reveres the Buddha, the Dhamma, the Sangha — such a person the Lord Buddha declared to be a Sotapanna. Remember the qualities of a Sotapanna completely, as follows:

We accept and revere the teachings of the Lord Buddha without any doubt. In order not to doubt, one must first use wisdom to contemplate that the Buddha taught birth, old age, sickness, death

...impermanence, suffering, non-self — is this true? If it is true, if I can believe and hold it firmly, then I accept and revere the Buddha's teaching, accept the Buddha, the Dhamma, the Sangha. Since birth, old age, sickness, and death truly exist, we want to be free from them. First we close off the four woeful states beforehand, by refusing to become a hell-being, hungry ghost, asura, or animal — achieved because we keep the five precepts pure; the five precepts are the most important thing. Take care, maintain them well, and Sotapanna-hood will be attained by us. Becoming a higher noble one is a matter for later; the first step is to attain Sotapanna — this much is already good enough. And then, do not stop there — resolve to suppress and destroy the defilements to the point of total eradication for real, and this state of mind should be maintained for the whole of life — with every in- and out-breath reflecting that the body is not us, is not ours; we do not exist in the body, the body does not exist in us; the body is the four elements, a temporary dwelling; before long it disintegrates and collapses; normally it is full of filth and foulness; it is a source that brings suffering — we no longer want it. Being human, or being a deva, are likewise not a realm free of suffering — we do not want them. We want the ending of suffering, that is, Nibbana. Then make the mind firm in the virtues of the Triple Gem, keep the five precepts as a matter of course — a defense against the woeful states beforehand. A Sotapanna is protected only to the extent of not falling into the woeful states, but must still be reborn as a human or a deva, though within a limited range. This is called reaching goodness. The Great Foremost One of the World himself first attained the stream of Nibbana, that is, Sotapanna. Have confidence, grip the shore firmly, hold on, and then press onward to break through to Arahantship. Today I will continue speaking about the anapanasati kammatthana. For the kind of reflection about to be described, it is even better if you are not chanting any kammatthana subject at all — contemplating in this way specifically cuts off defilements.

Yesterday we spoke of the anapanasati kammatthana reaching the fourth jhana — I hope that is understood; if not, go back and check the book. Now, once anapana has reached the fourth jhana, do we then practice another kammatthana — three, four, five subjects, whichever? This is easy — we must drill the fourth jhana until skillful, entering and exiting at will, maintaining it according to disposition, and only then gradually move to another jhana. This is merely the anapanasati kammatthana alone. Whether we reach the fourth jhana or not, if asked whether we can still go to Nibbana — the answer must be: yes. Using anapanasati alone as the base and strength — whether only khanika samadhi, or upacara samadhi, or the first jhana — we practice vipassana-nana alongside it. But in truth

...it must always go together — no matter which kammatthana subject is being practiced, one must hold vipassana-nana together with it, keeping both stable simultaneously.

How can we bring anapanasati kammatthana in as vipassana-nana? In truth, anapanasati kammatthana as such cannot itself be vipassana-nana, unless we adapt it into vipassana-nana — then it produces the same result.

That is: at the first stage of anapanasati kammatthana, we rely on stabilizing the mind first, so it does not become restless with other mental objects, through the power of anapanasati as a controlling instrument.

Once the mind is at ease, we incline toward the body — that is, incline toward the in-and-out breath, reflecting that the in-breath and out-breath are not the same as before. We draw outside air in by breathing to help maintain the body's internal workings; once the lungs expand, the internal organs' function is sustained. When breathing out, air within the abdomen goes out, and we breathe in anew — in truth it is not the old air but new air; the old portion is used up and new comes to replace it — thus our life continues.

Now let us consider: if we breathe out and do not breathe in, what happens? Or breathe in and not breathe out, what happens? The answer must be: death. If breath is cut off even once, death follows. We maintain our condition because of santati — the continuity of life. The in-and-out breath is said to be a kind of nutriment called phassahara, the nutriment of contact. If this nutriment is lacking, whatever other nutriment exists, however much eaten or used, is of no benefit. We sustain life because we rely on the in-and-out breath never stopping — it continues without break. The moment breathing stops, we die; or if we breathe out and not in, or in and not out, life ends entirely.

Is this life that must disintegrate really us, really ours? The life that seems to be us is a state of existing, but the five khandhas, that is, the body, are not us, not ours at all — we merely dwell in them. The five khandhas disintegrate, collapse, the life-breath ends, and this is called becoming a ghost. So let us observe: being born, one becomes a person, then becomes a ghost; being a ghost, one turns again into a person; being a person, one turns into a ghost—

There is nothing enjoyable in it. If becoming a good ghost — such as a deva or a Brahma — that is tolerable enough. But becoming a wicked ghost — a hell-being, a hungry ghost, an asura, an animal — that is no good at all; it brings heavy suffering. Where does suffering come from? Suffering comes from delusion — that is, greed, or lust/attachment; hatred, anger; delusion — confusion residing in the heart.

Right now we have only the anapanasati kammatthana — what is it like? We note the whole body too: our life is no different from the in-and-out breath. The body endures because new nutriment enters to nourish it; old nutriment breaks down and loses quality; the body needs new nutriment — that is hunger, making hunger and craving manifest. The body's hunger shows that the old food nourishing it has lost strength and capacity, needing new food to replace it, and so we seek it out. Likewise, what remains is the breath: old breath is used up and new breath comes in just enough, so the body is sustained. If we do not send in new food, it dies, collapses, from lack of support. This is one point we should reflect on, because our life is not truly permanent or certain at all. Once born, there remains a need for food, of 2 kinds: ordinary hunger, showing that the food nourishing the body has lost capacity and needs new food; and the craving to taste something sour, bitter, spicy, salty, hot, or whatever — if craving is for something special, that too is a need arising from the body's deficiency; the body wants those things to come in and supplement it.

Now, whether we do not supplement it, or we keep supplying it just like this — if we tell it "please don't grow old, whatever you want to eat I will find it for you," whatever it wants we provide — will it then agree not to age? It will not agree; it will not agree to stop aging; it must age according to its own nature.

As for old age, it pays no heed — "please don't get sick, in any case I will help, care for the children and grandchildren, look after the fish and chickens as needed, I can raise the grandchildren" — but will such a condition ever heed us? No matter how much we pamper it, however well we feed it, it produces no benefit at all; if it wants to fall ill, it falls ill regardless. This shows it is beyond our control.

If it wants to fall ill, so be it — it may lie listless at home, barely opening its eyes to see the children and grandchildren, talking with them, gazing at the wealth we have accumulated — "please don't die, just being sick is enough" — will it heed that, going forward? It dies regardless.

Now, if we were to be born again, it would be with a condition just like this — if human, if animal, they would have a similar condition; humans too experience birth, aging, sickness and death just the same. Being a deva or a Brahma, if merit and accumulated perfections run out, one must fall back down — if unlucky, straight to hell, because unwholesome karma still remains. This is why we bring in the anapanasati meditation (mindfulness of breathing), a meditation subject the Great Teacher taught: when breathing in, think 'Phut' or 'Dho' as you wish; breathing out, think however you wish; then return to contemplate again that this in-breath and out-breath is impermanent (anicca), a thing that does not last. If it were truly permanent, one would not need to breathe in again or breathe out again. This inability to hold steady is itself suffering. If by chance the nose cannot breathe out and one must breathe through the mouth, that too is suffering; or if one nostril cannot breathe fully while the other can, that too is suffering. And further, however much we nourish the body, the body still ages beyond this, and that too is suffering. So birth itself is the wellspring of suffering. The breath sustains our body so it can endure the struggle against suffering — we do not want this any longer. It is suffering. We do not want it. We want happiness.

How do we obtain happiness? Instead of simply saying to cut off lust, cut off greed, cut off anger, cut off delusion and confusion — let us not put it that way. Better to always keep in mind that this body is the wellspring of suffering, that it is impermanent, and that it will eventually disintegrate. Why do we want it? Look at the body — what good is there in it? Look truly and honestly, and you will see there is nothing in the body that can hold its own state at all. There is no such thing as 'good' — there is only aging more each day, heading toward ruin. Before it breaks down it is already full of every kind of suffering — from cold, from heat, from hunger, from thirst, from friction with disagreeable sense-objects, and from contacts that do not go as one wishes — all of this we carry as suffering, yet we ourselves need not become suffering. Now that we have looked at suffering, what shall we do? Having been born with a body that is imperfect — however much of a body one has, becoming a deva or Brahma is that much harder to hope for, not to mention Nibbana. If one is still infatuated with the body, then — oh, how difficult — one goes there indeed, to hell. Going up to heaven simply will not happen. So what do we do now?

We come to settle the matter by ourselves: the body is merely the four elements — the water element, the earth element, the wind element, the fire element. If the mind still holds steady, there is no need to go and destroy it — just contemplate it thoroughly, and it will disintegrate on its own...

We will not go on clinging to this body — it is 'me,' it is 'mine' — for what purpose? If it wants to die, let it die; if it wants to age, let it age; if it wants to fall sick — that invitation is nothing else, it simply cannot be forbidden. If this is truly so, then we do not struggle against it — we treat it as an ordinary matter, call it the ordinary nature of things. Once we have grasped the ordinary nature of things, once the mind settles into that ordinariness as its normal state, this is called entering the straight path, the direct way. Becoming a Stream-enterer, a Once-returner, a Non-returner then becomes not difficult. When the mind accepts and respects the law of the ordinary, whatever arises, one regards it as the ordinary way of the world. If villagers curse us to our face, instead of getting angry, we feel pity for them instead, because they really should not act this way — the mind stays at ease, regarding it as ordinary. If someone comes to tempt us into sensual desire, we regard it as ordinary too, but this condition is a condition of suffering — we do not accept it. If someone comes to advise and teach us to cheat and defraud the villagers and townsfolk, we do not accept that either. If someone tells us: think carefully now, having been born in this life, in the next life we will be born again, so let us accumulate merit and perfections for the sake of being reborn human — we tell them: no, I will go to Nibbana. I want only one single point: to go to Nibbana.

Look at suffering itself so as to truly see that it is suffering, and the condition that destroys suffering is cutting off craving, the thirsting desire — cut off wanting entirely: wanting to go out, wanting to eat, wanting sweets, wanting variety, wanting to do whatever one pleases, wanting to be beautiful, wanting to be lovely, wanting to be old, wanting to be young — let it all go, want it no more, become indifferent to it. However much one wants, wanting cannot last long; sooner or later one dies, so one no longer wishes to continue wanting. Resolve in your mind that you will accept and respect the Buddha's teaching that the body is not you, is not yours. We will keep the Five Precepts pure. We will strive to destroy sensual lust until it is gone. We will strive to destroy anger until it is gone. This is already the state of an Anagami (Non-returner).

We will not be intoxicated by form-jhana or formless-jhana. We do not hold the conceit that we are better than others, or worse than others — we are equal to them. We keep the mind at ease; whoever comes at us in whatever way, we can bear it — we do not regard anyone as great or small. We will suppress the mind's scattering with anapanasati meditation, controlling it constantly, keeping the mind fixed exclusively on Nibbana as its one object. We cut off the desire and satisfaction in being reborn human, being a Brahma, being a deva. We cut off the lust that regards the human world as beautiful and splendid through the power of foolish teaching — we do not accept it. From there we go on to cut off lust, that is, the delight in thinking this world is beautiful and splendid, that the Brahma-world and deva-world are beautiful and splendid — we do not want it. We want Nibbana as our object, and then we look at our own mind, contemplating...

[We examine] our own mood: do we love the body? Or do we regard it as the ordinary matter that it will inevitably break down — that the body is full of filth, without substance, without any real essence? Is this the mood we hold, or not — do we hold it all day long? If we can hold it all day, then it can be said that our mind has entered into, has reached, the point of Nibbana.

Now then, all you Buddhist devotees, from here on please hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the in-breath and out-breath, use your meditation word and contemplate as you find suitable, until you hear the signal announcing the end of the time.

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37. The Object of Concentration (Arom Samadhi)

For today let us summarize the object [of meditation] once more, so that all you practitioners will have understanding, or in case you should have forgotten. As for this object of concentration, set your intention on it well: whichever meditation subject it may be, in the aspect of samatha-bhavana (calm-development), we want only one thing — to maintain mindfulness and clear comprehension (sati-sampajañña). The word sati means to keep recollecting; sampajañña means self-awareness. Sati coming to keep recollecting means to keep constantly noting: right now, which meditation subject are we cultivating? Sampajañña is being aware whether we are holding that mood or not, whether we can control the mood in that way or not, and exactly what we are controlling.

So then, the cultivation of samatha-bhavana is practiced as a guard against forgetting. If mindfulness and clear comprehension are present as the normal state, that means we do not forget — because it is precisely a guard against forgetting. Where exactly does it guard against forgetting? The object of samatha-bhavana requires the calm object of mind. The word samatha means the technique that is the instrument for calming the mind, or for making the mind calm. Vipassana is the instrument that causes wisdom to arise, or the technique that illuminates wisdom — that is, to bring about wisdom. As for the word 'wisdom' here, everyone has it in their own way, but it must be pinpointed specifically to the wisdom that contemplates and knows, in accordance with reality, the five aggregates (khandha ha).

Here we are not yet speaking of vipassana — we speak of samatha, making the mind calm. Exactly where does samatha serve as the technique for calming the mind? Grasp the meaning well so a clear understanding arises. This is where the calm lies: calm in the sense of not letting the mind's mood go meddling in other people's conduct. As a first point: when we ourselves wish to be good, whoever else is good or bad, that is their affair — we are not concerned. If they are good, that is their own good; if they are bad, that is their own bad. Saying this does not mean that we reject that the Buddha is good, that the Noble Sangha is good — not that at all. Here we speak of good and bad according to worldly conduct: whoever eats a lot, whoever eats little, walks with long strides or short strides, is loud or is quiet — that is their affair, we do not get involved. Instead we come to control our own mental strength specifically, refusing to let any mood of evil arise in the mind at all, or any mood that is deviant or off the path arise in the mind at all.

What are the moods of evil? They are the moods that delight in destroying morality (sila) themselves, or in inciting villagers to destroy morality, or in feeling glad upon seeing another person destroy morality, thinking that he does not keep the precepts, doing...

...destroying the precepts, that too is welcome. Do not let such evil moods arise at all — this concerns every precept-item, whether monk, novice, layman, or laywoman: know the true state of what precepts we hold. This matters greatly for monks — the 227 precepts. Whether good or not, one might not even know what all 227 items are, but for us it's still not bad — we lean on one another every day; whether it's remembered or not, I don't know. In truth a monk should be considered obliged to know his own precepts from the very day he is ordained — not to be ordained for even ten days and still not know them. This will not do. That is to say, we must control ourselves so that we do not destroy the precepts ourselves. We should also know how many precepts anyone else holds. We will not think of inciting others to think of destroying precepts. We will not feel glad when another person has destroyed the precepts. This is where calm lies — calm in the sense of not letting the mind become evil.

Next point: once we control the precepts, we control everything together at once — not just some particular thing. We also take care that the mind is calm and free from the Five Hindrances, namely:

1. Sensual desire (kamachanda) — we will not accept or entertain matters of beautiful forms, delicious tastes, pleasant sounds, fragrant smells, touch, sexual contact, or any mood steeped in sensuality — that is, thinking of building castles in the air: having a fine spouse in this way, in that way, having beautiful possessions, a beautiful house, a beautiful and expensive car, a beautiful refrigerator, a beautiful air-conditioner, beautiful and splendid things, pleasant sounds, fragrant smells that entice and charm the mind — not clinging, not interested in any of it at all. See that all these things have no lasting state — their beauty is not real; soon they grow old, and once old they fall apart. A pleasant sound passes through the ear and then vanishes; a fragrant smell passes the nose and then vanishes; a delicious taste passes the tip of the tongue, the middle of the tongue, the root of the tongue, and then vanishes; touch, too, passes and is gone. There is nothing for the mind to cling and attach to, so it does not stick. The mood steeped in fantasy, building castles in the air, no longer exists in the mind. This is item one.

2. Maintain loving-kindness (metta) as the normal state — suppress anger and vindictiveness, do not let them arise in the mind, seeing the fault of anger and vindictiveness as bad. Try to cut off entirely the mood of anger, the mood of vindictiveness.

3. While practicing goodness, suppress drowsiness — do not let drowsiness come to overpower the mind. This point requires caution; one must observe for oneself. The term 'suppressing drowsiness' here refers to the drowsiness that arises from the hindrance (nivarana), mind you. We must check whether our body is tired or not, whether we have gone without sleep too much, whether we have overworked — this too must be checked. 'Suppressing drowsiness arising from the hindrance' means this: at an ordinary time when we feel comfortable, the mind clear and bright, with no sign yet of drowsiness, we have not gone without sleep, we are not overly exhausted, but then...

As soon as we grasp the mind into concentration, we begin to feel drowsy — this itself is the hindrance. However, if we are too exhausted, or have gone without sleep too much, or have overworked too much, and tiredness arises with a drowsy-like feeling, that is tiredness from labor, tiredness from sleepiness — this kind we must not endure; we must hurry to sleep, hurry to rest. Hold mindfulness on the mood of the in-and-out breath, recite the meditation word and contemplate a little, then simply let it fall asleep — this is not the hindrance. If the body has grown weak and tired, do not fight against it, or it will turn into a nerve disorder. But if our body is quite well, bright and clear, and as soon as we begin to hold the mind in concentration drowsiness sets in, then it is the hindrance — this we must know. If we do not know this, nerve disease will consume us.

4. Restlessness and worry (uddhacca-kukkucca) — this point is very important. While we are maintaining [concentration], while we hope to hold the mind in samadhi, gripping some one object of samatha-bhavana, we will not allow our mood to scatter — but do not forget this: we certainly cannot conquer it completely; we cannot win forever, for all time — we can win only temporarily, because uddhacca is precisely the scattering itself. The one who can truly cut this off entirely is the Arahant. As for us, exactly where do we prevent this scattering? We prevent it by not allowing unwholesome moods to reach the mind. The mind's strength in the samatha aspect must be divided into two periods together: one period when we have not yet attained jhana, and another period when we have already attained jhana. During the period when our mood has not yet become jhana, forcing the mind to remain on a single object for a long time is simply not possible — it will run backward and forward, forward and backward. What is to be done about this? During the stage when the mind is momentary concentration (khanika-samadhi), access concentration (upacara-samadhi), or absorption concentration (appana-samadhi) at the level of first jhana, second jhana, third jhana — it likewise leaps forward and back. Except that once one has entered jhana, one can fix the mind to hold jhana — though this is still mundane jhana (jhana lokiya); even the fourth jhana is the same — the mind maintains its goodness only during the time the mind is actually within jhana. Once withdrawn from jhana, the mind reverts to its ordinary state, running back and forth like a tethered horse; once released, it simply wanders off as it pleases.

Now, this restlessness itself we cannot control all the time. If it is a task for the beginning stage, we hold the mind in check this way: even though it may waver from its original point, we do so specifically by setting the intention to recite 'Buddho,' setting the intention to note the in-and-out breath, or setting the intention to contemplate some one meditation subject. We fix the mind, telling it: for this short period — five minutes, ten minutes — this is our allotted strength; we will not allow the mind to stray off toward...

Any other point, any other mood apart from what we have set our intention to recite, or before the appointed time is reached — if it strays off, start it over again to let it get 'chastened,' but do not let this go on too long, until the mind's mood becomes accustomed to it, then gradually extend it a little at a time. Now, since the ordinary mind must inevitably stray — when the mind has already passed beyond its object, when the mind is fixed specifically within the meditation subject as we have set it — mundane jhana is exactly the same way. That it should think of nothing at all, that the mind should never waver at all, that the mind should never scatter at all — this is not possible. What is possible is only this: try to control it so that, apart from the specific short time we control it, during the remaining time, if it wants to scatter, let it scatter — but let the mind incline toward wholesomeness at all times. Let it think along the lines that giving alms is good; that being a deva is good in this way, good in that way, and so on. Giving alms well forges friendship while destroying enmity at the same time. We give alms — 'danam saggasopanam,' giving is a stairway to heaven. Giving alms is very good — after death one becomes a deva with abundant heavenly wealth; if reborn as a human, one is born wealthy, not poor or destitute. If [the mind] must scatter, let it stay within this boundary — let it stay on the side of wholesomeness.

Now I want to ask: can we really force it like this into wholesomeness? Yes, it can certainly come. Once it has come, and we become aware, we then drive it onward. It must come — it cannot fail to come, because our mind has not yet conquered it. At the time we still have a scattering mood, that means even one who has attained jhana still has intruding moods. This refers to one who has attained jhana and set aside a specific time for it; but while within jhana it is truly good — once outside jhana, it takes hold again just the same, back to its original state. Whether skillfully or not, one thinks of form, feeling, perception, mental formations, consciousness, or the foulness meditation, the kasina, and the ten recollections, whatever it may be — back and forth it goes, then suddenly darts off again toward some other path, because it has not yet escaped the range of sensual desire, has not yet escaped the range of vindictiveness, of delusion. But one must keep restraining it with mindfulness. If it suddenly darts into the unwholesome side, then tell it: this will not do — you, sir, have done good for so long, are you now going to go down to hell? Will that really do? This is how the mood behaves — so keep at it, keep calming the mood that is evil, do not let the evil mood come to possess the mind.

Now, as for the method of practicing meditation — taking the aspect that sums it up simply, starting from concentration: if we want it to be good, where exactly is the good in it? Vipassana-nana is likewise the same. To make it good means that during the specific time we have set aside — this much time, that much time — we will cultivate concentration. As for the time remaining after that, whether sitting, eating, walking, doing any work, whatever it may be — if the timing feels right, then call to mind the object of concentration we have set our intention on. In...

The forty meditation subjects are not restricted to any particular person having to do it this way or that way. One may contemplate them, or one may fix-gaze on them; whoever finds it suitable may follow their own inclination among the forty meditation subjects, any one at all — there is no need to choose. Whenever the mind wants to think, let it think within the bounds of the meditation subject being contemplated. Whenever the mind wishes to hold the secluded mood it desires — guard against only one thing: do not let unwholesomeness come to meddle with the mind, that is all. This is the discipline of practice that must also be controlled, called the mind being calm, being in concentration. Concentration (samadhi) is the firm setting of intention — meaning setting the intention specifically on the object among the forty meditation-subject objects, any single one may be used; not only, at this particular moment, noting the in-and-out breath while reciting 'Buddho' as the teacher instructed, but at other times the mind may wish to draw upon 'Dhammo,' 'Sangho,' recalling the goodness of the precepts, recalling the goodness of jhana, recalling the goodness of the devas, recalling mindfulness of death — recalling death is good, mind you, so that we will not be heedless — recalling the goodness of Nibbana or things of this sort; recalling that the body is impermanent, is suffering, is not-self; that the body is full of filth; that our body, once dead, swells up and becomes a disgusting thing; that the body is composed of the four elements and the food we have eaten, which turns out to be filthy matter. If it thinks along these lines, it is all good — among the forty meditation subjects, all are equally good.

Speaking of the forty meditation subjects — among the forty, one should study what they actually consist of. If on any given day the mind happens to land on any one item, simply let it go along with that — it is all usable, better than letting it get entangled with unwholesomeness. The word 'wholesome' here means staying within the bounds of the forty meditation subjects, or within any one aspect of the Mahasatipatthana Sutta. The Satipatthana Sutta according to the genuine form that has been handed down, mind you — not according to some abbreviated version that someone has newly set up — that we do not accept; we take the Buddha's own original form directly. If, within any one aspect of the Mahasatipatthana Sutta, the mind becomes stuck on something, being able to reflect along those lines at once — in this way our mind is calm, or the mind is firmly established in concentration; it remains exclusively within the object that is the goodness the Buddha proclaimed. This is good, this should be done; this is what is called the object of concentration that we want.

If one asks about the result — the result of samatha-bhavana — do not be careless about this, mind you! If the mind's mood truly becomes jhana, it presses the mind's mood down firmly and tightly — whether wisely or not, thinking oneself an Arahant and acting recklessly. If one were to take anything at all — would one go on clinging to beautiful forms? Whether one sees it as beautiful or not, remain indifferent. Hearing pleasant sounds, delicious tastes, fragrant smells — would one go clinging to form, taste, smell, sound, or not? It is not worth it, not a big matter — we do not want it, we have already let it go; however it may be, we do not need it, it is a small matter. Now, when the mind holds jhana, it presses down as one, comfortably, the mind clinging closely, so to speak...

...one no longer wants to speak with anyone, to move about, to go anywhere at all, as if the task at hand were strict and exacting. This absolute, unwavering steadiness means the mind no longer wants to wobble off anywhere, does not wander about for fear that the concentration might shift. The mind holding a secluded mood sometimes slips into thinking: 'Now I have already become an Arahant!' This is exactly where the mistake lies. Know this well; be very careful, do not be heedless and think 'we are already good enough.' The moment we think we are already good enough, that becomes the path toward death — that is, the dissolution of concentration or of goodness.

Today we have given this guidance as an overall summary point, so that you may know exactly where the cultivation of concentration is aimed, exactly where mutual understanding lies. To sum up once more: the cultivation of concentration in the aspect of samatha-bhavana — we want calm away from moods that are unwholesome, that is, moods that conflict with the precepts, or moods that indulge the Five Hindrances. We do not want these; we must oppose the Five Hindrances. As for the precepts, these can be reconciled — one must go along with the precepts, while opposing the Five Hindrances. If one wishes to go higher still, one must go along with the Four Brahmavihara (divine abodes) — this is very good. If one goes along with the Four Brahmavihara alone, the hindrances collapse entirely. If one then takes up vipassana-nana, it veers off and runs swiftly — it truly moves fast indeed.

The time for speaking has long since run out; let us conclude with just this much. From here on, please hold the body upright, keep the mind firmly established, note the in-breath and out-breath, use your meditation word and contemplate as you find suitable, until you hear the signal announcing the end of the time.

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38. Asubha Kammatthana (Meditation on Foulness)

This meditation on foulness was recommended by the Lord Buddha as suitable for those of a lustful temperament, because it destroys the feeling that the bodies of people and animals are full of beauty and loveliness. As for this meditation on foulness, if all of you contemplate it as a single-pointed object, or make it a constant mood, it becomes a condition for reaching the state of Anagami (Non-returner) easily. It cannot be said to stop only at Anagami, because once one is an Anagami, shortly after the mind proceeds on to the fruit of Arahantship. So remember this well: this meditation on foulness is not a fixed-gazing meditation subject, it is a contemplative meditation subject — though one may fix-gaze on it as well, but that is held to be not important.

Before contemplating the foulness meditation, first try to grasp the in-and-out breath, reciting 'Buddho' beforehand to make the mind comfortable. Once the mind is comfortable, once the mind holds a good mood, then contemplate the foulness meditation. Asubha means 'not beautiful, not lovely' — remember this well. This is what the Lord Buddha had us contemplate: a dead person. Once dead — one day, two days, three days — this is a dead person swollen up, with lymph fluid flowing continuously, the body deteriorating, leaving only skin covering the bones; then one senses the face has disappeared, leaving only bones — bones in segments, though still holding a bodily form; then later the bones break apart into pieces, into segments, into fragments, and finally crumble into small bits scattered about, and at last sink into the ground. Let me state only briefly: in truth there are ten kinds of foulness. Taken all together, one contemplates the matter of the dead person. Ordinarily, while people are still alive, they love one another, remain bound to one another, support one another, feel no revulsion — loving each other as if wanting to devour one another — but the moment the other person's life-breath has ended, that is it: sometimes right at the moment a person has just died, we no longer want to go near and touch them, feeling revulsion that the body has gone cold, that it has taken on the condition of a corpse; if unlucky, we even grow afraid, thinking it has become a ghost.

Now let us sit and reflect on the truth that the Lord of the Three Worlds (the Buddha) brought to teach us. In truth the Buddha did not bring us anything invented to teach — he took what truly exists, but we refuse to acknowledge it as it truly is. This means that the thing genuinely exists, but we have never thought of it in that way. As for the people and animals who live with us — as long as they have not yet expired, we never think they are filthy. But in truth, if we have already contemplated the kayagatasati kammatthana (mindfulness of the body), that alone would be sufficient. Now, if that should still not be enough, the kayagatasati kammatthana and the asubha kammatthana — the two combined — [suffice]; but foulness itself divides into ten categories. The body...

...mindfulness of the body — one item becomes eleven. It is what cuts off lustful temperament, the view of beauty and loveliness. Without this, we cannot travel the path toward Nibbana, cannot bring the mind to the state of Anagami, cannot destroy sensual lust entirely — all because our mood still clings to a false sense of reality. The kayagatasati kammatthana has us contemplate that the body is filthy: the body is made of pieces, of segments — hair, body hair, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, bones, liver, kidneys, intestines, lungs, fat — each part separated out, and each one full of filth. But while alive it is still only slightly filthy — the part that is still strong, that still has cleanliness and freshness, still remains.

Now let us sit and reflect on a dead person. One day after death, what is the condition? The life-breath has ended, the body stiffens, the fire element vanishes, the wind element vanishes, leaving only the water element and the earth element. We do not want to touch it, do not want to look at it, even though we know full well the life has ended.

What is it like on the second day after death? The belly begins to turn greenish already.

On the third day after death, it progresses a bit further — the complexion begins to grow mottled and shiny, it begins to swell somewhat, and now an odor begins — the odor that appears is one we do not want.

On the fourth day, the fifth day — by now it has swollen with lymph fluid flowing; further on it becomes bloated with gas, the flesh and skin split open, it has swollen to its fullest. Now look — the filthy matter within the body pours out, unbearable to watch; walking downwind one cannot stand it; walking close to it one does not even want to go near — it is disgusting and frightening. Now let us sit and contemplate at this point: where does all this filthy matter exist, where does it come from? Did it appear only afterward, or was it there all along while that person was alive? If we truly contemplate, it did not come from anywhere else. In truth, while that person still had the life-breath, walking here and there, able to speak — all these things existed within the body completely and in full; it relied on the mind that was maintaining it, and on the control of the various nervous systems, which had the strength to conceal the filth — that is why we did not perceive that condition. Or put another way: the four elements have equal strength; some may be somewhat weaker, but they still have the strength to keep it concealed. As soon as death occurs, the wind element vanishes, no one tends to it any longer, the internal mechanism ceases to function.

Next, the warmth — that is, the fire element — vanishes, leaving only water and earth. When only water and earth remain, water has an absorbing nature and dissolves the earth; the earth cannot withstand it and crumbles and disintegrates. At this point the filth that lay within becomes apparent — nothing good can be found in it. When we contemplate and call to mind all these corpses, we then think of ourselves, that we too have that same condition. If we think of other people, other individuals, other animals, they too have this same condition. Whenever we see a person's face, whenever we see...

...an animal's face, whenever we do, we call to mind the image that this being too is a corpse, in a swollen condition, with lymph fluid flowing, the body full of filth, disgusting and foul. Then we call our own selves to mind — the body we inhabit is exactly the same, has that very same condition; there is nothing lovable about it at all.

When contemplating the foulness meditation, if the mind truly penetrates it, contemplating bit by bit, further on, when the mind reaches single-pointedness (ekaggata), holding one unified mood, whatever it perceives becomes entirely a corpse. We then develop revulsion toward our own body, toward the bodies of other people and other animals. Once revulsion has arisen, sensual lust — that is, the delight in complexion, skin tone, or touch — no longer exists at all, because whenever we look, every single time it appears as a corpse; seeing decay, seeing bloating, seeing filth — it takes hold right at the heart.

And what will be the result of contemplating in this way? If our mental strength is already firm, we sit and think in our mind: 'Oh! The bodies of people — mine as well, others' as well, animals' as well — all have this same filthiness.' But in true essence, we have been deluded into thinking this body is 'us,' is 'ours' — that we exist within the body, the body exists within us. But in truth the body is not us, is not ours; we do not exist within the body, the body does not exist within us, because the body is merely the elements that have come together to hold a temporary condition. We are the mind, or the manomayakaya (the subtle, invisible body) that comes to dwell within this form. We have gone astray, deluded into thinking it is us, is ours. Beyond that, we have also gone astray, deluded into thinking it has a lovable, admirable condition — if unlucky, we go on to become enamored of other people's bodies as well. In true essence, the reason we hold this kind of thought is because it relies on ignorance as its condition — we do not look for the truth.

In truth, the body is entirely full of filth; it is entirely full of suffering. Filthiness alone is not enough — it is suffering as well. Why? It suffers because it is impermanent; it changes constantly according to its nature; in the end it undergoes disintegration. Now, if it were truly us, truly ours, we would be able to control it — we would tell it: do not be filthy, be clean, try to bathe, scrub and cleanse the skin every day — but that is merely on the outside only, just the epidermis. In truth we can make clean only about one part in a million, just that tiny epidermis, and even that is not truly clean — every day it is full of filth and must be washed continuously all day long. But we have not used wisdom to look down and see that what seeps out from within the body is filthy matter. This part inside is truly a mess, unbearable to look at. Whenever it looks at anything...

...it is impossible. We are deluded all over again, thinking it is us, it is ours. Now, if it really were us, really ours, we could command it: 'don't age' — it would not obey, it would age regardless. 'Don't get sick' — it would not obey, it would get sick regardless. Tell certain parts 'don't deteriorate yet' — would hair not go grey? It does not obey. Tell the eyes 'don't go dim yet' — it does not obey. Tell the teeth 'don't break yet' — it does not obey. So too the body's strength: 'don't decay yet, we still have work to do' — it does not obey. This shows that, aside from being filthy and foul, it is not us, not ours; it falls apart according to its own nature. So why do we sit here clinging to it as us, as ours, deluding ourselves into dreaming it is something clean, lovable, admirable, prized, to be cherished and protected — for what benefit?

Try to bring to mind the state of a corpse freshly dead, until it swells and bloats, then decays down to skin over bone, down to bone — the bones still holding their shape for a while — and later the bones come loose piece by piece, into sections, into separate parts. Where is there anything beautiful in that? From the moment of fresh death we already feel disgust. Sit and contemplate this way every day. As you contemplate, when the mind begins to stray toward other objects, drop that object and take hold of the in-and-out breath so the mind becomes steady. While holding the breath, recite whatever formula you like — 'Buddho, Dhammo, Sangho' will do, whatever suits.

Let us now consider: if our mind sees that the bodies of people and animals are full of filth, like walking corpses — whichever image we grasp, if the skeleton is clearest and most preferred, we keep the image of bones in mind at all times, and look at our own body seeing it as a skeleton at all times; we see others' bodies as skeletons, walking skeletons. Then look only at the skeleton — where is it beautiful? Eye-sockets hollow, ribs jutting, no flesh, no skin, only rows of ribs sticking out every which way, the whole body full of ugliness. That is the bone-image. Some are satisfied focusing on this point; some are satisfied with the state of the freshly dead, preferring to contemplate that clearly; some prefer the body turning greenish, swelling and bloating, breaking into pieces, sections, parts, or being pecked and eaten by crows and vultures. This follows individual temperament — whichever point you prefer, contemplate that point. If you want detail, go back to the ten forms of foulness (asubha); whichever point you prefer, contemplate it until clear. Once clear, consider that it is not us, not ours; it has the nature of suffering, impermanence, not-self. Before long we attain the fruit of Non-Returner, once lust has been destroyed. If not attained in this life, what then?

If not attained in this life, one is reborn next life as a deva or a brahma, depending on the strength of one's concentration. If concentration is weak, one certainly becomes a deva; coming back to human birth again, if one meets an Arahant or the Buddha, hears a sermon on the meditation on foulness, or the graduated discourse as in the case of Venerable Yasa — hearing it the first time, one becomes a Stream-Enterer; hearing it again a short while later, one attains Arahantship.

This is the result of cultivating the meditation on foulness — try to bring the mind to it: that is, having a state of mind that draws the actual condition into view as it normally is, and expressing disgust toward it. It is not that once seen as foul one thinks 'never mind.' Everyone is equally filthy — whatever clashes, never mind — this attitude will not do. One must contemplate until the state is seen as disgusting, foul; whenever it comes to mind, feel revulsion each time. This is the state of people and animals: seeing faces of people and animals dressed up beautifully, whatever bodily shape they have — see through the skin as if piercing it, through the skin to the flesh, through the flesh to inside, seeing the body entirely filled with filth. This is mindfulness of the body. Look again — lo, this very person is a bloated corpse; see it as a walking skeleton. Feel great disgust now. Only thus can it be called reaching the essence of the meditation on foulness. While cultivating this way, sit and contemplate with wisdom: 'Ah, this body is this filthy' — but in truth it is not us, not ours. Why sit deluded over it, for what benefit, in both our body and others' bodies, as something to be possessed? We are utterly foolish. But the Blessed Lord of Auspicious Glory was not foolish, was wise — the Great Lord of the World thus entered Nibbana, attaining happiness.

As for us, still content in this suffering, it is deeply lamentable. Think it over again and again, until the mind is saturated, then set a fresh object in mindfulness of breathing. If you truly do this, it will not take long, however much time. Don't think of it only at night, and don't sit and think of it only during formal practice. Whichever meditation subject you take up, let it be continuous — not just sitting reciting 'asubha, atthikang, patikulang' and the like — that we do not want.

The meditation on foulness is not a subject for merely sitting and reciting; it is a tool for using wisdom to search out truth. First, call on perception and memory: remember the state of the dead at each stage. Then use wisdom to probe the filthy thing, asking where it came from, whether it existed like that before, or only after death.

...it comes to be like this. Go back and forth, digging for truth until it is made plain in just this way. To be called a disciple of the Blessed Well-Farer — knowing this, even if not attained in this life, the mind still abides in happiness, arising greatly in the heart, because infatuation and dreaming over one's own body or others' bodies is gone. If love and attachment to beauty are gone, it is a happiness beyond words, because one is free of all care. When we love our own body as beautiful, love another's as beautiful, become attached to beautiful things whether people or objects, the mind becomes entangled beyond words. If something even slightly dirty touches it, we feel our head spin — and that is only over an object. If it is someone we love, and we wish to be with someone else, we become displeased at once. Worse, if that person falls ill, we are utterly whirled about, exhausted, suffering in body and mind, losing wealth. If the one we love happens to die, we might as well die along with them — unable to do anything right. Why is this? Because of foolishness. If a thing is dirty and we know it is dirty; if a person must age and we know they age; if a person must die and we know they die — once dead, why keep grieving? When someone is sick, nursing them is an act of kindness, easing their suffering — it is simply natural, and we help one another. Always keep in mind that this person too is just that same corpse, and we ourselves are also a corpse. Each of us equally filthy — what is there to be so bound to one another? If the mind can let go like this, it becomes at ease; happiness arises; there is no heaviness of heart. Let whoever dies, die; separation is simply natural. Once let go, there is happiness, with nothing pulling at the heart.

Now then, all you Buddhist disciples — talk of the meditation on foulness, however much discussed, always circles back to this same filthy self. But even as it circles, let it circle; let your own mind see it as its normal state. All day, all night, whomever you look at, whomever comes to mind, see them as swollen, rotting, filthy; or let the mind, dwelling on the body and bones, see it as a skeleton — lying down, a skeleton lying stretched out; sitting, a skeleton sitting. Is the skeleton beautiful? In free moments, go look at it; walking, a walking skeleton. If the mind becomes fixed on the skeleton, if satisfied contemplating the swelling, the pus oozing, eyes bulging, tongue lolling, eyelids everted, skin split with fluid pouring out — see how disgusting, beyond words. Once the mind is fixed like this, any person's face gives that same feeling; any animal's face gives that same feeling; thinking of anyone gives that same feeling. If the mind truly becomes fixed like this, then, all...

You lay Buddhist disciples, both men and women, combine this with insight-knowledge as already explained — that it is not our body, only a dwelling we inhabit for a while; before long it collapses, it disintegrates. This state of a Non-Returner will appear to you within a time not far off.

As for the talking, it keeps going back and forth. From here on, may all of you set the body upright, steady the mind, keep aware of the in-and-out breath, use the recitation and contemplate according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing the time is up.

* * *

39. Kasina as Meditation

Today I wish to introduce the ten kasinas. This kasina has ten kinds. The word 'kasina' means 'sign' (nimitta); in some places kasina is rendered as 'disc' — a sign for the mind to grasp. This kasina is a coarse meditation subject, its nature easy to grasp — that is, it involves sustaining all four jhanas — and all the kasinas together form the basis for the attainments of the higher psychic powers.

As for these ten kasinas, they divide into two groups. One group are neutral meditation subjects, which any temperament can practice without needing to choose — that is one point. The other group are subjects specific to particular temperaments. Of the neutral kasinas there are six: the earth kasina (gazing at earth), the fire kasina (gazing at fire), the water kasina (gazing at water), the wind kasina (gazing at wind), the space kasina (gazing at space), and the light kasina (gazing at brightness). These six are neutral kasinas for temperament — every Buddhist disciple of any temperament can practice them without choosing, because they are neutral; whatever one's temperament, all can use them. This matter of matching meditation subject to temperament is very important — remember it well. If you mismatch it and work against the grain, it does not proceed smoothly; it still moves, but slowly, awkwardly.

As for the remaining four kasinas — the blood-red kasina (red), the blue-green kasina (green), the yellow kasina (yellow), the white kasina (white) — these four counter the temperament of hatred (dosa-carita), for those prone to anger, quick to anger. Cultivating any one of these four, once the kasina arises as jhana, the emotion of anger dissolves and disperses. This is cultivating a subject matched to temperament. Whichever temperament predominates, deal with that one first; once destroyed, the resulting benefit is peace of mind.

An example: the goldsmith's son. In the time when the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord was still alive, the chief disciple of the Great Teacher, Venerable Sariputta, had a young man of good family ordain under him — the goldsmith's son, young and wealthy. He thought that a young, wealthy man tends to be much inclined toward lustfulness — in plain language; in Dhamma terms, of lustful temperament — since, being a bachelor, he thought this of him. Having thought so, he gave him the meditation subject of foulness and mindfulness of the body which we have already covered.

...and had her cultivate it to destroy her lustful temperament — that is, love of beauty and adornment. So it was that for one entire rains-retreat, the goldsmith's son — one could not say he did not practice — sat with eyes closed, contemplating, yet nothing came of it in his mind. When the time came to end the retreat, Sariputta thought this young man was not within his own capacity to train, but must be within the Buddha's capacity.

At this point you may not understand just how this works. The truth is: some individuals build their perfections specifically to be trained directly by the Buddha — anyone else training them gets no result. Some build their perfections so that anyone can train them with effect — this the disciples can train successfully. It is the same today: not everyone who joins our group will get the same result as we do; at the very least, even faith does not arise equally in everyone. It is a matter of original inclination and accumulated perfections — if not accumulated with intention to be trained by us, expecting them to attain path and fruit is out of the question, let alone mundane jhana — even inspiring faith in them is not possible. This is called not being a suitable match.

Having reflected thus, Sariputta took the goldsmith's son to the Buddha and reported that the young man had been with him three months — one rains-retreat — taught the contemplation of foulness together with mindfulness of the body, on the grounds that being young he should curb his fondness for beauty, yet he gained nothing at all. The Buddha, having considered, understood clearly — the Buddha need not sit and spend time meditating; upon seeing him he knew at once how this person should be trained. He said to Sariputta: 'Sariputta, take back this young man. There is no faithful young man of good family whom rough handling cannot teach to attain path and fruit.' When Sariputta had left, the Lord of Victory knew that the goldsmith's son was not, in fact, of lustful temperament, but heavily inclined toward the temperament of hatred — that is, quick to anger. So the Lord of Wisdom gave him the blood kasina instead of the meditation on foulness, conjuring a golden lotus, one blossom, colored red — this red kasina is called 'lohita-kasina' — and instructed the goldsmith's son to go sit at the sand mound in front of the shrine hall, plant the red lotus there, plant the stem into the sand mound, and memorize the image well. When closing the eyes and recalling the image, recite 'red, red' — this recitation is not for any special purpose, only to anchor the mind, in case it becomes restless. The recitation is a device to draw the mind to the point of focus. If by chance the mind becomes agitated and the image fades, open the eyes and look again; once memorized, recite 'red, red, red' — until the goldsmith's son practiced in that way, that is, planting the stem into the...

...sand, forming a mound of sand. Opening his eyes to memorize the image of the lotus, then closing his eyes, recalling the image as 'red, red.' As soon as the image faded from mind, he would open his eyes and look again. Doing this two or three times, it appeared he attained the fourth jhana, with the lotus remaining red. But then, closing his eyes and continuing to recall the image, the lotus changed from red to yellow, from yellow to white, and from white into a sparkling, dazzling brilliance; he could make it large or small at will, higher or lower, in front or behind, until thoroughly skilled at it.

The Blessed Lord, dwelling at the great monastery, the Conqueror of Mara, then reflected: 'Now the goldsmith's son has attained the fourth jhana. Next comes the stage of insight-knowledge. If we do not help him, will he be able to attain the path and fruit?' The Lord of Wisdom, knowing by the power of Buddha-knowledge that without help he certainly would not attain the path and fruit, resolved: 'We must help him.' The Lord's method of help was this: while the young man was absorbed in bliss, delighted, his mind in equanimity, at ease, not needing to open his eyes at all, seeing the dazzling, beautiful lotus image, able to make it large or small, high or low, left, right, front, or back, wherever he wished, giving rise to delight —

the Lord of Wisdom then conjured the original lotus to take on a dull, withered appearance. The goldsmith's son continued in jhana, delighted, feeling refreshed, then opened his eyes to look at the red lotus again. This time the freshness of the lotus was gone; the color dull, petals wilted, stamens dried. 'Eh — what on earth is this?' he thought: 'How can this be? It was fine just now.' Well, let it wither, let it dry, never mind. He then reflected: 'The life and body of a person and this lotus share a similar nature. Once arisen, it changes, wears down, decays in this way — nothing in it can be found permanent.' Contemplating thus, he felt refreshed. The image remained sparkling as before, but the actual lotus had become dull — and his mind correspondingly grew calmer, diminished under the power of defilements.

Then the Great Lord of the World saw that the young man's mind had shrunk a little and was starting to lose energy, seeing the body as impermanent, suffering in this way, with nothing in it able to hold steady...

The Lord of Wisdom then conjured the lotus's petals to fall, its stamens to fall, its withering to appear, the stem to bend down until it could bear no more — this is called the flower losing its entire condition as a lotus. He contemplated as usual, felt at ease, opened his eyes to look at the lotus again. 'Well now — a moment ago it was merely wilted; now the petals have all fallen, and the stamens have scattered too. It is bent and shriveled, about to die; it has completely dried up.' He then closed his eyes again and sat pondering his own life: 'Oh! This body of ours is no different from a plant or a grain crop. This lotus, too, was originally fine, full of substance, very strong, a golden lotus — and yet, before long, it withered and dried up. Now all its petals have fallen, its stamens scattered, dryness is extensive; the withered stem cannot withstand even the slightest pressure — even what was intact within has now broken.'

He then reflected that his own life and body were just like the lotus — nothing in them is truly permanent or lasting; nothing endures, because everything has arising at the beginning, change in the middle, and disintegration in the end. Even while holding together, it is full of suffering. The withered lotus does not know it suffers, because it has no mind; but we are beings with minds — the mind clings to the body, holding it to be 'us,' 'ours,' and so it suffers, because the body is naturally subject to decay — this is only natural, a matter yet to come. This is the plain truth. The lotus and we share that same condition: once decayed, in the end it disintegrates completely — just so, our own life and body have that same condition, that is, once born, before long it disintegrates and collapses.

Now then, all you Buddhist disciples, he thereupon lost all attachment to life, all attachment to the body, reflecting: 'Here we have been deluded, holding the body to be us, to be ours, imagining it will remain fixed, but in true reality, when newly born it was a child; now it has grown into an adult — it develops, just like the lotus that, newly arisen, was small, a tiny bud; later it expanded, growing until fully bloomed. Once fully bloomed, in the end the lotus shrinks back to a withered state, then disintegrates. Our life is the same; our body too will have a condition like this lotus; in the end it will fall and collapse upon the earth — this is called death. What benefit is there in it? So this body of ours has a condition of no use, not worth cherishing — its condition is ever-shifting, never fixed, however much one nurtures and pampers it.

...it does not cease decaying on its way to disintegration.' Having reflected thus, he thought: 'If the body has arisen, it has no benefit, nothing in it is us or ours.' Anything called 'body,' with a nature that is impermanent, suffering, not-self — reflecting so, he thought it should never again belong to him.

Because, relying on the mental state held in the fourth jhana, wisdom arose abundantly, exceedingly sharp, mental strength exceedingly high — in a mere instant he attained the fruit of Arahantship, becoming a Noble One in the Buddha's Dispensation.

This is an example concerning cultivation of the kasinas. Every kasina has the same underlying nature, differing only in color and hue, to be pursued according to each individual's inclination. In particular, the four kasinas — red, yellow, blue-green, white — are kasinas for destroying anger, ill-will, and malicious intent. Why this should be so, even I do not fully understand; the manner of gazing is the same — why should it destroy anger, destroy ill-will? This is a question one must not ask; if asked it cannot be answered, and to try to answer would only raise further questions — better not to ask. It is not necessary; just remember: of the ten kasinas, six are neutral kasinas usable by any temperament — namely the earth, fire, wind, water, space, and light [white] kasinas — these six are neutral subjects. Let me say now, there are ten in all, with the four form-jhana [color] kasinas also being neutral subjects — but the form-jhana requires first attaining one of the [six neutral] kasinas before it can be attained. As for the remaining four kasinas — red, yellow, blue-green, white — these are for purifying a mind possessed of anger and ill-will, of vengeful destructive intent. But we need not use all four; any one alone will do — as with the goldsmith's son. And if it truly matches one's temperament, without letting go or abandoning the effort, one can attain path and fruit easily.

Well then, for today let us begin the topic of kasinas here, as the time for speaking has run out. Having listened, remember it well. As we recite 'Buddho' and picture the Buddha, picturing a Buddha image is recollection-of-the-Buddha meditation. If the Buddha image is yellow, like gold, it is the yellow kasina; if green or black, the blue-green kasina; if white, the white kasina. This serves as both, and is also a kasina. Keep trying to fix the mind on the image of the Buddha in the heart — seeing it floating in front of you, or anywhere at all, anything works. Doing this, before long the mental state will easily become jhana. And while holding the image of the Buddha, the mind should also keep track of the in-and-out breath. This breathing in and out, we ought not...

But before taking up the image of the Buddha, we may first recall the in-and-out breath, settling the mind comfortably, and only then take up the Buddha image, until the mind becomes steady — whether sitting, walking, standing, going anywhere at all, that image appears fixed to the eye and mind at all times. In this way it is said we have attained jhana within the kasina. The details of jhana within the kasina will be spoken of another day. Today, for all of you who have listened, if pleased with it, go and practice it; or if today's topic does not please you but you were pleased with material from previous days already studied, then take up whichever part and sit to ponder, contemplate, or recite upon it. If you contemplate together with reciting, that too is fine. Whichever day the mind feels inclined to recite, let it recite; some days it does not want to recite, it wants to contemplate — then let it contemplate. Do not force it against its will. Using this flexible method, before long the mind will become jhana, and you will attain path and fruit.

Now then, from this point on, may all you Buddhist faithful set the body upright, steady the mind firmly, keep aware of the in-and-out breath, use the recitation and contemplate according to your own inclination, until you hear the signal announcing the time is up.

* * *

40. The Ten Kasinas as Insight Practice

On this occasion, all you Buddhist disciples have together taken the precepts and taken up the meditation subject. Today we shall speak of the kasinas in the manner of insight-knowledge (vipassana-ñana). For cultivating the kasinas on the side of calm (samatha) meditation, we need the mental sign (nimitta) as essential. Once the mind has grasped the sign of any of the ten kasinas and becomes steady — if that sign remains the original form, with the original appearance, we call it the acquired sign, because it is the acquired sign in its early stage; and when the sign changes from its original color into white, into sparkling brilliance, it is classed as the acquired sign in its later stage. If the color becomes an intensely thick brilliance and the mind becomes steady, that is jhana. This is the kasina in its preliminary stage.

As for the samatha side, there is a way to cultivate the kasina so it becomes insight meditation — cultivating the Dhamma practice without needing to run elsewhere, because, as we have studied, wherever the Lord of Wisdom, the Fully Self-Enlightened Teacher, taught samatha, he used insight-knowledge right there. For example in the Mahasatipatthana Sutta, in every section, every part, the Buddha taught the beginning as samatha practice and concluded it as insight practice. Now, as for bringing the kasina into insight-knowledge, let me tell the story of the Conqueror of Mara, the Great Teacher, teaching the goldsmith's son, so all doubt is removed — otherwise you might think I am simply making this up myself: 'This is the kasina, a samatha practice — how can it be taught as insight practice? This distorts the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha's own words.' In truth it is not so; the Buddha taught it directly: every kasina uses the same sign and the same mental object with regard to insight-knowledge. Let me give an example. In the time when the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord was still living, the goldsmith's son had gone forth to ordain under Venerable Sariputta, chief disciple of the Great Teacher. He was young, handsome, wealthy. Sariputta thought he must be much given to sensual pleasure, of lustful temperament, and so gave him a subject suited to lustful temperament — the meditation on foulness and mindfulness of the body. Since what Sariputta gave did not suit his true inclination, after a whole rains-retreat had passed, the goldsmith's son had gained nothing. When the retreat ended, Sariputta took him to see the Blessed Lord of Light. The Buddha taught him anew, telling Sariputta to go back, and then taught the young man to contemplate a new kasina, this time the blood kasina — that is, the red kasina — by conjuring a golden lotus into...

...a red color, one blossom, and then had him go out to sit at the sand mound in front of the shrine hall, plant the lotus there, and open his eyes to look at the lotus, reciting 'red, red,' then close his eyes, keeping in mind always: 'red, red.' Opening and closing the eyes, recalling that image — if the image faded, opening the eyes to look again. To tell it briefly: the goldsmith's son, contemplating the red lotus for only a short while, attained the fourth jhana. This fourth jhana means the mind fixed on the object of the red lotus until it became a dazzling brilliance, which he could make higher, or smaller, place in front, or behind, or to the side, entirely as he wished, using the mind to direct it at will.

At that time the Fully Self-Enlightened Lord reflected, by Buddha-knowledge, whether, if he did not help this young man at this stage of insight-knowledge, he would attain the path and fruit. The Lord of Wisdom knew, by the power of his own knowledge, that without help he would attain only mundane jhana; but with help he would attain Arahantship that very day. So the Lord of Wisdom conjured the bright, fresh golden lotus to take on a withered, dried appearance. When the goldsmith's son opened his eyes to look, he saw the lotus and was puzzled: 'Eh — a moment ago it was bright and clear; now the petals have already withered and dried — how strange.' He still did not think anything further, and sat with closed eyes recalling the image of the lotus anew.

At this point the Great Teacher, the Lord of Wisdom, conjured the lotus's petals to dry up completely and fall, scattering as fitting. The young man opened his eyes again and saw the withered lotus with fallen petals, and was surprised; he thought to himself: 'This lotus — this kasina sign — has an abnormal condition. Originally it had a bright, fresh, beautiful, splendid appearance, yet in just a brief instant it turned out to have withered and dried. Now that I open my eyes again, it has fallen apart even more.' He closed his eyes again. This time the Lord of Wisdom conjured the lotus to dry completely, its stamens all scattered, its stem broken, collapsing flat, crumbling into fine fragments. He opened his eyes once more and did not see the lotus standing there at all — he saw it scattered and dispersed across the ground. He then brought the image of the kasina — that lotus — to compare with his own mind, compared it with his own body: that the condition of our body has the same nature as this lotus — that is, the lotus, or the kasina-image, originally had a bright, radiant nature, then collapsed and disintegrated; and now had decayed moment by moment, in the end collapsing entirely, scattered upon the earth. But the condition of our own body has that very same nature — that is, when there is arising...

...arose in the beginning, gradually flourishing bit by bit, until reaching youth. Then, when youth passed, the body gradually decayed — that is, it deteriorated, like a lotus flower that slowly withers away. Before long, it will fall accordingly in due course. This falling and dropping serves as a comparison to let us know: our body — hair that was once black turns all white, no longer beautiful; eyes that once had long sight become short-sighted; good teeth loosen, wobble, and break; the body that once had strong physical power wastes away. In the end death arrives. Blood and flesh scatter over the earth, just like the lotus flower we see here — that is, scattering and sinking into the ground, losing all form. When you contemplate in this way, you recall the stream of the true Dhamma teaching of the Lord of the Precious Lamp, who spoke at the beginning thus:

'Bhikkhave — O monks, jātipi dukkhā, birth is suffering; jarāpi dukkhā, aging is suffering; maraṇampi dukkhaṃ, death is suffering; sokaparidevadukkhadomanassa, and so on' — which means: sorrow, lamentation, and grief are suffering; separation from what is loved and cherished is suffering. Suffering because of what? Suffering because the body of a person, or of an animal, or any condition whatsoever — once arisen, cannot remain constant. It is impermanent. Such is our life: our body has the same nature as the kasina image we see — originally bright and clear, then it wastes away, its condition impermanent, and in the end it ceases, that is, dies in the end — this is called anatta [non-self]. So why should we sit here infatuated with the body? In the end we too must dissolve, just like the golden lotus. This is what is meant by 'the golden lotus.'

If any of you Buddhist disciples use any kasina image — such as the earth kasina using earth, the fire kasina using fire, the water kasina using water, the wind kasina using wind, the blood kasina using red color, the [blue-black] kasina using green color, the yellow kasina using yellow color, the white kasina using white color, the space kasina using space, or the light kasina using bright light — once we gaze at the kasina image until it becomes fixed in the eye and mind, becoming the object of jhāna as described earlier, and then we release the mind for just a moment, when the mind shifts it appears that this kasina image disappears. Then we draw the kasina image back, settling the mind into jhāna again, and the kasina image arises once more. This arising is seen with the eyes closed, mind you — not seen with the eyes open. It is seen clearly by the power of a concentrated mind. If we let the mind shift even slightly, moving away from concentration, that kasina image disappears. If the mind shifts down only a little, or declines only slightly, it still holds a lower level of jhāna, and the kasina image becomes dim and blurred. If our mind holds a high level of jhāna, the kasina image will be clear and bright. When the mind shifts down a great deal, falling below the first jhāna, the kasina image [continues on next page]...

...will dissolve. Now, when we contemplate the kasina image in this way, this contemplation is classified as tranquility meditation (samatha-bhāvanā).

Now let us consider the kasina image further: this kasina image, we can create it so it arises, but when the time comes that concentration relaxes, it disappears. We then compare this with our own life, that our life and this kasina image share the same nature — once arisen, before long it dissolves according to its own lifespan.

Therefore we go on to consider that the Lord of the Triple World, the Fully Enlightened Buddha, teaches us all to abandon clinging (upādāna) to the five aggregates — that firmly grasping and holding the five aggregates, taking this body to be 'us' or 'ours,' [thinking] 'we exist within the body, the body exists within us' — this the Enlightened Teacher had us abandon. We are to contemplate according to truth that this physical being is not us, is not ours; we do not exist within the body, the body does not exist within us. The body is merely the Four Elements that have temporarily assembled together, like the image or sign (nimitta) of a kasina that appears. When the conditions that sustain it run out, at that moment it dissolves. And while the body persists, it is entirely filled with impermanence, with decline as its normal state. When it is impermanent and our mind clings to it, dwells on it, becomes attached to it, thinking it is 'us' or 'ours,' suffering arises — because we want it to be constant. No matter how much we suffer, burn, struggle, resist, push, or try to hold it back, the body will not remain stable. In the end it dissolves — this is called anattā.

The reason the Fully Enlightened Buddha had us abandon clinging to the five aggregates is not that we should not acknowledge them according to truth, but that we should always be aware that the body has arising at the start, change in the middle, and dissolution in the end. Even while it persists there is only suffering, no happiness to be found. However much we cling to it as 'us' or 'ours,' we meet with arising, meet with suffering, meet with dissolution — that is, anattā of this kind. But the Great Sage had us abandon clinging to the body as 'us' or 'ours' — meaning we no longer desire further birth. What is desired instead is cessation — the cessation of the three defilements, namely: lobha, greed; dosa, anger; moha, delusion.

Greed, dosa - anger, moha - delusion, can only exist because they depend crucially on the body. If our body were to be no more, greed — that is, seeking to acquire wealth and possessions — would no longer apply to us. Anger — at people slandering or speaking ill or saying we are bad or wicked, not going according to our wishes — would not exist. The word anattā — meaning that the body will dissolve — would not even arise if we had no body. We would have no birth at all. Therefore, one contemplates and sees that the teaching of the Blessed One is excellent: that not being reborn as a human depends crucially on something. We must hold further that we should never doubt the teaching of the Fully Enlightened Buddha. Use wisdom to examine the Buddha's teaching from every angle, all of what the Well-Gone One taught — for example, the Buddha said: jātipi dukkhā, birth is suffering; jarāpi dukkhā, aging is suffering; maraṇampi dukkhaṃ, death is suffering. Sit and consider whether this is true or not. If we still see it as untrue, that shows we have not yet reached the Buddha's teaching. If we see that these things are truly suffering, that shows we have reached the teaching of the Fully Enlightened Buddha.

Now, in order to escape this suffering, first of all we must be one of pure precepts. For monks, the 227 precepts must be pure; for novices, the 10 precepts must be pure; for lay people, the 5 precepts must be pure as the first step. This is called cutting off sīlabbataparāmāsa [attachment to rites and rituals]. Our mind then aims single-mindedly at Nibbāna as its object. If any of you Buddhist disciples have your mind at this level, the Great Sage says you are a Sotāpanna or a Sakadāgāmī. But if you attain only this much, do not think it is enough — there is still further birth to come. We must still continue to escape birth.

In the next stage, the Lord of the Triple World advises cutting off sensual lust by means of the meditation on foulness (asubha-kammaṭṭhāna) and mindfulness of the body (kāyagatāsati-kammaṭṭhāna). We then contemplate our own body and the bodies of others by the power of these two forms of tranquility meditation, seeing them as disgusting, naturally filthy — this is tranquility meditation. Then we take hold of that condition further, saying: apart from being disgusting and filthy...

...it is impermanent, one cannot find any permanence in it. No one is truly beautiful — however beautiful, before long it fades. Dukkha — however long we hold onto it, there is only suffering. Anattā — however much people love one another, in the end each dies apart from the other, and it is of no benefit.

It is just the same as the nature of the kasina sign we see as flawed: arising and then ceasing, just so. In the end our mind will loosen its passion and delight in forms, sounds, smells, tastes, and touch.

Next, the Blessed One of Auspicious Well-being taught us to cut off anger and ill-will by the power of cultivating the Four Brahmavihāras. We then reflect that every person wants love, wants to be cherished just the same, does not want anyone to kill or destroy one another, and that any person's life is impermanent — they must die in the natural course of things. So we should not hold grudges or anger. We shall have a mind that forgives all people by the power of mettā (loving-kindness) and karuṇā (compassion), together with vipassanā-ñāṇa — that is, seeing that it is impermanent, suffering, and non-self. What benefit would there be in killing or destroying? The minds of all you Buddhist disciples will then loosen from anger and ill-will, and in the end the mind will be able to cut it off entirely. When you Buddhist disciples have attained goodness to this extent, the Great Sage says you have attained the fruit of Anāgāmī.

Next, recall the path that the Ten-Powered One taught for attaining the higher path and fruit, that is, Arahatta-phala: the Conqueror of Māra advised that you should not become attached to the form-jhānas and formless-jhānas, because both these kinds of jhāna are merely a force to send the mind into vipassanā-ñāṇa. But we do not abandon the form-jhānas and formless-jhānas; rather, having sustained them, we take up vipassanā-ñāṇa as the tool for cutting off defilements. Next we contemplate following the stream of the true Dhamma teaching of the Fully Enlightened Teacher, who taught not to hold the conceit that 'I am better than him,' 'I am worse than him,' 'I am equal to him' — think instead that people and animals alike share the same nature: arising at the beginning, aging in the middle, and dissolving in the end, all alike. Everyone has the same Four Elements: water element, earth element, wind element, fire element. Everyone's body is full of...

...the same dirty filth. He and I share the same nature. Why should we go about boasting 'I am better than him,' 'I am worse than him,' 'I am equal to him'? Our mind will then have happiness, with no disgust toward any person or animal.

Next, gather your resolve as the Blessed One of Auspiciousness advised, keeping the resolve fixed solely on Nibbāna as its object, customarily relying on saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa [knowledge of equanimity toward formations] as one's strength. That is: whatever happens to us, whether pleasing or displeasing, let it be. If the body ages, let it be. If it falls sick and unwell, let it be. Treating the body's ailments and illnesses is considered a means of easing the body's painful feelings — whether it succeeds in easing them or not, let it be. Whenever death reaches us, let it be — consider it a good thing that we no longer have to carry the burden of the five aggregates, since the body is the cause of suffering. When our mind can settle into saying 'let it be,' we reach the happiness the Buddha called saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa — equanimity toward the body and equanimity toward the various feelings that the world brings us. Whether people praise us or slander us, let it be — not taking it to heart in this way, the mind habitually holds this as saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa, which is a very important knowledge.

Next, only one defilement remains at the very end: avijjā (ignorance). But by the time the mind has reached this stage, it has become thoroughly blunted; avijjā will hardly remain — what remains is only a slight residual tendency (anusaya). One might even say nothing remains at all. In cutting off this final stage, we consider that avijjā is the dhamma that is the cause, consisting of two things: chanda and rāga. Chanda is satisfaction in being reborn as a human, a Brahmā, or a deva. Rāga is seeing that the world — the deva-world or the Brahmā-world — is a beautiful, splendid thing. We cut this off, holding that being reborn as a human, as a deva, or as a Brahmā is not a cause for liberation from suffering; it is not adhimokkha-dhamma, the dhamma that liberates. To be born in any of these three realms means eventually dying from being a Brahmā, becoming a deva; from a deva then becoming a Brahmā; when done with being Brahmā, coming to be born as a human — and if unlucky, coming to be born as an animal or even a hell-being instead. We do not want this. We want liberation from the power of defilements through utter eradication (samuccheda-pahāna). We want Nibbāna alone. There is no satisfaction in being human or deva; there is no love for the condition of being Brahmā or deva — not for us.

This, then, all you Buddhist disciples, is why the Fully Enlightened Buddha raised the kasina to prominence — because the Conqueror of Māra saw that if the mind holds jhāna well, the...

...the Precious Lamp Buddha likewise used vipassanā-ñāṇa. In truth, vipassanā-ñāṇa is just like this: when the mind holds jhāna, the mind becomes stable, wisdom then arises; once arisen, one contemplates as described above.

That is all, all you Buddhist faithful — we may use even just a single kasina, any one kind, such as the son of the goldsmith who used the blood-kasina and thereby attained Arahatta-phala. So then, for now, discussion of the kasina from the angle of vipassanā-ñāṇa shall conclude here. Today's talk has run long, and perhaps rambled a bit; if what has been said is hard to follow, I ask your forgiveness, for the aim is to have this kasina material serve as a textbook going forward.

From this point on, I ask everyone to sit with the body upright, steady the mind, and note the in-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.' This is ānāpānasati combined with buddhānussati-kammaṭṭhāna. If you maintain this state of mind throughout the allotted time, it is considered that you have attained very good concentration. But any of you Buddhist disciples may instead contemplate vipassanā-ñāṇa or any other meditation subject as you wish, until you hear the signal announcing that time is up.

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41. Āhāre Paṭikūlasaññā [Perception of the Repulsiveness of Food]

For today, let us continue our study. Last time, I spoke briefly about the ten kasinas, enough for you all to understand. Today I wish to speak about a special meditation subject in particular, namely āhāre paṭikūlasaññā, perception of the repulsiveness of food. The Buddha spoke of this āhāre paṭikūlasaññā for the benefit of those whose temperament is of the wisdom type (buddhi-carita), that is, intelligent people. Whenever our mind is in an intelligent state — 'intelligent' here means being unshaken by the decline of the five aggregates, or by death as the final end — having a clear, unclouded state of mind, being sharp-witted, quick in thought, able to decide correctly and easily: this is called buddhi-carita [wisdom temperament]. It means that at that moment our mind is wandering within the domain of wisdom, that is, the state of being a knower.

As for buddhi-carita or the various temperaments, please consider that everyone has all of them present at all times; it is only a matter of which temperament, which mood, arises in the mind at a given moment. Take, for example, people with moha-carita [deluded temperament] and vitakka-carita [restless-thought temperament], whom we call foolish. In truth, a person's foolishness is not present throughout their whole life; at certain moments they too have intelligence. Whenever our mind falls into foolishness, unable to decide firmly, unable to consider anything through to completion, this is only for a passing moment. At other moments intelligence arises — when intelligence arises, this is called buddhi-carita, the mind wandering in the mood of knowledge. At other moments our mind becomes absorbed in the mood of anger and ill-will — this is called dosa-carita [aggressive temperament]. At other moments, when our mind dwells in a state that loves beauty and adornment, that moment is called rāga-carita [lustful temperament]. At still other times our mood becomes credulous, believing easily without considering reasons — that moment we call saddhā-carita [faithful temperament].

The word 'carita' [temperament] refers to the wandering behavior of the mind; it has six modes altogether. Whenever the mind is clear and one feels one has knowledge, sharp and intelligent thought, reasoning things out according to the Dhamma,

the teaching of the Ten-Powered Fully Enlightened Teacher is then easy to understand, especially when one has clear confidence in what the Blessed One of Auspicious Well-being said:

Jātipi dukkhā — birth is suffering. We see the suffering of birth as already described.

Jarāpi dukkhā — aging is suffering: we see aging as full of difficulty, that is, unable to do anything smoothly as we wish — this is the nature of suffering.

Maraṇampi dukkhaṃ — death is suffering, because before death there is suffering, and heavily so. Sokaparidevadukkhadomanassupāyāsā — sorrow, lamentation, grief, and despair are suffering, or separation from what is loved and cherished is suffering.

The Buddha spoke thus, and at that moment our wisdom arises, contemplating the Buddha's teaching and seeing that it is truly suffering — agreeing with the Buddha by the power of contemplative wisdom, not merely by inclining the mind to believe. This is called buddhi-carita. Whenever our mind has this sharpness, this intelligence arising in that moment, all of you should then immediately take up one of the four meditation subjects [āhāra] suited to buddhi-carita: āhāre paṭikūla, maraṇassati-kammaṭṭhāna, the fourfold analysis of the four elements (catudhātuvavatthāna), and upasamānussati — that is, recollecting Nibbāna as the object. Taking up any one of these immediately will secure the goodness of a mind endowed with intelligence.

Today specifically I will speak of āhāre paṭikūlasaññā, which we mean for the intelligent person to see easily. In considering the food we consume, we seek the truth of the food — whether it arises from elements that are clean or filthy. As for monks eating food: if lacking food, one just gets by with whatever rice comes, whatever rice is received, whatever sweets are received — grumbling about it risks certainly falling into hell. If a layperson does so it does not send them to hell, but it is considered to be dwelling in heedlessness. If one is attached to the taste of food, this is reckoned a serious defilement. Whenever the mind is still attached to the taste of food, thinking 'this is delicious,' 'that is delicious,' 'this is not delicious,' 'that is not delicious' — this shows that we are still unable to cross beyond the states of misery (apāya-bhūmi), because the mind is still defiled. Whenever there is food not to our liking, and the mind is displeased, the Buddha declared: whenever the mind is defiled at the moment of death, one goes to the states of misery.

Now, why should one not hold to the taste of food? Because the taste of food has nothing certain about it. The deliciousness of taste is located at the tip of the tongue and the middle of the tongue; once it reaches the root of the tongue, the taste is already gone — there is no sensation of taste there, no nerve for the sense-contact of tasting. Whether a thing has a delicious taste or an unpleasant taste, once we have eaten it, it does not keep us full forever and always — having eaten, before long we grow hungry again. Whatever kind of food, once eaten, we age...

...having eaten, we still die just the same. Why should we go about being infatuated with the taste of food, only clouding our mind? We should consider: whatever kind of food will sustain the body, we may eat — we eat in order to sustain the body so it may continue, because it has not yet died. This is one point regarding food that we ought to be careful about.

Everyone should consider for themselves whether, regarding this matter of food, we are able to let go of it yet — still attached to taste in this way, attached to taste excessively. If it is not available we cannot eat; if it is not available we cannot bear it, and must seek it out because of attachment to that taste. Attachment to the taste of food is a bad thing, making the mind impure; a sorrowful mind is a cause for reaching the states of misery. Turning again to the matter of the food itself — consider: whatever kind of plant or grain food we eat, does it arise from cleanliness or filth? Every kind of animal flesh we eat, does it arise from cleanliness or filth? The Buddha taught this as āhāre paṭikūlasaññā — the word paṭikūla means filthy, dirty precisely; it is filthiness itself.

Sit and consider where each kind of animal is clean at all — full of a fishy stench, full of blood, lymph, and pus, full of feces and urine — showing that the body of every kind of animal that we relish is itself simply the condition of filth. As for plants and grains, before they can grow and flourish enough to become our food, the nutrients they draw up through their stalks — do these come from cleanliness or from filth? We can see that in both these respects, both animals and plant-grain foods alike have filth as their foundation.

When we come to prepare food, trying this method of preparation, trying that method, thinking it makes it good; when preparing we think it is the cleanest — but is it truly clean, as we claim? If it were truly, truly clean, then after eating and being full, we would not need to rinse the mouth, rinse the throat, or wash the hands. Why must we rinse and gargle the mouth? Because it smells fishy, causing disgust at the smell of the food. Originally it already had a foundation of filth; when eaten, that filth appears once more.

When we consume food, the food enters and resides in our body, and we think it is beneficial. But the waste we then excrete, we find deeply disgusting, considering it feces, something utterly filthy. In truth, the very flesh we so carefully chose and chose again to eat, that we...

...consider clean, is why we eat it — we consider it something with a delicious taste, pleasing to us, and that is why we eat it. If the thing were truly, truly good, then when excreted, why do we not go back and eat it again?

We can see clearly that food is founded on filth, and it is certainly filthy. Since that food is filthy, when we eat it, it enters and nourishes the body, becoming blood, lymph, and pus — serving as a means to nourish and sustain our body so that it may be abundant and complete. And we sit and observe that we use filthy things to nourish the body, and whether our body then is clean or whether it is filthy — let us sit and seek the truth together, using wisdom as the tool of contemplation. Given that our body is founded on filth, why then do we become infatuated, deluded about the surface of our own body, and the bodies of others, as though they were something marvelous? For what reason do we hold such a feeling? If not simply out of foolishness, what else could be claimed? Because of the lack of using wisdom to contemplate and seek the truth, we come to have delusion and fantasy about our own body and the bodies of others, thinking them clean, thinking them beautiful and splendid, thinking them lovable, desirable, worth cherishing and protecting. Where does such a feeling come from? If not from foolishness, then where could it come from? Because it goes against the law of what is true.

When we have contemplated āhāre paṭikūlasaññā, we then turn to look at the five aggregates, that is, our body. If our body arises from a foundation of filth, with food as its basis, the Buddha said: sabbe sattā āhāraṭṭhitikā — all beings continue to live because of food. All food is filthy. Before eating, before consuming, before partaking, one should first seek out the truth — one must always contemplate first. A monk is not a layperson; a novice is not a layperson. Monks and novices are persons worthy of veneration. If we make our mind and conduct the same as an ordinary person or layperson, that shows we will certainly go to hell. Especially regarding this, the Buddha emphasized āhāre paṭikūlasaññā a great deal.

He said: in consuming food, if we do not contemplate first, becoming intoxicated with the taste of the food, intoxicated with the smell of the food, intoxicated with the color of the food — if we have this kind of intoxication, he said it would be better to eat a red-hot iron ball. A ball of iron heated red until it blazes — if we ate it, by the time it reaches the mouth the mouth is destroyed, by the time it reaches the throat the throat is destroyed, by the time it reaches the chest the chest is destroyed, by the time it reaches the stomach the stomach is destroyed; it is so hot we die. Once dead, we are done with the heat. But if a monk eats food...

...without having contemplated it as āhāre paṭikūlasaññā, upon dying must go to hell — the heat there lasting an extremely long time. Remember this well. In contemplating āhāre paṭikūlasaññā, what benefits are there?

On the side of tranquility meditation (samatha-bhāvanā), it functions as asubhasaññā, contemplating that food is disgusting, filthy; when it enters the body, the body too is disgusting, filthy, unlovable. In truth we already know this from kāyagatāsati [mindfulness of the body]: that our body is only good as far as the skin, and the skin itself is really not good either — beneath it there is only filth. This skin, if we did not cleanse it, if we did not bathe or wash, if we did not apply cosmetics to cleanse our body, the skin of the body would be equally filthy. Therefore, when we use food as our nourishment, and the food is filthy, our body — and everyone else's body — who then could have a truly clean body? Here we can see clearly that our own body is not clean; it is a body full of filth, full of things to be disgusted by. Once we know that our own body is disgusting and filthy, we then see that the bodies of others are disgusting too, equally filthy — because we mostly do not see our own body, we see others' more, just as with our own face: we do not usually examine it, only looking at other people's faces, whether beautiful or not, fair or dark, plump or withered — while our own face may be even more worn and haggard than theirs, though we never think of it.

This is why the Lord of the Dhamma, knowing that most people are heedless in this way, the Conqueror taught āhāre paṭikūlasaññā and then compared it to the body. And when we see that our body, and the bodies of others, are filthy, sensual lust then subsides; the desire for another's body — wanting to acquire it as though comparing it to one's own life's possessions — then disappears too, replaced by disgust at its filthiness, because we want cleanliness, we do not want filth. Once we see the body as filthy, we then further contemplate the five aggregates with vipassanā-ñāṇa: that our body, besides being filthy, is also unstable, and this is the cause bringing suffering — that is, it confines suffering within it. As for dukkhaṃ: jātipi dukkhā, birth is extremely difficult — before one can be born from the mother, and once born, one meets with heat and cold, the whole body stinging, aching all over — the condition of birth is suffering.

Jarāpi dukkhā — entering into old age likewise comes with a procession of sufferings: ears and eyes become dim and hard to use, the body's strength wanes, vigor is spent, nothing can be done as one wishes. This we have discussed...

...In brief, the voice grows hoarse and barely functions; then comes illness and discomfort, which is likewise the nature of suffering. 'Roga' [disease] means 'that which pierces and stabs.'

Maraṇampi dukkhaṃ — when the time comes to die, the painful feelings grow heavy, crushing one down until, under such heaviness, one dies. Here we can see that the arising of the body has nothing good about it at all; it is entirely filled with the marks of suffering. And since it is suffering, is this body 'us,' or 'ours'? In truth it is neither — it belongs to defilement and craving; having arisen, it then dissolves. Why should we sit here infatuated with the body? Let us instead cut off our restless craving for the body by taking āhāre paṭikūlasaññā as the foundation, and then contemplate that our body's foundation is filth, namely food — so the body too is filthy, filthy to the point that we cannot even find anything not disgusting about it, full of suffering, and in the end it dissolves. Do we still want it? Contemplating in this way, if one's wisdom is truly good, sharp and penetrating wisdom will give rise to nibbidā-ñāṇa, disenchantment with the body arising because it has filth as its foundation.

When nibbidā-ñāṇa, disenchantment, arises, we then advance into saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa — that is, still taking āhāre paṭikūlasaññā as the original foundation, with saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa we sit and reflect: it has already arisen, so let its filthiness be — but we no longer want further filth going forward. For now, we will endure it; we will consent to sustain the body so that it may remain stable, so that painful feelings are kept to a minimum. But at the same time, we purify our mind in order to cut off further birth, to continue escaping birth. Death need not be feared — fearing birth alone is enough. If we are not born at all, how could death come? If we are not born, how could impermanence come? If we are not born, how could suffering come? If we are not born, how could illness and discomfort come to exist? All these things we can prevent by relying crucially on non-birth. In order not to be born, what must we do?

1. Cut off lobha, greed, through giving (dāna). 2. Cut off dosa, anger, through cultivating the four Brahmavihāras. 3. Cut off moha, delusion, by contemplating the truth of this body — that it comes from the Four Elements: the water element, earth element, wind element, and fire element — which do not submit to remaining under our control. That is all there is to it. Since it is not under our control, why should we go on preserving and nurturing it? It brings no benefit.

For today we will speak only this much, because we have already spoken about developing the kammaṭṭhāna in its vipassanā-ñāṇa aspect. Let every monk, every novice, and every layman and laywoman use wisdom to contemplate food as it truly is. Do not be one who is intoxicated by the taste of food, do not be intoxicated by the smell of food, do not be intoxicated by the color and appearance of food. Do not fall into the delusion of dreaming that food is something clean, that food is something excellent — in truth it is nothing good at all; it is full of filth. Even granting that it nourishes the body, our body itself is filthy; our body is base and cannot be relied upon for constancy. Strive to set your resolve firmly: that whatever is called food, we will not be intoxicated by its taste — we will eat only enough to sustain this compounded body, not eat for the sake of beauty and loveliness, not eat for deliciousness, not eat to make the complexion glow. If the heart desires that, we may consider that we have already sunk headfirst into the lower realms (apāya-bhūmi) and cannot rise up — we are not yet free of the lower realms, because this is a very grave fault; the clinging attachment (upādāna) fixated on it is itself a great defilement.

To all the assembly of Buddhist followers, the time allotted for speaking has already run long, and the voice can go no further. From this point on, may everyone hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the breath in and out, use the recitation word and contemplate according to one's own inclination, until the signal is heard marking the end of the time.

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42. The Four-Element Analysis (Catudhātu-vavatthāna)

For today I will speak of samatha-bhāvanā until it is complete. By 'complete' here I mean I will leave out the four formless jhānas, considering them unnecessary. Today I will speak of the four-element analysis, or, simply put, the four elements (dhātu 4). This kammaṭṭhāna topic is one of contemplation, not one of recitation. The word 'recitation' (bhāvanā) means taking hold of some verse or formula and reciting it so that the mind becomes steady, but this particular kammaṭṭhāna topic is a contemplative one — suited for those of buddhi-carita (intellectual temperament). The term buddhi-carita is a knowing mental state, meaning every single person has it. Whenever the mind is clear and open and sees that the world is suffering, that the physical body has the nature of arising at the outset, changing in the middle, and disintegrating in the end; sees it as impermanent (anicca), impossible to find constancy in; as suffering (dukkha), being itself suffering; as not-self (anattā), that it will disintegrate — if our mental state arises this way, seeing that the body amounts to nothing substantial and ends in death — at that moment, our mental state is called buddhi-carita, a mind abiding in wisdom.

Therefore, one kammaṭṭhāna topic within the buddhi-carita category that we have not yet discussed remains: the four-element analysis. In it one is instructed to contemplate that this body of ours is nothing but four elements — the water element, the earth element, the wind element, the fire element — mixed together to form this dwelling-body. Then there is also the space element and the consciousness element that come to inhabit and combine, making six elements altogether, though the true original essence is really only four.

The earth element is that which is hard: the skin, the flesh, the bones, and so on.

The water element is the blood, the lymph, the pus, the saliva, the urine, and so on.

The fire element is the warmth within the body.

The wind element is that which moves back and forth within the body, such as the breath, and so on.

In summary, this body must have these four elements combined, and each element must be of even strength for the body to be complete and at ease. That the body becomes sick and unwell shows that one element or another has become deficient, its balance uneven — like a table with four legs: if one leg is broken or worn down, it shows the table does not stand firm; if it wears down on two legs, it shows it is already leaning. Even a banana-stalk support carries weight unevenly. Our own body is the same.

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...has completeness, ordinary strength and functions conveniently — that is, the elements holding steady evenly together. When one part of the elements becomes more worn down than merely fading, the body must show that deterioration outwardly. In the end each of the four elements must disintegrate.

When the time of death arrives, we say the wind element departs first.

The fire element departs, leaving two elements: water and earth.

When there is only earth and water with no warmth to sustain and support them, the water dissolves the earth, and the earth becomes soggy, bloated and swollen; the skin rots, the flesh rots, decays — though it does not decay silently, it gives off a foul odor — and then gradually disintegrates little by little.

The water element dries up, and the earth element collapses and disintegrates.

Thus our body is composed of the four elements — earth, water, wind, fire. It arises at the outset, then declines, diminishing little by little. We see a child arise, we grow through the elements until reaching youth and young womanhood/manhood, showing the four elements complete and full.

Once age advances, fullness declines as time wears the body down and old age arrives; what is fed in no longer matches what wastes away. What was once full becomes deficient — the flesh and skin: the flesh diminishes, the skin begins to wrinkle, the glow disappears; the disintegration of the earth element becomes clearly visible.

Then finally the earth element disintegrates and can no longer hold; the body can no longer sustain itself — this is death. Sit and contemplate: our body is earth, water, wind, fire elements. Whenever the four elements are no longer in harmony, at that moment it collapses.

Now, why do we contemplate the four elements — for what benefit? We contemplate in order to cut off intoxication with the elements, that is, with the body — so we no longer sit intoxicated in our own body thinking it will hold together, for that does not exist. We seek radiance in the body forever, throughout all time, but that does not exist. We seek lasting strength, lasting agility, but that does not exist either, because the four elements do not hold their strength evenly. They may be in harmony together only for a moment; some day, some year, perhaps many times, some element becomes deficient, worn down, deteriorated, and sickness arises. This shows the true nature of the elements — that it is not good, that it does not hold steady.

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And we further observe that once this element-body has arisen, it does not remain stable; in the end what happens to it? It ultimately collapses and disintegrates. So why should we sit intoxicated in the elements — to what benefit? The four elements do not hold steady; our own elements do not hold steady; the elements of other people likewise do not hold steady. The desire to have a spouse arises simply because we have a deluded mind (moha-citta) — foolishness that fails to consider the truth. Having a spouse creates worry, creates a clinging mental state. In truth we wish to be free of suffering, yet seeking another person's body to pair with our own, hoping to become partners to one another, does not free us from suffering — it increases suffering. We must bear the burden of our own body, and also bear the burden of the other person's body. At first we suffered only for ourselves; once we bring in another person, we also suffer for that person — suffering because being merely a couple is not enough. The foolishness keeps building: wanting children, wanting a daughter, wanting a son, wanting grandchildren — this is the endless manifestation of foolishness, creating worry, creating clinging (upādāna), creating attachment binding us to things that do not hold steady. Hence in suffering there is no end; no conclusion can be found.

The Lord of the Three Worlds, the Supreme Teacher, the Perfectly Self-Awakened Buddha, having attained the consecrated supreme self-awakening — the Lord, the Jewel Lamp — saw the fault of being intoxicated within the four elements, that is, intoxicated with one's own elements, or intoxicated also with the elements of others. One intoxicated only with one's own elements is still relatively fine, called lesser suffering. If also intoxicated with another's elements, this is called heavier suffering. And the more one is intoxicated wanting children, wanting grandchildren, wanting great-grandchildren, the heavier it becomes each time. What already rests on our shoulders as one layer is already heavy; adding another layer makes it heavier again by that much; adding yet another makes it heavier still — something already heavy, yet we go seeking to make it heavier still. The Buddha said: 'bhārā have pañcakkhandhā' — the five aggregates are a heavy burden. Yet merely our own four elements combined, called the five aggregates, are already more than we can bear to feed and sustain. Feeding it all day, it never knows fullness, never knows satisfaction; sustaining it forever, throughout all time, it has no cessation in its wants. However much we nourish the body, it will not fail to deteriorate; however much we protect it, it cannot escape death, cannot escape ruin. This is our own body alone, and the Buddha already said it is exceedingly heavy, already more than we can carry — yet we go on to carry the body of another person as well. Are we being foolish, or wise? It increases suffering — showing that a foolish mental state has arisen.

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To cut off this foolishness, one must release the bodies of other people, and then find a way to release even our own body. Sit and consider: even alone, we are already in trouble — we cannot find the end of suffering. If we also go and carry another set of five aggregates, that is doubly heavy again. Just our own self alone, we cannot even keep our own life safe. Our own body alone, to maintain and keep it standing at this level forever, we already cannot sustain. Originally, when we reached young adulthood, the body was full and complete; then as the years passed, arriving at this age, decline began to appear. The Well-Gone One (Sugata) said that taking on another person's body as a burden is a cause of suffering — so see that we should carry only our own body alone.

When we must carry only our own body alone, sit and observe whether it is heavy or light. It is heavy with every kind of burden: we must find food to feed it — now it wants to eat this, then it wants to eat that, at another time it must eat this other thing; its craving never ends. The burden of feeding alone is already heavy enough, and then there are ornaments and clothes it wants — it wants this, it wants that. Each piece of food, each piece of cloth obtained comes only through suffering and hardship; one must labor hard indeed to get food to add and sustain the body. Even carrying this much, it is still not enough — one moment sick with this, another moment sick with that, sick this way, sick that way, requiring treatment and nursing. The state of sickness is itself suffering; finding money for treatment is extremely painful, extremely wearisome — that too is a manifestation of the body's suffering. Where is anything good in it? And no matter how one maintains it, no matter how one treats it, no matter how one nourishes it, in the end it dies anyway.

Since it must die like this regardless, why go on carrying it further? If we must still be reborn again, we would carry this same form forever. Better to stop carrying it — cast it away entirely. But 'casting it away' does not mean going to cut one's own throat or hang oneself and discard it — it is not like that. It means casting it out of the heart so we need not worry over it so much; consider it merely a temporary dwelling. As long as we still depend on it, we maintain it as a matter of duty only, with the feeling that we are merely fulfilling our duty — we do not love it, we do not worry over it. While we still depend on it, if it deteriorates too much — like a rented house, letting the roof leak, letting the floor rot — in the end we ourselves become the ones who suffer greatly, even though we know the house is old every day; when the roof leaks, as soon as it rains it leaks and the sun shines through, so we find something to cover it temporarily against the heat; when the floor rots, we find whatever materials can be used to patch it and patch it up. Maintain—

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Maintain it, but do not love it. Resolve in mind that whenever the time comes to part from it, we will not be concerned for these five aggregates in the least, and we will no longer want it, because whenever we encounter it again, we will meet with this same endless suffering.

The way to avoid encountering it again is to contemplate sakkāya-diṭṭhi — contemplate that it is not us, it is not ours; we are not in it, it is not in us. The four elements are merely a dwelling we temporarily inhabit. We do not see it as beautiful anywhere, do not see it as good anywhere; it is full of suffering. Regarding elements of this kind, we no longer want them again — always think this way. We do not want it again — always think this way. We no longer want the four elements as a dwelling further. Regarding the birth that comes with the four elements — that is not for us.

And then we must find an indirect way forward: if we are not to be reborn, what should we do?

First, we must cut off greed (lobha) through giving (dāna). This must become a normal habit of mind, not merely thinking 'I will not be reborn, I will not be reborn' — that alone is impossible. We must cut off stinginess (macchariya) and greed; do not let it lodge in the heart; do not be too ambitious, too attached to wealth and possessions — when we die, no one can take it with them. When greed is cut through giving, through generosity, the mind becomes lighter.

We must cut off anger (dosa) by maintaining the four brahmavihāra as a habit. We must cut off clinging — the attachment (upādāna) in the five aggregates — by contemplating and discovering the truth of the body, that it is suffering; then attachment to it ceases.

If we contemplate this way, it is called contemplating both samatha and vipassanā together. Samatha-bhāvanā must always be present, but for samatha to remain steady it must rely on vipassanā-ñāṇa to sustain it. For vipassanā-ñāṇa to remain with our mind forever, it must have samatha as its support. These two cannot be separated. If separated, leaving only one part, we are utterly doomed, because goodness will not hold steady.

In contemplating the four elements, we should see that after contemplating we should also incline toward the meditation on foulness (asubha-kammaṭṭhāna) as well, because besides the four elements not remaining steady as their normal nature, they are also impermanent, undergo change, are suffering, and ultimately disintegrate — and moreover are full of filth and impurity, something disgusting and foul. Thus, looking at one point of the kammaṭṭhāna, one circles down toward the endpoint in order to destroy the mind's attachment. Therefore, developing the kammaṭṭhāna necessarily requires—

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...know all forty kinds of kammaṭṭhāna, not just any single one — one must study them all completely and know how to apply them together. The mind should also be able to cut off attachment (upādāna) to the five aggregates. This concludes this section.

Next, for those who wish to develop the kammaṭṭhāna in order to attain the divine-eye knowledge (dibbacakkhu-ñāṇa), using the recitation formula 'na ma pha tha' — this formula is very important; used for the divine eye it produces exceptional clarity. At the outset, may everyone first use the recitation word and contemplate according to their own inclination. Contemplating within any samatha topic together with vipassanā-ñāṇa is very good, as long as the mind can still be sustained, the mind does not waver or stray — keep contemplating continuously; this constitutes cutting off [defilements]. If we develop kammaṭṭhāna, we must genuinely intend to cut off defilements, not merely go through the motions. If it can be cut, cut it until it is entirely gone. When we see that the contemplating mind is becoming too scattered, take hold of the recitation word and keep the mental state steady. At first, whichever way of reciting used to make the mind steady, recite that way first until the mind becomes utterly at ease. Once the mind is well satisfied and settled, orderly and calm, then take up the word 'na ma pha tha' and recite it instead. But when reciting 'na ma pha tha,' it is not a matter of wanting to see this or that, or wanting brightness to appear. Done that way, it bears no result. Maintain one's own mental state specifically; use only the word 'na ma pha tha' alone — whether it becomes dark or bright, no matter; whatever appears or does not appear, no matter — pay no attention; attend only to maintaining the word 'na ma pha tha' alone. Once the mind is well-steadied in concentration, reaching the level of access concentration (upacāra-samādhi), the mental state becomes radiant. With eyes closed one feels as though sitting in broad daylight — brightness throughout the body. If by chance the mind attains divine-eye knowledge and sees whatever images one wishes, there will be exceptional clarity — able to see clearly even the smallest strand of hair or whisker. The benefit of developing this kammaṭṭhāna is so one may attain the threefold knowledge (vijjā tisso), able to genuinely investigate and discover the truth within the principles of Buddhism.

From here on, may all monks, novices, and lay Buddhist followers, men and women, together hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the breath in and out, use the recitation word and continue contemplating, until the signal is heard marking the end of the time.

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43. The Four Brahmavihāra

For today — truthfully I had thought to conclude samatha-bhāvanā, leaving only the four formless states — but a monk pointed out that the four brahmavihāra were omitted, perhaps through an oversight. Today then I will speak of the four brahmavihāra on the side of samatha-bhāvanā. In truth, these four brahmavihāra are a kammaṭṭhāna that nourishes morality, concentration, and wisdom all together, because with the four brahmavihāra alone, the mental state becomes at ease, with coolness and calm. We see that mettā (loving-kindness) and karuṇā (compassion), these two, are able to protect and complete morality entirely, because every precept of morality can be maintained only by relying on both mettā and karuṇā.

Mettā means love; karuṇā means compassion. If we already have love and compassion, we cannot destroy the life of any being, cannot steal others' belongings, cannot snatch away another's beloved, cannot tell lies, cannot drink intoxicating liquor — and especially regarding the precept against drinking intoxicants: if we have love and compassion for our family, friends, and parents, we cannot bring ourselves to commit wrongdoing through loss of mindfulness and clear awareness.

Thus, of the four brahmavihāra, these two in particular — mettā and karuṇā — create coolness arising in the mind, capable of making morality pure. When morality is pure, concentration becomes firmly established; there is no agitation of mind; when the mind has no restlessness, it becomes concentration (samādhi). There is one point, however: for the side of concentration, using only mettā and karuṇā is not sufficient — one must also have muditā (sympathetic joy) and upekkhā (equanimity) for the mental state to hold concentration firmly.

Muditā is having a gentle, tender mind, cutting envy and jealousy out of the mind, rejoicing when another person attains something good. This envy-jealousy state is an extremely dangerous mental state — seeing someone else do well, one cannot bear it, fearing that person will outshine oneself. But with muditā — cutting away envy and jealousy — it departs from the mind; agitation ceases. Seeing someone else do well, instead of thinking they have outshone us, we instead rejoice in the goodness they rightly deserve, because it depends importantly on their own ability and accumulated merit and perfections (bāramī). This muditā mental state produces goodness: whenever someone does good, we rejoice with them, which helps us improve rather than destroying us and causing our decline. The person who—

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...has attained something good and praiseworthy will come to have love for us, kindness toward us. Instead of scorning us, they will befriend us as good friends, and we too will have happiness.

As for upekkhā (equanimity) on the side of samatha-bhāvanā, it is a state of indifference — indifferent specifically to those mental impressions that come to disturb the mind which are unrelated to the object we desire. For instance, as we note the breath in and out, the mind stops solely on the in-and-out breath, not becoming entangled with any external sensations at all — that is, paying no attention to any lights or colors, and so on. One sees the result that upekkhā, this equanimity in samatha-bhāvanā, is a mental state that makes the mind steady, a mental state that is jhāna.

In summary, the four brahmavihāra are beneficial both for morality and for concentration. May practitioners who wish to maintain jhāna as their normal state take heed: if we can maintain the four brahmavihāra, the mind will be endowed with the four brahmavihāra at all times — a light-hearted state throughout the day; all day feeling love toward people and animals equal to ourselves, not thinking of harming any being, not thinking of destroying any being, because of having love and compassion; the mind then has only coolness, because no mental state arises as an enemy toward anyone. In this way the heart is at ease, morality unbroken, concentration remains steady.

Next, regarding muditā, we then have no envy or jealousy; when another person attains something good, we instead have a kind, pleased mind, rejoicing with the person who has done well, expressing joy together with them. This too brings ease of heart.

If upekkhā comes to govern and hold the mind, not permitting any other mental impression to disturb the mind, not letting the mental state become agitated — upekkhā means the state of indifference. Whenever we take up any kammaṭṭhāna topic to contemplate or recite, we let the mind remain steady in that object. This shows that the mind of whoever can maintain the four brahmavihāra — that person's mind will be one who maintains jhāna at all times. Remember this well.

The reason we cannot succeed in matters of concentration or vipassanā-ñāṇa, beginning from being unable to keep morality pure, shows that we lack the four brahmavihāra. If our mental state remains established in the four brahmavihāra at all times, the matter of jhāna-samāpatti becomes truly a small matter, because jhāna-samāpatti can become established, and morality can become pure, owing to the coolness of mind — there being no agitation of mind. When the mind has coolness, is not restless, not agitated, has no cruelty, does not think with envy or jealousy, harms no one—

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...the heart becomes happy, the mental state becomes wholesome. We will be able to maintain the mind in the forty kammaṭṭhāna topics; whichever one we take up separately, we will maintain it well — this is the mental state of jhāna.

Now let us speak of vipassanā-ñāṇa: the four brahmavihāra nourish vipassanā-ñāṇa, giving it stability too. Having the four brahmavihāra complete and fulfilled makes it easy to become a noble one (ariya). We see that becoming a noble one such as a stream-enterer (sotāpanna) requires maintaining the five precepts purely, and having respect for the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha — what is called taking refuge (saraṇāgamana) fully and completely. A person with the four brahmavihāra, with mettā and karuṇā, these two, shows that not a single precept is broken. Thus, what is called sīlabbata-parāmāsa (clinging to mere rites) does not arise in the mind. If sīlabbata-parāmāsa is destroyed, with pure and complete morality, this constitutes the first point of stream-entry.

As for respect for the Triple Refuge, our maintaining pure morality shows that we have respect for the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. When we undertake: 'Buddhaṃ dhammaṃ saṅghaṃ saraṇaṃ gacchāmi' — 'I go to the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha as my refuge' — when the Sangha grants refuge, that is, the five precepts and the eight precepts, the uposatha precepts as well — especially the five precepts should be practiced as a normal habit, every single day. When we have the four brahmavihāra, morality remains unbroken and can be maintained, and thus we can become a stream-enterer quite easily. The four brahmavihāra are a good thing in this way.

And secondly, besides stream-entry, becoming a non-returner (anāgāmī) is also not difficult, because the four brahmavihāra are the cause that destroys anger and ill-will (vyāpāda). What remains then is only sensual desire (kāmacchanda). Relying on a mental state that maintains jhāna, and contemplating the meditation on foulness (asubha-kammaṭṭhāna) a little further, the mind will attain the state of non-returner.

Speaking of arahantship — if the mind is truly steadfast to this degree already, it is not difficult, because the arahant cuts off the underlying tendencies (anusaya): attachment to form (rūparāga), attachment to formlessness (arūparāga), conceit (māna), restlessness (uddhacca), and ignorance (avijjā). This is not difficult, but it is subtle. In truth, stepping into the state of non-returner already brings happiness, because upon departing this life, whether reborn as a deva or a brahma, one will never come back down to be born as a human again — one steps directly toward Nibbāna without ever turning back.

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Therefore the Perfectly Self-Enlightened Buddha advised all Buddhist followers who wish to attain jhāna-samāpatti and the paths and fruits, that all Buddhist followers should first spread loving-kindness in all directions. As the very first step, before we settle the mind into concentration, we intend to spread loving-kindness and compassionate concern in every direction covering the entire universe, always fixing the mind with the thought that we will be an enemy to no one; we will be a friend to all people and animals; we will help people and animals who are suffering hardship to find happiness according to whatever capacity of strength we can provide. We utter these words and think this way with sincerity, as a normal daily habit; in time this becomes habitual, and our mental state will have no anger, no ill-will, no resentment or intent to harm anyone.

As for the five precepts, the reason they come to be violated is due to reliance on evil, the base corruption of the mind, the cruelty of the mind. When the mind is cruel, we can kill animals, kill people, steal from others, snatch away another's beloved, tell lies. But when the mind is endowed with love and compassion, it cannot do any of these things called evil. If we hold this mental state throughout the day — that we will be a friend to all people and animals, that we will have love and helpfulness so everyone may be happy — at first we too will forget sometimes, we may be careless; but with prolonged practice a state of habituation arises, and it becomes the mind's normal condition. This means we no longer need to actively guard against real anger; thoughts of malice, vengeance, wishing to destroy others simply cease to exist. If we doubt how such habituation can occur, look at the example of the chanting texts we memorize — we recited them almost to the point of forgetting, almost dying of effort, before mastering each verse; and later we came to know many such verses, both the Seven Suttas and the Twelve Suttas — we managed it. We can even recite the Pāṭimokkha. After becoming fluent, for the most part we recite without even having to think — whoever begins a verse, we can continue without needing to think, because the mind's habituation carries the memory automatically. As soon as someone starts with 'Namo,' we can continue through every verse; whoever starts whichever verse, we can continue that verse without needing to recall the written text. This serves as a comparison to show:

Even using the four brahmavihāra as a normal habit — at first we too will forget and be unable to sustain it, but with habituation, the mind that has become the four brahmavihāra arises as a normal condition.

Having love as one's normal state—

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...having compassion as one's normal state, and having a gentle mind that envies no one, rejoicing with others who do well as a normal habit.

As for upekkhā, equanimity on the side of vipassanā-ñāṇa, before long this too becomes normal — that is, equanimity toward conditioned formations (saṅkhāra), called saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa. The body will age, will decline, will fall sick and unwell, there will be separation from what is loved and cherished, or death will come — the mental state remains indifferent. This is upekkhā — indifference. Indifferent about what? Indifferent in the sense of considering it simply the ordinary nature of beings who are born, whether human or animal — having impermanence as their normal condition. When it is impermanent and undergoes change, we no longer suffer, because we hold that this is simply its normal nature. When death truly arrives, we likewise consider it an ordinary matter.

When the mind accepts and acknowledges it as ordinary, no agitation arises; the mind has equanimity, an easeful mental state. On the side of vipassanā-ñāṇa, if one can remain indifferent toward all mental states — greed (lobha), lustful attachment (rāga), anger (dosa), delusion (moha) — all these things entice the mind into states of coolness or of agitation — meaning our mind, if it can remain indifferent to all these states, considers them to have no substance, no essence, no importance. This is called having used the four brahmavihāra, especially equanimity, completely — reaching the stage called saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa, that is, equanimity toward the five aggregates, holding that the five aggregates are not us, are not ours; we are not within the five aggregates, the five aggregates are not within us. With just this much, one sees that the coolness of mind, once it arises fully — especially the vipassanā-ñāṇa that we have developed extensively — does not decline. When one can sustain vipassanā-ñāṇa, that is, saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa, relying essentially on the equanimous mind — then the state of a noble one (ariya) draws near; one may be said to reach the state of a noble one immediately, instantaneously. Why is that? Because we have already released the body — released sakkāya-diṭṭhi, that is, the view that the condition of the body is 'us,' is 'ours.' Holding it to be simply ordinary, the mind is at ease as saṅkhārupekkhā-ñāṇa. Once the five aggregates are thus released, this is called the practice whereby our mind enters the stage of arahantship, the highest noble person in Buddhism.

From here on, the time for speaking has run out. May everyone hold the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the breath in and out, use the recitation word and contemplate according to one's own inclination, until the signal is heard marking the end of the time.

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44. Vipassana-ñana

On this occasion, all you Buddhist devotees have received the precepts and undertaken the practice of kammatthana. The cultivation of kammatthana divides into two parts: one is samatha kammatthana, the other vipassana kammatthana. Samatha kammatthana is a method for calming the mind, that is, trying to keep the mind's strength calm and free from agitation, which is the feeding-ground of evil, namely the five hindrances (nivarana), which are:

1. Being infatuated with forms, sounds, smells, tastes, touch, and so on. 2. Trying to suppress anger and ill-will. 3. Suppressing drowsiness and sleepiness while the mind is maintaining goodness. 4. Suppressing the scattering of the mind — fixing the mind on one particular object and keeping it fixed there specifically. 5. Doubt as to whether the practice of goodness bears fruit or not.

For samatha bhavana, this is its purpose.

As for vipassana bhavana, it investigates the truth of the body — contemplating to discover whether being born is happiness or suffering; whether, once born, the body simply remains fixed, or whether our body changes as is natural, and whether it will remain steady forever, or whether death is certain in the final stage. This kind of truth exists: birth occurs, the body changes in sequence, and in the end it declines, becomes ill and unwell, and finally dies. In truth all of this is perfectly ordinary, yet we forget to think of it — especially old age and death, which most people rarely consider. The Buddha saw that this was forgetting the truth, and so sought a way to remind all Buddhist devotees, men and women, not to forget the truth that truly confronts us and cannot be avoided: that once born, one grows old, becomes ill and unwell, and in the end dies.

This is the cultivation of samatha and vipassana kammatthana together: the Buddha wants us to have a mood calmed from evil, to keep goodness maintained in the mind. When the mind maintains goodness, our mood...

...will become clear and bright, and happiness will arise. At the outset, before the Buddha would teach any of you Buddhist devotees to cultivate any particular kammatthana subject, or to contemplate anything at all, he taught a guiding method of practice as a preliminary, to make the mind happy first. As for whatever we go on to meditate on or contemplate, ordinarily we should try to spread loving-kindness (metta) and compassion (karuna), both of these, throughout the whole universe. The word 'spread metta' here — metta means love, karuna means compassion. This means we try to gather our mind's strength so as not to be an enemy to anyone else, seeking a way of reconciliation, seeking a way to build harmony, love, and compassionate kindness toward one another. Instead of seeing others as enemies, we come to see others as friends, and even when another person declares himself our enemy, we try every way we can to make him see us as his friend. When our mind is not hostile to anyone, the heart is happy, the mood cool and calm. As for declaring oneself an enemy of another — whoever it may be that we want to kill, to beat, to harass, to harm — in truth, the person we intend to harm has not yet suffered, because he has not yet actually been harmed. But as soon as we begin thinking of harming him, we ourselves cannot eat or sleep from the very start, because our mood turns turbid, scheming to do him every kind of harm. So long as we have not yet managed to harm him, worry already arises in us. If we do manage to do him harm, danger may arise for us in turn — this only builds greater worry: fearing he will retaliate, fearing officials will come and arrest us, that we will be jailed and imprisoned, or punished. This shows that a mind intent on harming another has no happiness from the very moment such thinking begins, and even once it has been carried out, happiness still cannot be found.

The Lord Buddha, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, therefore advised all of us to seek happiness by being a friend to all people and animals. Let all of you consider: if we are friends with all other people and all animals, with no one as our enemy, will our happiness increase, or will our suffering increase? Let all Buddhist devotees judge for themselves. As an essential foundation, before we cultivate kammatthana — or if we can manage it every single day, it would be good — let our mind be one endowed with loving-kindness and compassion toward people and animals of every kind, without distinction of caste, seeing every person as a friend; whoever's face we meet, we show a smiling, bright expression as a matter of course.

If we habitually act this way, everyone will see us as a person of good disposition, cool and calm, endowed with loving-kindness and compassion. Being like this, we will have more people who love us than who hate us. When we have many people who love us, we have great ease of mind. Why?

Not having to be wary of enemies is a result we can see in the present. The Buddha's cultivation of kammatthana was not intended to hope for results only in the next life. The teaching of the Fully Self-Enlightened One requires results in the present life; it is not that we can merely claim we will attain such-and-such in the next life, or such-and-such a next birth. That is only a by-product. In truth, the real result the Fully Self-Enlightened One wants is the result in this very life, as what is essential.

Why do we deserve a result in this present life? Cultivating kammatthana must at the very least have the five precepts pure. If the five precepts are not pure, it is hard to find concentration of mind, because the mind still has cruelty and lacks compassion. If we simply keep the five precepts pure, happiness already arises from that alone. Why do the five precepts count as a condition for happiness?

Point 1: Just consider ordinarily — our own body is dear to us, our own life is dear to us; we do not want anyone to harm our body or destroy our life. Once a person thinks this way, what of other people and other animals? Is there anyone anywhere who wants us to harm or injure him? Our being able to refrain from taking life, that is, not breaking the first precept, relies on the mind of metta and karuna together — that is, having love and compassion. Once we have love and compassion, we cannot kill him, cannot do him harm, cannot trick him. If we do not kill him, do not harm him, do not trick him, we gain friendship — other people, instead of being enemies, come to be our friends instead. This gives us ease of mind on one side; we gain many friends, many people who love us.

Point 2: Our own property — we do not want anyone to steal, pilfer, or seize it from us. So who is there who would want us to go and steal or seize their property? There is likewise no one. If we can refrain from this, it becomes another charm by which we become beloved by all people.

Point 3: Regarding [not seizing] another's beloved — we do not want anyone to seize our own beloved. So who is there who would want someone to seize the affection of his beloved? When we are content in this matter, it counts as a charm, one further cause; being someone others can trust in matters of the heart, we too become free from enemies.

Point 4: We can refrain from false speech, speaking only the truth. This point will make us a person of authoritative speech — whatever we say, people believe it. This too is another form of happiness of mind.

Point 5: Liquor and intoxicants destroy the nervous system, destroy mindfulness and clear awareness. Once one has drunk it, one becomes as if another person, lacking mindfulness and clear awareness, forgetting right from wrong, capable of doing whatever is improper at any moment. Transgression against a loved one can arise when we are drunk on liquor. If we abstain from drinking liquor and intoxicants, we are endowed with complete mindfulness and clear awareness, know right from wrong, know how to conduct ourselves in goodness; we do not do evil — this is itself a guard against enemies, guarding against others coming to hate our face; we become beloved by others.

This means that before we cultivate kammatthana, if our mind abides in all five precepts, this is called an important charm, a condition for happiness, because we are not despised by others. Wherever we go, there are people who want to associate with us, we are someone others can trust; whatever we say, people believe it. If our conduct is like this, we will see this ease of mind as one point. If we keep the five precepts fully, the Fully Self-Enlightened One taught us to have complete mindfulness and clear awareness. Cultivating kammatthana is then a matter of guarding carefully against letting evil enter our mind, drawing only goodness into the heart. When our mind and heart are good in this one respect alone, everything becomes good. As the Buddha declared: all dhammas have mind as chief, as supreme; whether one acts or speaks, the heart is what matters — the heart is the commander. If the heart commands well, speech is good and the body acts well; if the heart commands badly, speech is bad and the body acts badly. Therefore, in cultivating the kammatthana of the Conqueror of Mara, gather the strength of goodness, bring goodness specifically to mind; when goodness is kept in mind, when we speak we speak only of good matters, and when we act we act only on matters that are good, substantial, and beneficial.

Therefore the Fully Self-Enlightened One kindly advised all Buddhist devotees to maintain goodness. As for controlling the mind's strength to maintain goodness — the Reverend Jinasih knew well that our mind's mood is restless and unsteady. What can compel our mind to remain fixed specifically on any one thing? Even for a moment it struggles to rush off into some other mood. But even so, it is still good — if we can compel our mind to remain in goodness, in any one particular way...

...specifically for a moment, just two or three minutes, that already counts as having maintained goodness. Maintaining goodness for a stretch of two or three minutes like this, the Reverend Jinasih calls khanika-samadhi (momentary concentration). With just this much momentary concentration, were we to die then, we could become a deva. During the time we exist as a human being, our mood becomes clear and bright, cool and calm, beloved by others, free of enmity and danger toward others. When we are a person free of enmity and danger toward others, others show themselves as friends, and we then have happiness of mind and of body. This is what it means to be able to maintain goodness.

As for fixing the mind in the mood of goodness, the Fully Self-Enlightened One said that restraining the mind from scattering is achieved through anapanasati kammatthana (mindfulness of breathing) — that is, trying to keep aware of the breath coming in and going out. When breathing in, know that one breathes in; when breathing out, know that one breathes out; knowing only this much, that is, not letting the mind reach any other object. Whatever moment we know the in-breath and out-breath without any other mood taking control, that moment is called samadhi-citta (concentrated mind). Samadhi-citta divides into three levels together: khanika-samadhi, maintained for only a brief moment before the mind moves on to another object;

Upacara-samadhi — the mind is full and joyful, not weary or bored in maintaining this state of concentration — this is called upacara-samadhi.

Appana-samadhi is when the mind enters into the state of jhana.

While we are meditating or contemplating, holding the in-breath and out-breath, the ear clearly hears sounds outside, but we are not disturbed by the sound — this is called the first jhana. In the second jhana there is even greater fullness, holding steadier still, greater ease of mind, greater fullness — but as we continue meditating, the meditative sensation gradually just stops, leaving the mind at ease; this is called the second jhana.

The breath grows lighter; if the state rises higher than this, called the third jhana, one feels the breath has become very light, the ear hears outside sounds faintly, almost inaudibly, the body holds steady like a firmly planted post, unwilling to stir its strength — this is called [described further as] the fourth jhana. As for the fourth jhana, one does not feel oneself breathing, though in truth one still breathes, but the mind has greater concentration; it seems as though one no longer breathes, and the ear no longer hears outside sounds. Not receiving contact, or not perceiving contact from outside — even if mosquitoes bite, or sounds are loud, we do not hear them. This we call the fourth jhana. If any practitioner's mind can maintain the fourth jhana as a matter of course, that person shows the most at-ease mood of all.

Throughout the whole day, from the first jhana onward, if we can maintain our mind for one day, one hour, or two hours, once the mind withdraws from the jhanic state, that whole day we will have nothing but happiness, nothing but fullness, with no obstructed mood. This is ease in the present life. When in this present life we can create ease of mind for ourselves, once we die we will have happiness, because at the time of death we do not carry the body with us — we carry the mind. If in this life the mind is at ease, once dead, wherever you go to be reborn, following wherever the mind goes, birth there will bring nothing but ease, and suffering cannot be found. This is the benefit of cultivating kammatthana, in its preliminary stage.

The Reverend Thotsaphon [Tathagata, the Ten-Powered One] advised this method of practice: fix awareness on the breath coming in and going out; when breathing in, think 'Bud'; breathing out, think 'dho'. Use just this much — no need to use more than this. Control the mind's strength so it stays aware; whenever the mind knows we are breathing in and thinks 'Bud', breathing out and thinks 'dho' — however much or little is achieved — while the mind remains this way without thinking of any other mood, we call this samadhi. If the mind strays off to another mood, once aware of it, draw it back again, intending to fix on the breath coming in and out, reciting 'Buddho'. Continue doing this often, ten minutes at a time, twenty minutes, whatever it may be — but in truth, ten or twenty minutes, it will not maintain goodness the entire time; the mood will stray to something else. But if all of you do this every single day, ten minutes a day, or even just four minutes, and maintain it well — after only about a month you will feel that you have great happiness of mind. And especially, if some pressing problem arises, we will be able to decide on it swiftly and correctly. This is a benefit in the present for all Buddhist devotees. To explain this fully to all Buddhist devotees would already exceed the time we have.

From here on, I ask all you Buddhist devotees to try to keep the body upright and the mind firmly established, keeping aware of the breath coming in and going out, using the recitation-word and contemplating as suits your disposition, until you hear the signal marking the end of the time.

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44. Vipassana-ñana

Today I wish to begin at the point of vipassana bhavana in a simple form. But in cultivating kammatthana, may all you Buddhist devotees please not do it as a mere habitual practice. To think that way is to lose far too much. In cultivating kammatthana we must aim for the ultimate destination, that is, Nibbana, as where we are heading. In truth, going to Nibbana is not difficult — except that there is no one who wants to go there, that's all — because going to Nibbana simply means making the mind pure, making both body and speech pure. Once the mind is pure, both body and speech become pure as well. Having a pure mind is a cool and calm state in the present life; one will have happiness in this life. If this life has happiness, the next life will also have happiness. Or: we make this present moment happy by not thinking of any unwholesome deed (akusala) whatsoever — anything called unwholesome we refuse even to think of, and refuse to practice.

Akusala means 'not clever'; an unclever person is a foolish person. Kusala means clever. What kind of person is called clever, and what kind called not clever? A person whose mood inclines to think, speak, or act so as to make others burn with distress and suffer — this type of person is not clever, because once he has made another person burn, can he himself have happiness? He too must burn along with him. The Buddha declared: whoever bows will receive a bow in return, whoever pays homage will receive homage in return. If we curse someone, he curses back; if we damn him, he damns back; if we criticize him, he gossips back. All these things we ourselves dislike — yet why do we do them to him, for his sake? It rebounds back upon ourselves — this is the natural way of things. A person who acts like this is not clever; a clever person must forgo the fault of making others burn with distress. We do not act that way; we act for the happiness of others, and happiness then reflects back upon ourselves.

That is: creating happiness for ourselves or for others is not difficult. Whatever we ourselves dislike, we should not do to others. For instance: first, our own property — we do not want anyone to steal or pilfer it, so we should not go and steal or pilfer another's. Second, our own body — we do not want anyone to harm it, do not want anyone to kill us, so we should not do that to others. Third, having life itself is a condition giving rise to suffering, because we refuse to accept and respect the law of reality; yet even so our mind can be at ease. This kind of conduct is...

...done for the sake of Nibbana. It appears not difficult. We act for our own happiness, but please, let us not cause harm to others. If it is like this, then we are happy, and others too are happy.

Stepping forward into Nibbana: the Buddha said one must abandon sakkaya-ditthi (personality-view). Sakkaya-ditthi is holding this body to be 'me', to be 'mine' — that I exist within the body, that the body exists within me. Once this attitude is deceiving oneself, if we together sit and think — let's try sitting and thinking: among people born into this world, is there anyone who does not die? For among all the creatures born in this world, is there any that truly does not die, or that lives on until the sky and earth themselves dissolve, the world persisting forever, and it persists that long too? Once the world dissolves, does it not also die then? There is no such case. This matter needs no explanation — it simply does not exist.

What is it that 'dies' when we say someone dies? The body collapses, the life-breath ends, the four elements no longer cohere with one another. The wind element flees, and the fire element follows after; what remains is only the water element and the earth element. Earth without fire has no warmth to sustain it; only water remains, and water dissolves the earth — the body collapses. Because the body is nothing but the four elements. What was this body built from? It was built from the four elements: the earth element, the water element, the wind element, the fire element.

The water element consists of: urine, blood, lymph, pus, saliva — that which produces moisture for the body; this is called the water element.

The earth element consists of: the hard parts — the skin, the flesh, the bones, and so on.

The wind element consists of: the breath, or the wind moving through the body.

The fire element consists of: the warmth within the body.

The body, being these four elements joined together, becomes a 'house of flesh'; we — that is, the mind — come to dwell within this house of the body. When this body is about to lose its condition, it first arose as a state of birth: the body, whole and complete, is a child with taut, firm skin; being a young man or woman, the flesh glows and is firm. Once one declines from youth, it begins to sag — the flesh diminishes somewhat, the skin loosens — that is, the various conditions that once glowed have all vanished, leaving only withering and dryness. Ears that once heard clearly begin to hear unclearly; eyes that once saw far now see less clearly; ground [teeth?] that were once sound now break; the flesh and skin become wrinkled and crumpled. A body once strong changes into a feeble person; memory becomes muddled. This is the true condition of the body — it has the nature of impermanence. Because it is impermanent, suffering arises, since we want it to stay firm and glowing, yet it will not remain so; whether we like it or not, it slips into the shop...

...to enhance beauty — sagging skin is pulled taut at the face; whatever skin, whatever flesh, it will only stay taut for a while regardless. When they 'improve' it this way, it counts as causing pain; some part or piece of the body must be sacrificed. Losing little or losing much, it is still a loss. This kind of loss is suffering — losing any part is losing part of the bodily organs; one must also spend labor seeking wealth, to trade for beauty and glamour that is not real. This is called refusing to accept the law of truth, always thinking the body will hold steady, the body will glow, the body will be strong and beautiful as a matter of course.

We forget the truth that it cannot remain so. Even when the body's condition has already declined this much, it is still not the end — eventually it collapses and disintegrates, and these things we cannot forbid. We who are young men and women do not want it to age — can we forbid that? We cannot. We are born wanting the completeness of the body, not wanting illness and discomfort — can we forbid that? We are not physicians — we cannot forbid it. Even physicians themselves cannot forbid it: physicians too grow old, physicians too fall ill, physicians too die — no one can forbid it. In the end, when death is about to arrive, can we forbid it or not? We cannot forbid it.

Knowing that we cannot forbid it like this — this is what the Buddha meant when he said the body is not us, is not ours. Is this true or not? Let us think it over: if it truly were us, truly were ours, we ought to be able to forbid it. Yet it refuses to obey us in any way whatsoever — hence it is said the body is not us, is not ours. What benefit is there in being infatuated with it? The word 'we' refers to the mind that resides, taking refuge, within the body. To put it precisely, it should be called 'atisamana-kaya' [the subtle/foreign body] — a body not composed of the four elements, classed as a mental phenomenon (namadhamma). If one attains the divine eye (dibbacakkhu-ñana), one will see this mental phenomenon — the atisamana-kaya, the body that comes to inhabit this fleshly body — clearly and distinctly. The Buddha attained this state; he possessed the divine eye, he knew it; arahants from the threefold knowledge (tevijja) upward know it too. That is why he was not deluded, dwelling attached within the body. How does one avoid being deluded, dwelling attached within the body? One must accept and respect the law of truth, always thinking that this body is not us, is not ours; we do not exist within the body, the body does not exist within us. We refuse to hold that the body is a dwelling place forever and always — that is, having the sense that the body is only a rented house for a time. When it collapses, we must die.

...to be reborn as a hell-being. Freed from being a hell-being, one is reborn as a preta with a demon-body (asurakaya). Freed from being a preta, one becomes a demon-body. Freed from being a demon-body, one becomes an animal. Freed from being an animal, one comes to be born a human — yet cannot attain a fully complete humanity. If the result is only slightly off, one goes to the realms of misery (apaya-bhumi), which is no good. If we do a small amount of good, we are reborn as a deva or a Brahma; once the merit runs out, we must come back to be born again. If reborn as a human, we must suffer in this same way; if reborn in the realms of misery, the suffering is even greater. The Blessed One, endowed with the six-fold glory, therefore taught us to cut off birth altogether — do not be born at all: not as a human, not as an animal, not as a hell-being, a preta, or a demon-body, not as a deva, not as a Brahma. Where then does one go? One goes to Nibbana.

Where is Nibbana? Nibbana lies at the point of purity. As soon as our mind reaches purity, we are said to have reached Nibbana at that very moment. The word 'nibbana' means 'extinguished' — that is, extinguished from evil. When every kind of evil no longer exists in our mind, the moment evil ceases to exist in our heart, we reach Nibbana at that moment. To step into Nibbana, we must take short steps first — grasp and hold firmly to the starting point of the path first. That is becoming a Sotapanna, called a stream-enterer. In truth, the state of Sotapanna is not much at all; it is easy — in truth, even cooking rice to eat is harder than this. If we are a clever person, with a mind inclined to wholesomeness, the qualities of a Sotapanna number three or four together; four qualities combined make two [pairs]:

1. Respect for the Buddha. 2. Respect for the Dhamma. 3. Respect for the Sangha — nothing more to it than that. 4. Keeping the five precepts as a matter of course — that is, absolutely, never willing to break the five precepts.

Being a Sotapanna is easy — easier even than peeling a banana to eat. Why? The Buddha praised such a one as having entered the stream of Nibbana, because he has already cut off the realms of misery. Once one is a Sotapanna, one must never again be reborn as a hell-being, a preta with a demon-body, or an animal; one's cycle of rebirth then only revolves between the heavens/Brahma-world and the human world, nothing more — it has a limited scope. To become a Sotapanna, stated briefly, is done simply: always think that we must die; think that we must grow old, must fall ill, must be spoken ill of or slandered, or be praised and flattered; as for the wealth that...

...one has kept only for oneself, one will inevitably be parted from it. Whether we die or continue to live, some day ahead we and it must be parted from each other. Knowing this, we think that we must certainly die, and as for this death, do not think 'someday I'll die' — one must think 'I could die right now.' Going forward, gather goodness into mind, thinking: this body will collapse — there is nothing to be done about it, it cannot wait; it may collapse right now. Decide swiftly, bring the thought of death to mind as one's meditation object: whenever death comes, let it come — whenever I die, I will cease being reborn at that point. But before ceasing to be reborn, whether it can cease or not, I will grasp the starting point firmly first — that is the Sotapanna.

How is it done? We must resolve to have respect for the virtue of the Buddha, the Dhamma, the Sangha. The Sangha means the ordinary [genuine] monk, not a 'parading monk' — those are not [true] monks; they are pretas and hell-beings come to be reborn; the character of a reborn hell-being is unusable, and it ruins the religion. Monks and ascetics of this sort — if we go and pay them homage, we too become pretas, because their conduct is corrupt; when we accept their corruption, we too become corrupted. In venerating the Sangha, we should keep the noble ones (ariya) foremost in mind; when we raise our hands to a monk, we consider that we are paying homage to the Noble Sangha. If that person is not pure, then let him go to hell on his own account, because he allowed villagers to venerate him — that is his affair, not ours. This 'field of merit' must be chosen with care.

One should do as the householder Anathapindika did in testing the venerable Suddhammathera, because Suddhammathera was jealous and envious of the venerable Moggallana and the venerable Sariputta. When Moggallana and Sariputta came to his dwelling — he lived alone and had villagers who revered him, because there were no other monks in that forest — but in truth he was one versed in the Tipitaka. As soon as Sariputta went in to preach, both people and devas praised him loudly. Why? Because he was an arahant, and preached as one who was pure. Because of this very fact, Suddhammathera became jealous and envious of Moggallana and Sariputta. In the early morning, waking at four o'clock, he would strike the gong hard, fearing the two venerables would wake — he intended, come morning, to refuse to invite them on alms round, to let them starve. He tapped the gong very softly with his fingernail, close by, barely audible. Once done striking the gong, he went and swept the temple grounds, sweeping slowly, fearing the sound would be loud and wake Moggallana and Sariputta. The two venerables, being arahants possessed of analytical insight (patisambhida-ñana), knew his mind, and pretended to lie still asleep. In the morning the venerable Suddhammathera went on alms round alone. The householder Anathapindika prepared food to offer to Moggallana and...

...Sariputta. When he went, he was asked whether the venerables Moggallana and Sariputta had not come. The venerable Suddhammathera answered: 'What kind of monks are these — in the early dawn the gong was struck so loud the ears would nearly split, yet they did not wake, did not hear it, and still slept on. Once the gong was struck and the temple grounds swept so loudly the ears would nearly split, still they did not wake. Even into the late morning they still had not woken.' So he came to receive alms alone. The householder Anathapindika then said that if they had not come, he would bring food to offer to them himself. The venerable Suddhammathera, displeased, went in to seize the food, asking the householder: 'Everything else you have in full, but the broken sweet cake you still don't have — why don't you make that too?' The householder, realizing Suddhammathera was being spiteful, banished him from the house, saying: 'A monk like you, we refuse to revere; we will give you nothing to eat — go find somewhere else.' He then took the offerings to give to Moggallana and Sariputta.

This householder Anathapindika was himself an anagami (non-returner), superior to Suddhammathera. As for lay noble disciples, they venerate the Sangha specifically only among the good monks — not merely because someone has donned the yellow robe and shaved his head do they then venerate him. When we pay respect to the Buddha, there is no need to be selective — the Buddha is certainly worthy. Paying respect to the Dhamma means believing in the Dhamma's teaching: that once born, the body is impermanent (anicca), unstable; suffering (dukkha), unsatisfactory; not-self (anatta), and must ultimately disintegrate — accepting and honoring this, practicing the five precepts fully, because breaking the five precepts destroys the happiness of oneself and of others, creating hardship and misery for others — we will not do this. Respect for the Sangha must be selective, [choosing] the field of merit. The Buddha said: puññakkhettam — the Sangha is the field of merit of the world. If planted in barren upland, the rice all withers; if planted in a flooded lowland, the rice drowns — one must choose a field that is exactly suitable. This is respect for the Sangha in the religion of the Conqueror [the Buddha]: the Buddha allows us to choose to venerate specifically the noble ones. If that person has not attained the state of a noble one, then choose to venerate specifically those who have respect for the Dhamma-Vinaya, who do not contradict the Buddha's teaching — 'contradiction' meaning not practicing accordingly, which is direct contradiction. In venerating the Sangha we must choose whom to venerate; if a monk is not good we must criticize him, if an ascetic is not good we must criticize him — such a one should not even be called a monk at all, whoever he may be — but as for the very name 'Sangha', it refers to a monk who has respect for the Dhamma-Vinaya, up to the level of the noble ones, from Sotapanna up to Arahant. This is called venerating with a sincere heart.

After that, resolve to abandon the five kinds of enmity — that is, refuse to break the five precepts; keep the mind resolved that this is the starting point we must grasp firmly to reach Nibbana. May all you Buddhist devotees hold on to this as...

Normally, being called a Stream-Enterer (Sotapanna) — it isn't hard to see. Today I keep repeating just the Sotapanna level because monks and lay relatives have newly arrived, but in truth the teaching here has already moved on. So the explanation must be limited to just this much.

Always keep in mind that we have a body that is not ours, is not us; we are not in the body, the body is not in us. The body is impermanent, it is suffering, it will eventually disintegrate. The body is not us, not ours; the body is only a rented house for a while. We will not be attached to the body, will not be intoxicated by the body. We will no longer hope for anything from the body. Let it be said there will be no more birth for us. And resolve to cut off greed through giving (dana), cut off anger by cultivating the Four Brahmavihara, cut off delusion by accepting and respecting the law of nature as already explained. Do not waver, whatever happens to the body. And have respect for the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha as refuge — a true refuge, with sincerity of heart. Once you respect them, practice according to their instruction, as in the formula: Buddham Dhammam Sangham saranam gacchami ("I go to the Buddha, the Dhamma, the Sangha as refuge"). And he told us: panatipata veramani ("abstention from killing living beings"), and so on. Thus the Ten-Powered One (the Buddha) said: if you want us to be your refuge, then practice this — do not kill living beings intentionally, do not steal others' belongings, do not commit sexual misconduct, do not tell lies, and do not drink intoxicating liquor. If you all can do these five things, it is said that we truly take the Tathagata as our refuge. When you practice like this, the results you will gain are: sīlena sugatiŋ yanti ("by virtue one goes to a good destination") — you will have happiness ahead; sīlena bhogasampadā ("by virtue, abundance of wealth") — you will have complete possessions, filled with coolness of heart; sīlena nibbutiŋ yanti ("by virtue one attains extinguishment") — precepts will be the cause for you to reach Nibbana easily. See, it isn't hard, is it?

Now I ask all Buddhist disciples together to set the body upright and keep the mind firm. Note the breath going in and out — when breathing in, know that you are breathing in; when breathing out, know that you are breathing out. Then use your recitation word and contemplate as you wish, until you hear the signal marking the end of the time.

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46. The Four Brahmavihara Govern the Precepts

From now on, I ask everyone to set the mind to cultivating concentration (samadhi). The word samadhi means firm intention, steadiness of mind. In ordinary terms, 'firm intention' just means holding onto some object as the chief focus. The cultivation of meditation practice has its importance at the level of jhana-attainment (jhana-samabatti). Now, as for jhana-samabatti — to go so far as to think jhana alone is supremely important is also wrong. Before we can reach that jhana, we must be very careful about precepts (sila). Do not be one who is deficient in precepts. If we are deficient in precepts, it is said we can never find concentration of mind in jhana-samabatti at all. This matters even more with vipassana-nana (insight knowledge), because through the use of wisdom (panna) — one whose mind reaches vipassana-nana is one possessing wisdom that truly knows and truly sees according to reality. This truly knowing, truly seeing according to reality, accepting and respecting the truth — such a person has no broken precepts, no deficiency in precepts; without that, wisdom is impossible. A person deficient in precepts cannot be considered to possess wisdom; a person deficient in precepts will merely claim the mind is 'held steady' [when it is not].

If we keep recalling what the 227 monastic training rules contain, we become careful, unwilling to transgress the precepts, unwilling to let them be deficient, intent on maintaining them well — this is called sīlānussati-kammatthāna (recollection of virtue); the mind itself becomes jhana — jhana by the power of precepts. If our precepts are deficient, it shows our state of mind is too bad. When the mental state is bad and evil, even precepts — which are coarser [more basic] than concentration — we still cannot maintain; where then would we get concentration from? Therefore, in cultivating meditation practice, the first and foremost importance is precepts — they must be upheld.

As for how to uphold precepts, one must have the Four Brahmavihara, especially loving-kindness (metta) — love; compassion (karuna) — pity; sympathetic joy (mudita) — not envying anyone, rejoicing when others do well; and equanimity (upekkha) — a mind that remains neutral according to the law of kamma. Whatever cannot be avoided, do not let the heart become inflamed over it — why? Because we have pure precepts; whatever happens, let it be. Precepts never cause a person distress; having died, one does not suffer hardship. To have precepts, one must have the Four Brahmavihara. Being a person who does not sit idly watching, use them as a means of observation. Whatever anyone else does, we have a mind of loving-kindness, compassion, love, and pity. Whatever is not beyond our capacity to help, we help; whatever is not beyond our capacity to advise, we advise. This is by the power of the Four Brahmavihara. You will observe that a person with the Four Brahmavihara shows no sign of idly looking on, does not regard —

seeing the suffering of others as mere entertainment for ourselves. The mind is constantly inclined to support others so that they may have happiness.

This is a way of observing our own mind — how other people's minds are is their own business. The Buddha said: attana codayattanam — be one who admonishes oneself by oneself. As for using the Mahasatipatthana Sutta, we use the mind as our fixed reference point. Where do we stand? Right now we stand right at the Four Brahmavihara, all day long. Have we ever wanted to go kill someone? Wanted to harm someone? Wanted to steal someone's property or belongings? And so on. In particular, lay people are governed by the Five Precepts or the Eight Precepts; novices are governed by the Ten Precepts; monks are governed by the 227 Precepts. But in truth, these 227 precepts are not yet complete — for monks, there is more in higher conduct (abhisamacara); one must be very careful of one's conduct. If we are unsure whether our precepts are pure or not, take the Navakovada [basic monastic manual] and sit and read it regularly, so as to know what constitutes precepts for a monk. Do not let there be deficiency in precepts. When there is no deficiency in precepts, we will know that we must be one who upholds the Four Brahmavihara. Whether one upholds the Four Brahmavihara completely or not depends on examining one's own mind, in mind-contemplation (cittanupassana). Whatever others say doesn't matter — grasp with the heart and hold on to the Four Brahmavihara and keep the precepts pure, day and night, constantly reflecting on our own precepts. When we reflect like this constantly, the precepts will not go anywhere.

Do not use the phrase 'it doesn't matter.' Those who study only the scriptural side teach it this way: a minor offence (dukkata) doesn't matter, a pacittiya offence doesn't matter, it's a small thing, a nissaggiya offence doesn't matter either, and when it gets heavier, a sanghadisesa offence doesn't matter, and finally even a parajika offence doesn't matter. If small losses are let go, big losses will follow too, because the heart becomes numb and unruly. If we deteriorate like that, we go to the lower realms (apayabhumi) — a waste of having been born human. Right now we have a condition better than beings in hell, better than hungry ghosts (preta), better than asura-beings, better than animals — because we were born human we can live happily: choosing our food, choosing our clothing, choosing where to live — if it's too cold here, we can go hide somewhere else; if it's very cold and we can't stand it, we can stretch out a canvas [for shelter] — we can still do that. Animals cannot do that. None of the beings in all the lower realms can do that. If we are deficient in precepts, where would we go? We would have to go back and be reborn in hell. This is what's called 'going backwards up the canal' — no good at all, because it is extremely difficult to become human again.

Therefore, being born human — especially having encountered the Buddha's teaching and having ordained as a monk as well — this ordination brings great profit. If one ordains badly, one suffers a great loss. We should always keep firmly in mind that we will never retreat backward. To retreat — retreating back means becoming a hungry ghost, an asura being, an animal. Having become human, that is the very worst. When we die, we ought instead to become a deva (celestial being). Once we are a deva, that state of being a deva ends eventually; at the very worst we ought then to become a Brahma. When we are Brahma, that state of Brahma also ends. At that point there is no more room to decline further, no way to go lower — except toward Nibbana. Otherwise, having been born human and encountered Buddhism, we die from being human and go to become Brahma — or if not that, we die from being human and go straight to Nibbana. The opportunity exists for us in every way.

For this kind of opportunity to arise, the first requirement is to be one with pure precepts. Maintaining pure precepts means keeping the precepts in mind as a matter of course, keeping it in mind constantly until it becomes second nature. Regarding precepts, there is then no need to be 'careful' [in a strained sense] — the phrase 'no need to be careful' does not mean it's fine to let them lapse; rather, it means they are so thoroughly controlled that it becomes normal — nothing weighs on the mind, nothing to worry about, because we definitely do not transgress the precepts; the state of mind becomes automatic. Whatever would deviate from the precepts, the mind simply refuses to do. This is called reaching mind-contemplation (cittanupassana) in the Mahasatipatthana Sutta, in the passage: attana codayattanam — we admonish ourselves by ourselves.

Maintaining pure precepts, the mind abiding in precept, is what is called jhana. Wherever the mind might wander, whoever goes above or below, no matter — we control the precepts as a matter of course, holding precepts as the object [of mind], being careful about precepts as a matter of course, until it becomes automatic to the mind; the mind does not waver, does not move away from precepts, and has a state of ease. This is the jhana state. The word jhana means the mind is fixed/sustained. Jhāna is called 'gazing' (pheng), but the word 'gazing' here does not mean staring fixedly — not like that; rather it means having the mind sustained, holding to the precepts as a matter of course — this indeed is jhana. 'Gazing' means fixing the mind specifically on the object of precepts. This recollection of precepts (sīlānussati), spoken of in the ordinary way, cannot become a high jhana; it is used merely as a subject for contemplation, achieving only access concentration (upacara samadhi). If we want to make it into higher jhana-attainment, from the first jhana upward — in a spare moment, set the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the breath in and out; when breathing in, know that you are breathing in; when breathing out, know that you are breathing out; then recite simply 'sīlaŋ' — that is, take hold of the sound of the word 'sīla' as an anchor for the mind, holding the breath in and out. Sīlānussati, or 'sīlaŋ,' whatever — use it —

— call it the word 'precept,' that's fine. The mind grasps the breath in and out, knowing the breath coming in, knowing that it is breathing in, and so on, until our mind enters the level of jhana — that is, no longer annoyed by outside sounds; the ear hears sound but is not disturbed by external sounds. This is the first jhana. One must know how to adapt this, adapt it into the object of meditation.

We have already discussed sīlānussati-kammatthāna (recollection of virtue). Now let us reiterate the matter of jhana-samabatti. Every one of you must be very careful about jhana-samabatti. Why? Because if we lack jhana-samabatti alone, the precepts will not be pure; if the mind wavers, vipassana-nana cannot arise at all. What some teach — that one should not cultivate calm (samatha) but cultivate vipassana-nana directly — completely fails. It fails precisely because they think samatha is unimportant. The Buddha himself did not teach that. Those who take a shortcut method are, in effect, showing off as though better than the Buddha; they cannot be counted together with the Buddha — they must instead be grouped with Devadatta. End of story.

First and foremost, everyone must be careful about jhana-samabatti as the most important thing, maintaining a pure state of mind — this is meditation practice in general, which we have already taught. Now I am only reminding of small details. Be careful at the outset — be careful about the Four Brahmavihara, maintaining them as normal. If we have the Four Brahmavihara, we can sleep with our eyes closed [without worry]. Why? Because the precepts do not lapse, concentration is well established. Then jhana becomes normal, and it becomes easy to move on to vipassana-nana; the state of mind is at ease. As for becoming a person who regresses — where could that regression even go? Would we become a hell-being? They won't have us. Would we become a hungry ghost? They don't want us. Would we become an asura? They chase us away, won't let us be one. Would we become an animal? They won't take us either.

If our Brahmavihara is a bit weak, and we happen to be reborn as a human, we might have a beautiful appearance, everything complete and perfect, nothing lacking — having been reborn human. But in truth, coming back to be born human again is, in a way, unlucky too. If we die as a human and are reborn a human, that's not good enough — it shows we haven't progressed, we're a person just standing still, stopped in place — and standing still is itself a kind of regression. That brings no benefit. So instead, we ought to become a deva.

What is a deva like? A deva is said to have hiri and ottappa (moral shame and moral dread) — the two virtues of a deva. We already have the Four Brahmavihara; the Four Brahmavihara themselves comprise hiri and ottappa, because [with them] one does not do evil. When the Four Brahmavihara are present, evil does not arise; we are careful, our precepts are pure — this shows —

— that we are ashamed of evil, that is, of breaking precepts. And as for the results that evil produces — when precepts are broken, the bad result is that it produces a burning distress in the heart. This shows that we have both hiri and ottappa complete, and we can indeed become a deva.

But I will go further still. If it is only an ordinary worldling deva (puthujjana deva), I say that's still not good enough. Why? Because being an ordinary worldling deva means that when that deva-state ends, one falls back down to being a shabby, second-rate human being again — that's no good either. That is, the goodness we ought to attain should be greater than that. Why? Because the teaching of the Fully Self-Enlightened One is, at this time, complete and perfect. So even at the very worst, if we are to become a deva, we ought to become a deva who is a Noble One (ariya). Why? Because a Noble One has pure precepts, complete refuge in the Triple Gem — that is, respect for the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, not transgressing the instructions of the Fully Self-Enlightened One, complete precepts, and Nibbana as the object of mind. Nothing is difficult for such a person. Therefore, if we are born human and encounter Buddhism, and then upon death become merely an ordinary worldling deva, that is truly regrettable — being a person who cannot attain the good, a person merely standing still — what a pity to have encountered the teaching of the Great Teacher. If we've discussed this much, let us go on and firmly maintain our state of mind, keeping awareness of the breath in and out steady, trying to maintain it for as long as possible, then use the meditation word: breathing in, think 'Bud'; breathing out, think 'dho.' Whatever word anyone recites doesn't matter, because the recitation word is only a means to bind the mind. But be careful to maintain the recitation together with awareness of the breath in and out, keeping it steady. If, as you recite on and on, the mind becomes moist and joyful, and the recitation drops away on its own, and the mind is at ease — then there is no need to hurry back to reciting, because this is the second jhana.

From here on, I ask everyone to set the body upright, keep the mind firm, note the breath in and out, use the meditation word, and contemplate as you wish, until you hear the signal sound marking the end of the time.

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47. Deficiencies of the Practitioner

Fellow Buddhists, today we come again to talk about the Sotapanna (Stream-Enterer). Truthfully, it's rather tiresome — yesterday we had already reached Nibbana; why today do we sneak back to Sotapanna again? What we said yesterday about reaching Nibbana — in truth we were only tiptoeing near it. The real truth is that we have not yet reached Nibbana at all. Let's just fix our final destination — that we intend to go to Nibbana. For today, we sneak back once more to the Sotapanna level. Why? Because I have become unsure whether the disciples of the Lord Buddha who are listening right now have become Sotapanna or not. Studying to become a Sotapanna, if we study only this much, it might feel too easy. But truthfully, based on actual practice, if someone has fairly good wisdom, such people would say: 'How annoying he is, repeating the same thing morning and again! I've already been a Sotapanna for ages!' — while in fact they've only nudged the front edge [barely scratched the surface] and think, 'I'm already a Sotapanna, why keep chewing over it?' Those with good spirits and strong morale would speak this way. If that should happen to be the case, then I must ask forgiveness of all Buddhist disciples who have already attained such paramis (perfections) — thinking I am only helping those disciples of the Fully Self-Enlightened One whose knowledge is not yet up to par; this is not omniscience — even I myself cannot yet save myself. Why? Because right now I am still tottering about, walking back and forth here; this whole body has no goodness to speak of. As for the wealth that all you Buddhist disciples have donated, I tend to spend it on the wrong sort of things. Why is that? Because I believe what the Lord of the World said — 'however much you have, use only that much, and that is still good' — but I believe even more strongly what the Victorious Lord said — that I use too much.

Well then, all you Buddhist disciples — whether a person is born male or female, or even as an animal or a human, all die the same, none survive. Therefore the Blessed One advises us to seek Nibbana as our destination. Having died, going to Nibbana brings comfort, bodily ease and mental ease, free of suffering, with only happiness as the normal state. Now, regarding this matter of Nibbana, fellow disciples — a serious bodily illness that a doctor is to cure must first be understood —

the underlying cause (samutthana). It's not simply a matter of giving medicine for a stomachache when the stomach aches, and medicine for a headache when the head aches. Treating only the symptom in this way is certainly not correct. If the disease happens to be cured, it's only because the doctor happened by luck to hit the right spot — like hitting the groove by accident. In truth, when a bodily symptom appears, the doctor must first examine what the root cause behind its appearance is — or, as we say in the language of monks, what is the 'condition' (paccaya), the factor that causes it to arise. A stomachache may be from intestinal inflammation, stomach inflammation, or a stomachache may be from uterine inflammation.

Reaching the Dhamma of the Victorious Lord, the Supreme Teacher, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, is the same. It is not that simply by existing we will reach the Dhamma. What was said at the beginning was meant so that Buddhist devotees with sufficient paramis, as described, could attain the state of Sotapanna.

Now it happens that some Buddhist disciples' morale has not yet reached what is called having enough parami. The phrase 'parami not yet enough' — parami here means moral strength/willpower. If our willpower is not yet enough, what should we do to make it enough? Now let us examine the root cause that destroys our willpower — what is the reason our willpower is insufficient? Let us go back and look at the teaching of the Supreme Teacher, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, and we will see it clearly. The Lord Buddha declared that people born in this world have six things that create a bad state of mind, namely:

1. Raga-carita (lustful/vain temperament) — loving beauty and refinement

2. Dosa-carita (angry temperament) — prone to anger

3. Moha-carita (deluded temperament) — prone to delusion, thinking that having been born, one will never grow old, never fall ill, never die, and that all one's possessions will never be separated from oneself

4. Vitakka-carita (speculative temperament) — indecisive, unable to make up one's mind 5. Saddha-carita (faithful temperament) — overly credulous 6. Buddhi-carita (intelligent temperament) — being clever

This is what the Auspicious and Blessed One declared as the six weaknesses of the mind. These six causes, fellow disciples, are the root causes that prevent our minds from reaching —

Nibbana, and in particular even the most basic, easiest attainment — the Sotapanna level. We cannot even reach that because we are unable to overcome the mental states of these six evils.

Now that we know the root cause of our chronic mental disease — being attached to love/desire, attached to greed, attached to delusion, unable to decide, overly credulous, or relying on cleverness as the cause — these are the six categories altogether.

Now, what disease is it that has arisen in our own mind — what is the great root cause blocking our goodness so that we cannot reach the state of Sotapanna? We must sit and feel our way through this — what wall is it that blocks and obstructs us, keeping our mind from reaching purity? Let us sit and examine what our mind has taken up with — has it taken up with love of beauty and refinement, or with anger and vindictiveness, or with delusion, or with indecisiveness, or with believing everything without reason, or does one think one's own mind is clever? Being clever the way this teacher describes is not clever enough for us — sit and examine what root cause our mind has fallen into.

These six root causes are, for the most part, all present at once in the minds of Buddhist disciples, in all six forms — but one must see which force is dominant, greater than all the rest combined; whichever force is strongest, that is the one we must destroy first. This is what the Victorious Lord, the Supreme Teacher, has instructed. As we are disciples of the Victorious One, we must believe that he has instructed this way, and we must act accordingly. Then let us look at the branch of knowledge the Great Teacher has taught us — what temperament, what condition appears and arises in the mind, and by what method we should correct it. The method he taught to correct it, he described as follows — let us set it out briefly first, and we will learn the details later.

As for raga-carita (the lustful temperament), it weighs heavily on the mind. The symptom of raga-carita means loving beauty and refinement — everything must be clean, tidy, and orderly; whether or not it's good to go and farm rice fields or plow fields or do hard labor, one still must comb one's hair perfectly smooth, one's clothes must be white and clean, well-ironed; the house or one's belongings must be clean in every way. This is what is called raga-carita. If such a state appears in the mind, the Lord of the Dhamma advises using the eleven kinds of calm-meditation (samatha) subjects to combat and destroy it, because an excessive craving for beauty and refinement prevents us from reaching the state of Sotapanna. In truth, if this alone could be fully overcome, one would not stop at —

Sotapanna, but would reach even Arahantship. But here we are speaking within the scope of Sotapanna, so I will stop the discussion here.

As for raga-carita, the Victorious Lord said to use the eleven kinds of meditation subjects as the cure, as medicine for the disease of lust/vanity. These eleven remedies are: first, kayagatasati-kammatthana (mindfulness of the body), contemplating the bodily parts, seen as the 32 components — this is briefly stated. Then there is asubha-kammatthana (contemplation of foulness), that is, observing the condition of a person's death, from the day right after death until the bones are scattered across the ground. This condition of death appears, and that is its true state; compare it with the condition of our own body — that the beauty we think is so good is not real, is not truly beautiful, does not retain its beauty, and is full of filth.

As for one who habitually has dosa-carita (the angry temperament), this disease is cured with four kinds of medicine — that is, using the Four Brahmavihara: metta (loving-kindness), karuna (compassion), mudita (sympathetic joy), upekkha (equanimity) — and also the four color-kasinas: kasina of red, green, yellow, and white. This must be cured in this way. Whenever anger arises, it must be cured with one of these four remedies, as one prefers.

As for the symptom of indecisiveness and inability to settle one's mind due to delusion — thinking, 'that's mine, this is mine, this too is mine' — the Great Teacher said this is not so: the body is not us, is not ours. The nature of the world is anicca (impermanent), it does not last; dukkha (suffering); anatta (not-self) — it will eventually disintegrate. We become unsure whether what the Omniscient Lord said is really true. In truth it does not seem certain — if it were really going to fall apart, then we're still here; our rice fields and lands are still here, our house is still here, our parents are still alive, our body has not yet died. We are already 80 years old, yet not old at all — still kicking up dust and making a racket! Why then did the Blessed One say it is not us, not ours? We can still command it as we please — we are not sure. When such scattered thoughts arise, the Victorious Lord tells us to correct them with the meditation on mindfulness of breathing — that is, noting the breath in and out.

Next, as for our being overly credulous, or saddha-carita — a mind that believes too easily. Whatever anyone says is good, we accept as entirely good. If someone says white is good, we go along with it; if someone says black is good, we believe that too, thinking it's just as good; if someone says red is good, we accept red as fine too. In sum, this means: pointing at a bird and calling it a bird, we believe it; pointing at wood and calling it wood, we believe it; pointing at a chicken and calling it a fish, we still believe it; pointing at an elephant and calling it a mouse, we still believe it. This is what is called saddha-carita. If the mind is like this —

the Lord of the Dhamma advises using the six recollections (anussati). The word anussati means 'to recollect repeatedly' — for example, recollecting the virtues of the Fully Self-Enlightened One, recollecting the virtues of the Dhamma, recollecting the virtues of the Sangha. Recollecting these virtues means [reflecting on] the way of practice: how did the Buddha practice after he entered Nibbana? As for the Dhamma teaching that the Omniscient Lord declared — we ourselves have respect for the Dhamma; what is that Dhamma like? As for the virtue of the Sangha — the Sangha called supatipanno ('those who have practiced well') and so on, whom the Ten-Powered One praised as having ended suffering and entered Nibbana — how did they practice? We follow their example.

Next comes caganussati-kammatthana (recollection of generosity) — reflecting habitually on the intention behind giving alms/charity. Then silanussati-kammatthana (recollection of virtue) — keeping the mind guarding the precepts as normal, not allowing the precepts to be deficient. Then devatanussati-kammatthana (recollection of the deities) — recalling the good qualities that make a person a deva, namely hiri and ottappa, called the 'divine qualities' (devadhamma). If the disease of over-credulity arises in the mind, the Omniscient Supreme Teacher, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, advises using these six recollections as the medicine to cure the disease.

The last mental disease we call buddhi-carita — that is, cleverness. The Lord of the World called this 'the disease of cleverness' when it arises. This cleverness is itself a kind of disease. If we get lost in our own cleverness, we cannot go anywhere — cannot become a Sotapanna, cannot become an Arahant, cannot go to Nibbana, cannot go to heaven either. Why? Because our cleverness gets stuck attached to the world; at worst, we use cleverness in a wrong, misguided way, applying it to unwholesome ends. The Ten-Powered One said this brings no benefit at all — it is bad, and one must continue to be reborn and die in the cycle of samsara. If cleverness arises in someone's mind, hoping to reach Nibbana in this very life, but that cleverness instead consorts with what is bad — fellow disciples, we cannot fix this ourselves, we cannot find happiness, there will only be suffering. What should we do? Look — this disease that arises in the mind — the Omniscient Supreme Teacher, the Fully Self-Enlightened One, has advised using which remedies? If this disease arises in the mind, the Omniscient Lord has four remedies to cure it:

1. Maranassati-kammatthana — recollecting death as a normal matter 2. Aharepatikulasañña — contemplating food as something unclean

3. Catudhatuvavatthana, the four elements: seeing that this body is composed of the four elements — earth, water, wind, fire 4. Upasamanussati-kammatthana — recollecting Nibbana as the object of mind

These four remedies cure cleverness, or cure the disease of cleverness that arises in the mind. Instead of letting our cleverness be used off the proper path, it should not be so; the Blessed One has us use it correctly — that is, use it as a matter of course. Take this as the remedy to guard against it. If cleverness inclines us to want to cheat villagers, to want to oppress villagers, thinking ourselves cleverer than them — then sit and reflect: when we die, can we carry with us the wealth we gained by cheating? And so on.

Now, this is not yet the section of full explanation. I ask all you meditators (yogavacara) and all Buddhist disciples who hope to reach Nibbana, especially the most basic, easiest attainment — the Sotapanna level — try to reflect on and memorize all six temperaments (carita); memorize as well the medicines that cure these mental diseases called the six caritas. Use this and remember it well — whatever disease arises in the mind, which remedy should we use? Do not forget that these six diseases exist in every Buddhist disciple. The Ten-Powered One advises that we must have a remedy ready in our heart at all times, keeping the medicine prepared. Or if we wish to make a comparison, compare it to the word 'enemy,' that is, an adversary. The enemy has six kinds of weapons, or six armies — each army has its own strategy or tactics, not the same as the others. One comes in a sweet, charming manner — this is raga-carita; one comes in a fierce, domineering manner, using force — this is dosa-carita; one comes disguised as foolish and dull — this is vitakka-carita or moha-carita; one comes appearing to submit as a slave, agreeing with and believing everything said; or one comes in the guise of cleverness. We must have weapons as our remedy, strategy or tactics as our countermeasure — otherwise all these enemies will get the better of us.

Now then, fellow Buddhist disciples — as for practicing meditation to reach the goal, at the outset we will speak of lighter matters. That is, if the minds of all you Buddhist disciples reach a good level, you will be able to overcome defilements, and reach the state of Sotapanna without difficulty. But now it happens that we have become people with a great deal of mental disease; the strength of the disease is heavy, so we necessarily must try to cleanse it. What was discussed earlier also spoke of people having disease, but the disease was mild — if it were a fever, it would be only slight chills and aches; if it were kidney disease or a wasting illness, there would only be some minor aches, and taking a little medicine would cure it. But if this disease is a mental disease with severe symptoms, then there is necessarily —

You Buddhists have great need to find the root cause of the disease, and to strive to destroy the harmful disease bit by bit; the disease will then gradually subside. Whenever the disease is gone, our minds become pure, free from emotions that are unwholesome kamma. Having a mind that thinks rightly means having a mind firmly established in the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. Having a mind resolved to uphold the precepts (sila) means keeping the precepts pure. The heart hopes for liberation (vimutti) - that is, release, namely Nibbana. We resolve to hold Nibbana as our mental object. Bringing our minds to the state of a Noble One, that is, a Stream-Enterer (Sotapanna), will feel easy if we destroy this chronic harmful disease of the heart completely. This is what the Blessed Lord Sugata has advised.

Therefore, may all of you Buddhists who are disciples of the Victorious One, the Fully Enlightened Supreme Teacher, walk the path that the Blessed Supreme Teacher has laid down. But if we do not hold to the Buddha's path, then, all you Buddhists, the harmful disease will never end. In the end it will turn out that we must endlessly wander through birth and death in samsara with no way to escape birth and death. Well then, all you Buddhists, for this session - looking at the time, it has been exactly 30 minutes, so for today let us stop here.

From now on, may all you Buddhists try to hold the body upright and steady the mind firmly, noting the in-and-out breath, keeping the mind at ease, then use a meditation word and contemplate as you wish, until you hear the signal marking the end of the session.

* * *

44. Using Wisdom to Govern Precepts (Sila) and Concentration (Samadhi)

On this occasion all of you have taken the precepts and taken up the meditation subject. From here on is the occasion to cleanse the mind of defilements - that is, we will cleanse the mind of the higher defilements, or the great defilements, so they leave the mind. This time we must look at the defilements that dwell habitually in the heart, called the small defilements, to see whether they are still present in the mind or not. This practice of meditation is not merely a matter of sitting to note the in-and-out breath and chanting alone - that will not do. If we do only this, we truly cannot attain the good result. A person who practises only that way is said to be developing mental concentration to arise. When concentration of mind arises, but the moment carelessness comes, the concentration collapses at that very moment - this is what we call "decline."

For the two things, precepts and concentration, to stand firm and well, they must rely on wisdom as the instrument of reflection. If wisdom has understanding and stability, concentration becomes pure and precepts become pure. The matter of wisdom is important; it must always go hand in hand with both precepts and concentration. If wisdom alone is lacking, we cannot attain the good; in the end we fall back to the woeful states. Look at the example of Devadatta: he stayed with the Fully Self-Enlightened Blessed One until he attained the higher powers and could conjure anything at all, fly through the air - yet Devadatta lacked wisdom. In the end, relying on the precepts, concentration, and higher-power attainments he had established, he grew conceited, thinking himself an extraordinary being, and dared to rebel against the Supreme Teacher of the World, the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha. In the end he fell alive into the Avici hell. We are the same. Examples within the Buddha's Dispensation include both good examples and bad examples. If we wish for goodness, we should also study badness - what anyone has done that the Buddha declared to be bad; we must remember it, remember it in order to refrain from it, not remember it in order to practise it. If there is any good and right practice that the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha declared to be good, we should promote doing precisely that, without any compromise whatsoever with evil - only in this way can one save oneself. Take for example: the monk Lo-Phutthayi and Devadatta - they were of similar character. Lo-Phutthayi did not regard himself as important; he himself was exceedingly bad, but he himself could not see it - instead he turned to look specifically at others' conduct. In the end, others reformed, but Lo-Phutthayi went on being bad and became even worse. Thus it is recorded that this monk Lo-Phutthayi does not appear in the histories as having attained even mundane jhana. Why is this? Because he lacked wisdom - he looked only at others' faces, only at others' conduct, and did not use wisdom to examine his own mind as the important thing.

Therefore the Blessed One thus advised: "Nisammakaranam seyyo" - before acting, before speaking, before thinking, for any deed, he had us consider carefully first, by the power of wisdom, whether this deed is good or bad, whether it is the conduct of a good person or the conduct of a bad person. If, having done it, the wise condemn it, then even if fools praise it however greatly, we cannot call it good. If, having done it, the wise praise it, then no matter how much fools may condemn it, we likewise cannot call it bad. On this point I ask all of you to be very heedful: whatever suffering and trouble arises is because of the lack of wisdom as an instrument of reflection. The creation of badness is often mistaken for goodness - this shows that such a person's heart comes from the woeful realms, having no seed of love for peace, no seed of love for goodness. Doing evil is an expression of defilement; speaking evil is likewise an expression of defilement.

Let us now look at the teaching of the Supreme Teacher of the World, who said: "Attana codayattanam" - always admonish yourself by yourself. We must admonish ourselves a great deal - that is, remind our hearts of what the Lord of the Triple Realm taught:

"Sabbapapassa akaranam" - do not do any evil whatsoever - meaning: whether speaking evil or thinking evil - "kamma" means action - do not do evil, do not speak evil. Only thus can one be called a true disciple of the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha, and only thus can we become good.

"Kusalassupasampada" - he advised us to do only good.

"Sacittapariyodapanam" - purify our own mind to be bright and clear, which shows the mind is good. What is the mark of a good mind? A good mind keeps the precepts pure, controls the emotions so they remain steady, does not allow the mind to become the slave of the five hindrances, and develops insight-knowledge to know things as they truly are, without heedlessness - this is good.

Doing it this way, the Victorious One advised: all of you must not be interested in the conduct of other people; instead always look back at your own mind, asking whether our own mind is bad or not yet. If we still wish to gossip about villagers, wish to condemn villagers, wish to denounce villagers - who are people other than ourselves - then know that we have become excessively bad. Should we die at such a time, there will be no place for us in the human realm, no place in the realm of the Brahmas, the devas, or Nibbana; our dwelling will be the woeful states, especially hell. Why? Because finding fault with others is the conduct of badness, showing a defiled mind, showing that our heart holds much badness within, because we have not released that badness.

The Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha thus advised: whatever anyone else is like, let it be their own affair. Our duty is only toward those with whom we live together - to admonish, to advise; we should speak with goodness, with reason, not to show off that "I am outstanding, I am superior, I am the knowledgeable one" - that shows heavy foolishness, and the heart becomes uneasy. This display of being outstanding - if it is not even true, we become uneasy, it becomes suffering, the mind grows clouded, which is a cause for the woeful states. If we are not concerned with others' conduct, and instead focus on admonishing ourselves, and look at our own mind as a matter of course - is our emotional state bad or good? If the mind's state is good, controlling the mind alone suffices; body and speech need not be separately controlled, because whatever body and speech do is only because they are commanded by the mind. However the mind commands, so the mouth speaks that way, so the body acts that way. When we are to control something, we control the main point, which is the mind. If we can control our emotions in this way - that is, being concerned only with our own conduct - then even when others do evil, hold to the Buddha's maxim: "Akkhataro Tathagata" [the Tathagatas are only pointers-out] - our duty is only to point out according to the discipline, and having pointed it out, do not let the heart become entangled and troubled over it. Do not see people as bad people; try always to see people as good people, so our own heart stays at ease. If someone does evil, consider that it is their own kamma, not our concern. If the mind can think this way, the Fully Self-Enlightened Buddha considers that such a person's goodness has reached even the outer bark of the Buddhist teaching.

Then further, he also advised us to keep the precepts pure: do not break the precepts ourselves, do not incite anyone else to break the precepts, and do not take pleasure when others have broken the precepts. Keep the heart at ease, having power over the hindrances, not allowing evil defilements to come and disturb the mind, that is:

Try to suppress satisfaction in beautiful forms, pleasant sounds, fragrant smells, delicious tastes, desired contact, or any emotion entangled with sensual desire.

Abandon anger and vindictiveness.

As for the five aspects of sensual desire mentioned above, we can suppress them by developing the perception of foulness or mindfulness of the body, reflecting and seeing that our body is dirty, that it decays, that it rots, that it stinks all the time - this way we can suppress satisfaction in the five strands of sensual pleasure.

But anger and vindictiveness arise as a matter of course; for these we use loving-kindness, one of the divine abidings, as the remedy.

If drowsiness and sleepiness arise, open the eyes wide, walk back and forth, rub the eyes with the hand, wash the face with water - these relieve drowsiness.

And then if the mind becomes agitated, use anapanasati (mindfulness of breathing) meditation to control the mind.

If there is doubt about the Buddha's teachings, then use wisdom as the instrument to examine his teaching - that he declared the world to be impermanent, that permanence cannot be found; that it is suffering, the world is filled with suffering hard to bear; that it is not-self, and in the end it all dissolves. Is this true or not? Look at how big we were when newly born, and how big we are now - this shows the changing nature of the body, proof of impermanence. When the five hindrances have been suppressed, then maintain the four divine abidings as a matter of course. If one has this kind of goodness, the Buddha said one has reached the "outer bark" of the religion. Having suppressed the five hindrances, having pure precepts, and having wisdom that keeps up with the true nature of things as is fitting - this condition is the condition of a person who maintains jhana throughout the day.

Now, we have been counting our goodness from the "splinter" level up to the "bark" level - how far have we gotten? "Nisammakaranam seyyo" - always reflect carefully, measuring the heart with every in- and out-breath, asking whether our heart right now is good or bad. It can be observed: whichever group or person has agitation and heat in their mind, that person is full of badness, lacking reflection, lacking self-admonition. This is why we come to practise meditation - we practise to cut off this agitation. How is it done, at the start? At the start, try to keep the precepts pure, to keep them automatic, so that they need no commanding or enforcing - the precepts will maintain themselves as a matter of course, will never break, never lapse. This is called having precepts as "samuccheda" [cut off at the root]. If we can keep them pure permanently, for all time, the matter of becoming a Sotapanna is then a small matter, nothing difficult. When the precepts are pure, then control the mental strength into samadhi. The Buddha taught as many as 40 methods for controlling the mind into samadhi; for today I will only mention the topic as an introduction - whichever method you like, practise that one.

Today I want to recommend, as a beginning, what the ancient teachers taught - even the Blessed One himself declared, in the Mahasatipatthana Sutta, that the very first step is to note the in-and-out breath: breathing in, know that one is breathing in; breathing out, know that one is breathing out; whether the in-breath is long or short, whether the out-breath is long or short. If it is done this way, our mind will be free from agitation - the agitation will all subside and be suppressed. This first step is what the ancient teachers taught this way - remember this well. Noting the in-and-out breath is a refined meditation subject; whoever can maintain the breath can attain jhana, can attain jhana-samapatti. It is not difficult - it is quite easy, if one has the time and the will.

Therefore, in the practice of meditation, one must always look at one's own badness, no matter which group - even an Arahant is the same; indeed an Arahant sees the badness of the body even more heavily, because his own emotions are no longer bad. So we cannot look only at the body; we must also look at the emotions, look at the mind. Right now, does our mind have lust? Does our mind have anger? Does our mind have delusion? One must be a person who truly and honestly knows, not one who takes one's own side. If we reflect in this way constantly, there will be no mistake - wherever the precepts go, with precepts in place, samadhi will hold steady.

If the mind becomes agitated, use anapanasati meditation to bring it under control.

For a mind that loves beauty and adornment, use asubha (foulness) meditation together with kayagatasati (mindfulness of the body) - choose according to preference, but the two must be done together; if only one is done, it will collapse. One must use both together to control the mind - contemplating that the body is made of pieces and segments, not a solid mass; in the end there is only filth. That very quality of being segments and pieces is kayagatasati - seeing it as filthy, messy, disgustingly dirty; excrement and urine are things we should not desire. This is called using clear comprehension to control the mind, to keep it always aware. Why be aware? Because one needs to always know that this condition does not hold steady.

Now, once we can note the in-and-out breath and maintain steadiness by controlling it, the mind loses its agitation, and the five hindrances do not come to disturb it - this is the mind maintaining jhana. But once the mind maintains jhana, if left alone carelessly, it will certainly collapse - jhana does not maintain itself; one must use the four divine abidings to control it constantly. If one has loving-kindness and compassion, these two, the mind becomes cool; jhana does not like heat, jhana likes a cool emotional state, because whenever the emotional state becomes hot, jhana collapses - jhana dissolves easily, jhana is like soft wax, flabby. But if one uses the divine abidings to control it, the mind will become cool constantly, and there will be constant maintenance of jhana - so it is not difficult at all. But those who maintain jhana do not speak carelessly, do not act recklessly; they have mindfulness and clear comprehension in control. Such people are difficult to talk with - not easy to talk with. If they do speak, there must be nothing wrong in it, because even a single wrong word can set back samadhi for a month; if unlucky, even longer. If one speaks something opposed to samadhi, one must be careful - samadhi will not bend for us. This kind of jhana-maintenance - that is, the in-and-out breathing - is a way of suppressing agitation, because a person is abnormally agitated.

If we use a chanting word, chanting is not forbidden - it is not forbidden for anyone. One may use whatever chanting word one likes, without restriction; the results are the same for all. Do not take chanting words and argue over them - [saying] "your chanting...

...is like this, my chanting is like that, mine is better than yours, yours is better than mine - your chanting is like this, my chanting is like that - both fall into hell. Every chanting word has the same effect, because it is merely a device to bind the mind into samadhi.

When the mind is in samadhi, wisdom then arises; it looks at the body and sees: this is merely the four elements, a dwelling-body - now aching here, now hurting there, now hungry, now hot, now thirsty, now needing to pass stool or urine - it is all trouble. The condition of our being born is exceedingly burdensome. The house, the buildings, the wealth we have accumulated - at death none of it can be taken; not even a single strand of hair or a single whisker will follow us, carried along - none of it can be taken. This is using wisdom to reflect in this way.

Being born is not good; it is a condition of suffering. From now on, it is better that we not be born again. If we are not to be born, how do we achieve it? Reflect on the body alone, guard the state of the heart, do not let the heart become arrogant, do not be conceited that one is a good person. A person who cultivates samadhi of mind - no one who does so sees himself as good; he sees the badness of the body in every part and measure. Therefore he has the power to cut off defilements at the root.

Whenever we say "we cannot do this," that shows our own weakness - we are people who are not truly committed. It follows the pattern of Devadatta or Lo-Phutthayi - fond of looking at this person's face, that person's face, blaming this one, blaming that one, while we ourselves are worse than they, yet we do not blame ourselves - sin clings to the heart until we cannot see it. Therefore, in cultivating samadhi, do not be absorbed only in keeping precepts, or in cultivating samadhi by fixing the mind on some particular image or chant alone - that alone is still not enough. One must use wisdom to reflect and help control the mind at all times; only then will there be great result. The state of being a Noble One - that is, Stream-Enterer, Once-Returner, Non-Returner, Arahant - can become our possession easily. At this time there are many Noble Ones in Thailand, but who would sit and tell you that you are a Noble One? It would tire the mouth to say it - such people do not want to receive any reward.

May all you Buddhists diligently cultivate samatha meditation and vipassana meditation; remember goodness up to the level of the "bark" of the Buddhist teaching, and look at your own heart, whether our goodness has reached the "bark" level yet or not. If our goodness has not reached the bark, that shows we have not yet reached the bark of goodness.

From now on, may all you Buddhists try to hold the body upright and steady the mind firmly, note the in-and-out breath well; the breath - when breathing in, know that one is breathing in; when...

...breathing out, know that one is breathing out. If, while breathing in, one does not know what to recite, follow the model of those who were formerly Arahants: breathing in, think "Bud," breathing out, think "dho" [reciting "Buddho"]; keep the heart at ease. Once the heart is sufficiently at ease, relax the mind and go on to contemplate the five aggregates, thus:

The body is not us, is not ours; we are not in the body, the body is not in us. The body is merely the four elements come together, Subject to the state of impermanence, no permanence to be found.

Dukkha - full of suffering; anicca - no permanence to be found. Reflecting at this point is not merely reciting words fluently and then sitting to consider where it is impermanent - dukkha means it is full of suffering; it is not merely sitting and thinking "suffering," but sitting and observing where it is suffering - are we suffering or not?

Anatta - in the end it all collapses; the body dies, but we do not go with it. For instance, today they are cremating two corpses; those people were born like us, could speak and act like us, but their death serves as an example, to be taken as a teacher. Fix the mind, always aware that we too must die. Doing bad, speaking bad, thinking bad - these will no longer exist for us. Those in the monastic community must also be careful about this - being ordained carries great importance. If one speaks carelessly like a layperson, it is as if writing it down, entering it into a ledger, saying "I am willing to fall into Avici hell." Once we ourselves are good, we do not speak ill of anyone else who is bad; we admonish each other with goodwill, speak with pleasant words, relying above all on loving-kindness.

From here on, I ask each and every one of you to hold the body upright, steady the mind firmly, note the in-and-out breath, use a chanting word and reflect as you wish, until you hear the signal marking the end of the session.

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